And there will be guid saut herring,

To relish a cog o' guid ale.

And there will be Sandy the sutor,
And Will wi' the meikle mou,
And there will be Tam the blutter,

With Andrew the tinkler, I trow; And there will be bow-legg'd Robie, With thumbless Katie's gudeman, And there will be blue cheek'd Dobbie, And Laurie, the laird of the land. And there will be sow-libber Patie,

And plookie-fac'd Wat i' the mill; Capper-nos'd Francis and Gibbie,

That wons i' the howe o' the hill; And there will be Alister Sibbie,

Wha in wi' black Bessie did mool, With snivelling Lilie and Tibbie,

The lass that stands aft on the stool.

The dishes were not unworthy of the bridal party

And there will be fadges and brochan,

Wi' routh o' gude gabbocks o' skate;
Powsowdie and drammock and crowdie,
And caller nowt feet on a plate;
And there will be partans and buckies,
And whitings and speldings anew;
With singed sheep heads and a haggis,
And scadlips to sup till ye spew.

And there will be lapper'd milk kebbuck,
And sowens, and carles, and laps;
With swats and well-scraped paunches,
And brandy in stoups and in caps;
And there will be meal-kail and porrage,
Wi' skirk to sup till ye reve,
And roasts to roast on a brander,

Of flewks that were taken alive.

Scrapt haddocks, wilks, dulse, and tangle, And a mill o' guid snishing to prie, When weary wi' eating and drinking, We'll rise up and dance till we die; Then fie let 's a' to the bridal,

For there will be lilting there, For Jock 'll be married to Maggie, The lass wi' the gowden hair.

["James Tytler was the son of a country clergyman in the presbytery of Brechin, and brother to Dr. Tytler, the translator of Callimachus. He was instructed by his father in classical learning and school divinity, and attained an accurate knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages, and an extensive acquaintance with biblical literature and scholastic theology. Having discovered an early predilection for the medical profession, he was put apprentice to a surgeon in Forfar, and afterwards sent to attend the medical classes at Edinburgh. While a medical student, he cultivated experimental chemistry and controversial theology with equal assiduity. Unfortunately his religious opinions, not deemed orthodox, or Calvinistical, connected him with a society of Glassites, and involved him in a marriage with a member of that society, which terminated in a sepa ation. He now settled in Leith, as an apothecary, depending on the patronage of his religious connections; but his separation from the

The authorship of this hearty old Scottish song has been claimed by the noble family of Napier for an ancestor who lived upon the border.

Lord Napier himself, in a letter to Mark Napier, dated Thirlestane, Dec. 15, 1831, says, "Sir William Scott was the author of that well known Scots song, 'Fye, let us a' to the bridal' -a better thing than Horace ever wrote. My authority was my father. Sir William Scott died in 1725.]

John Bay's bonnie Lassie.

JOHN HAY'S "Bonnie Lassie" was daughter of John Hay, Earl or Marquis of Tweeddale, and the late Countess Dowager of Roxburgh. She died at Broomlands, near Kelso, some time between the years 1720 and 1740.

[The heroine of the song had store of charms, if we may put faith in the Muse:

"SHE'S fresh as the spring, and sweet as Aurora, When birds mount and sing, bidding day a good-morrow;

The sward o' the mead, enamelled wi' daisies, Look wither'd and dead when twinn'd of her

society, which happened soon after, with an unsteadiness that was natural to him, disappointed his expectations. When he ceased to be a Glassite he ceased not to be a firm believer in the Christian revelation, and a zealous advocate of genuine Christianity; but he never afterwards held communion with any denomination of Christians. The neglect of his business was the unavoidable consequence of his attention to religious dissensions; and having contracted debts to a considerable amount, he was obliged to remove to Berwick, and afterwards to Newcastle. In both places he was employed in preparing chemical medicines for the druggists; but the liberality of his employers being insufficient to preserve an increasing family from the evils of penury, he returned to Edinburgh, in the year 1772, in extreme poverty, and took refuge from the molestation of his creditors within the precincts of the sanctuary of Holyrood House, where debtors are privileged from arrests. At this period his wife

540

his having projected a balloon: a mortal, who, though he drudges about Edinburgh as a common printer, with leaky shoes, a sky-lighted hat, and knee-buckles as unlike as George-bythe-grace-of-God, and Solomon-the-son-of-David; yet that same unknown drunken mortal is author and compiler of three-fourths of Elliot's pompous Encyclopedia Britannica, which he composed at half-a-guinea a week!

[The following verses will enable the reader to judge of the merits of Balloon Tytler :"THE bonnie brucket lassie,

She's blue beneath the e'en;
She was the fairest lassie

That danc'd on the green:
A lad he lo'ed her dearly,
She did his love return;
But he his vows has broken,

And left her for to mourn.

'My shape,' says she, was handsome,
My face was fair and clean;

deserted him and their five children, the youngest only six months old, and returned to her relations. He solaced himself for the privation of domestic happiness by composing a humorous ballad, entitled The Pleasures of the Abbey,' which was his first attempt in poetry. In a description of its inhabitants, the author himself is introduced in the 16th and 17th stanzas. In the avocation of an author by profession, which he was now compelled to assume, he displayed a versatility of talent, and a facility in writing, unexampled in the transactions of the press. He commenced his literary career by a publication entitled 'Essays on the most important Subjects of natural and revealed Religion,' which issued from the asylum of debtors under the peculiar circumstances of being composed, by himself, at the printing case, from his own conceptions, without a manuscript before him, and wrought off at a press of his own construction, by his own hands. He left this singular work, which was to be completed in two volumes, 8vo., unfinished, and turned aside, to attack the opinions of a new religious sect, called the Bereans, in A Letter to Mr. John Barclay on the Doctrine of Assurance,'-in which he again performed the functions of author, compositor, and pressman. He next sent forth, with such assistance as he could find, a monthly publication, entitled The Gentleman and Lady's Magazine,' which was soon abandoned for The Weekly Review,'-a literary miscellany which, in its turn, was discontinued in a very short time. These publications, unavoidably disfigured with many typographical deformities, made him known to the booksellers; and from them he afterwards found constant employment in compilations, abridgments, translations, and miscellaneous essays. He now ventured to leave the miserable apartments which he had long occupied in the sanctuary for debtors, for more comfortable lodgings, first at Restalrig, and afterwards in the city; and, if his prudence and steadiness had been equal to his talents and industry, he might have earned by his labours a complete maintenance, which never fell to his lot. As he wrote for subsistence, not from the vanity of authorship, he was engaged in many works which were anonymous, and in others which appeared with the names of his employers. He is editor, or author, of the following works: The Weekly Mirror,' a periodical publication which began in 1780; A System of Geography,' in 8vo. ; 'A History of Edinburgh,' 12mo.; A Geographical, Historical, and Commercial Grammar,' 2 vols., 8vo. ; A Review of Dritchken's Theory of Inflammation,' 12mo., with a practical dedication; 'Remarks on Mr. Pinkerton's Introduction to the History of Scotland,' 8vo.; A Poetical Translation of Virgil's Eclogues,' 4to.; A general Index to the Scots Magazine;' 'A System of Chemistry,' written at the expense of a gentleman who was to put his name to it, unpublished. He gave his assistance in preparing the System of Anatomy published by A. Bell, and was an occasional contributor to the Medical Commen

But now I'm bonnie brucket,

And blue beneath the een:
My eyes were bright and sparkling,
Before that they turn'd blue;
But now they're dull with weeping,
And a', my love, for you.

O could I live in darkness,
Or hide me in the sea,
Since my love is unfaithful,
And has forsaken me.
No other love I suffer'd
Within my breast to dwell;
In nought have I offended,
But loving him too well.'

Her lover heard her mourning,
As by he chanc'd to pass;
And press'd unto his bosom
The lovely brucket lass.

'My dear,' said he, 'cease grieving,
Since that your love is true,
My bonny brucket lassie,

I'll faithful prove to you."]

taries,' and other periodical publications of the time. He the principal editor of the 2nd edition of the 'Encyclopedia Britannica,' and finished, with incredible labour, a large pr portion of the more considerable scientific treatises and histo ries, and almost all the minor articles. He had an apartment assigned him in the printing-house, where he performed the offices of compiler and corrector of the press at a salary d sixteen shillings a week! When the third edition was under taken, he was engaged as a stated contributor, upon m liberal terms, and wrote a larger share in the early volumes than is ascribed to him in the general preface. It was he misfortune to be continually drawn aside from the business of his employers by the delight he took in prosecuting expe riments in chemistry, electricity, and mechanics, which onesumed a large portion of his time and money. He conducted for some time, with success, a manufacturing process, of wh he was the inventor; but after he had disclosed his secret to the gentleman at whose expense it was carried on, he was dismissed, without obtaining either a share in the business. or a suitable compensation for his services. He was the in Scotland who adventured in a fire-balloon, constructed upon the plan of Montgolfier. He ascended from Come! Garden, Edinburgh, amidst the acclamations of an imme multitude, and descended at a distance of a quarter of a mix, owing to some unforeseen defect in the machinery. The failure of this adventure deprived him of the public favou and applause, and increased his pecuniary difficulties. He again had recourse to his pen for subsistence, and, amit the drudgery of writing, and the cares which pressed up him daily, he exhilarated his spirits, at intervals, with a tuse on the Irish Bagpipe, which he played with much sweetness. interposing occasionally a song of his own composition, sa with great animation. A solace of this kind was well saitet to the simplicity of his manners, the modesty of his disp sition, and the integrity of his character, such as they were before he suffered his social propensities to violate the rules of sobriety. Forgetting his old friends, he associated with discontented persons, and entered into a deliberate exposi of the abuses of government in A Pamphlet on the Excise. and more systematically in a periodical publication, entit The Historical Register,' which gratified malignity by personal invective and intemperance of language. He was co cerned in the wild irrational plans of the British convention and published A Handbill addressed to the People,' writte in so inflammatory a style as rendered him obnoxious to government. A warrant was issued to apprehend him, and he left his native country and crossed the Atlantic for Ame rica, where he fixed his residence in the town of Salem I the state of Massachusetts, where he established a newspaper in connection with a printer, which he continued t death, which happened in the year 1805, in the 55th year of his age."-CROMEK.]

Sae merry as we Twa ha’e been.

THIS song is beautiful.-The chorus in particular is truly pathetic. I never could learn any thing of its author.

CHORUS.

"SAE merry as we twa ha'e been,

Sae merry as we twa ha'e been; My heart it is like for to break,

When I think on the days we ha'e seen."

[We owe this song to the industry of Herd: the first line of the chorus gave the name to the air two hundred years ago.

"A lass that was laden with care Sat heavily under a thorn ;

I listen'd awhile for to hear,

When thus she began for to mourn:
Whene'er my dear shepherd was there,
The birds did melodiously sing,
And cold nipping winter did wear

A face that resembled the spring.
Our flocks feeding close by his side,
He gently pressing my hand,
I view'd the wide world in its pride,
And laugh'd at the pomp of command.
'My dear,' he would oft to me say,
'What makes you hard-hearted to me?
Oh! why do you thus turn away

From him who is dying for thee?'

But now he is far from my sight,

Perhaps a deceiver may prove,
Which makes me lament day and night,
That ever I granted my love.
At eve, when the rest of the folk
Were merrily seated to spin,

I set myself under an oak,
And heavily sighed for him."]

The Banks of forth.

THIS air is Oswald's.

["Here's anither-it's no a Scots tune, but it passes for ane-Oswald made it himsel, I reckon. He has cheated mony a ane, but he canna cheat Wandering Willie."-SIR WALTER SCOTT.

The song in the Museum is a charming one :— YE sylvan powers that rule the plain,

When sweetly winding Fortha glides, Conduct me to those banks again,

Since there my charming Mary bides.

Those banks that breathe their vernal sweets,
Where ev'ry smiling beauty meets;
Where Mary's charms adorn the plain,
And cheer the heart of ev'ry swain.

Oft in the thick embow'ring groves,
Where birds their music chirp aloud,
Alternately we sung our loves,

And Fortha's fair meanders view'd. The meadows wore a gen'ral smile, Love was our banquet all the while; The lovely prospect charm'd the eye, To where the ocean met the sky.

Once on the grassy bank reclin'd

Where Forth ran by in murmurs deep, It was my happy chance to find

The charming Mary lull'd asleep; My heart then leap'd with inward bliss, I softly stoop'd, and stole a kiss;

She wak'd, she blush'd, and gently blam'd, 'Why, Damon! are you not asham'd?'

Ye sylvan pow'rs, ye rural gods,

To whom we swains our cares impart, Restore me to those blest abodes,

And ease, oh! ease my love-sick heart!

Those happy days again restore,
When Mary and I shall part no more;
When she shall fill these longing arms,

And crown my bliss with all her charms."]

The Bush aboon Traquair.

THIS is another beautiful song of Mr. Crawford's composition. In the neighbourhood of Traquair, tradition still shews the old "Bush ;" which, when I saw it in the year 1787, was composed of eight or nine ragged birches. The Earl of Traquair has planted a clump of trees near by, which he calls "The new Bush."

[Crawford's songs were long and justly popular: "The Bush aboon Traquair" is still a favourite.

"HEAR me, ye nymphs, and every swain,
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Tho' thus I languish and complain,

Alas! she ne'er believes me.
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded never move her;
The bonny bush aboon Traquair,
Was where I first did love her.

That day she smil'd and made me glad,
No maid seem'd ever kinder;

I thought mysel' the luckiest lad,
So sweetly there to find her.

542

I tri'd to sooth my am'rous flame
In words that I thought tender;
If more there pass'd, I'm not to blame,
I meant not to offend her."

Yet now she scornful flees the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet, she shows disdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bush bloom'd fair in May,
Its sweets I'll aye remember;
But now her frowns make it decay;
It fades as in December.

Ye rural pow'rs, who hear my strains,
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains;
Then let her smiles relieve me.
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender;
I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.

"The Bush aboon Traquair," "The Broom o' the Cowden-knowes ;""The Birks of Aberfeldy," and "The Birks of Invermay," continue to supply the curious with snuff-boxes and drinking-cups.]

"In the latter end of the 16th century, the Chisholms were proprietors of the estate of Cromlecks (now possessed by the Drummonds). The eldest son of that family was very much attached to the daughter of Stirling of Ardoch, commonly known by the name of Fair Helen of Ardoch.

"At that time the opportunities of meeting between the sexes were more rare, consequently more sought after than now; and the Scottish ladies, far from priding themselves on extensive literature, were thought sufficiently booklearned if they could make out the Scriptures in their mother tongue. Writing was entirely out of the line of female education. At that period the most of our young men of family sought a fortune, or found a grave in France. Cromleck, when he went abroad to the war, was obliged to leave the management of his correspondence with his mistress to a lay-brother of the monastery of Dumblain, in the immediate neighbourhood of Cromleck, and near Ardoch. This man, unfortunately, was deeply sensible of Helen's charms. He artfully prepossessed her with stories to the disadvantage of Cromleck; and, by misinterpreting or keeping

up the letters and messages intrusted to his care, he entirely irritated both. All connexion was broken off betwixt them: Helen was ineonsolable, and Cromleck has left behind him, in the ballad called Cromlet's Lilt,' a proof of the elegance of his genius, as well as the steadiness of his love.

"When the artful monk thought time had sufficiently softened Helen's sorrow, he proposed himself as a lover: Helen was obdurate; but at last, overcome by the persuasions of her brother, with whom she lived, and who, having a family of thirty-one children, was probably very well pleased to get her off his hands-s submitted rather than consented to the ceremony; but there her compliance ended; and, when forcibly put into bed, she started quite frantic from it, screaming out, that after three gentle raps on the wainscot, at the bed - head, she heard Cromleck's voice, crying, '0 Helen, Helen, mind me!' Cromleck soon after coming home, the treachery of the confident was discovered her marriage annulled-and Helen became Lady Cromleck."

N.B. Marg. Murray, mother to these thirtyone children, was daughter of Murray of Strew. one of the seventeen sons of Tully bardine, and whose youngest son, commonly called the Tuter of Ardoch, died in the year 1715, aged li

years.

[The proper name of this ancient Scottish song is "Cromleck's Lilt."

The following is a complete copy of the affecting ballad, as given in the Museum:

CROMLECK'S LILT.

I.

"SINCE all thy vows, false maid,
Are blown to air
And my poor heart betray'd
To sad despair,

Into some wilderness,
My grief I will express,
And thy hard-heartedness,
O cruel fair!

II.

Have I not graven our loves
On even tree,

In yonder spreading groves,
Tho' false thou be:

Was not a solemn oath
Plighted betwixt us both-
Thou thy faith, I my troth,
Constant to be.

III.

Some gloomy place I'll find,

Some doleful shade, Where neither sun nor wind

E'er entrance had:

If fate shall tear thee from my breast,

How shall I lonely stray?

In dreary dreams the night I'll waste,
In sighs, the silent day.

I ne'er can so much virtue find,
Nor such perfection see;
Then I'll renounce all woman-kind,
My Peggy, after thee.

No new-blown beauty fires my heart,
With Cupid's raving rage;

But thine, which can such sweets impart,
Must all the world engage.

"Twas this that like the morning sun,
Gave joy and life to me;
And when its destin'd day is done,
With Peggy let me die.

Ye pow'rs, that smile on virtuous love,
And in such pleasure share;
You who its faithful flames approve,
With pity view the fair:

Restore my Peggy's wonted charms,
Those charms so dear to me!

Oh! never rob them from these arms!
I'm lost if Peggy die."]

She rose and let me in.†

THE old set of this song, which is still to be found in printed collections, is much prettier than this; but somebody, I believe it was Ramsay, took it into his head to clear it of some seeming indelicacies, and made it at once more chaste and more dull.

[The version in the Museum is as follows:

"THE night her silent sables wore

And gloomy were the skies,
Of glittering stars appear'd no more
Than those in Nelly's eyes.
When to her father's door I came,
Where I had often been,

I begg'd my fair, my lovely dame,
To rise and let me in.

But she, with accents all divine,
Did my fond suit reprove,
And while she chid my rash design,
She but inflam'd my love.

["This is an English song of great merit, and has been Scotified by the Scots themselves."-RITSON.]

[No, no; it was not Ramsay. The song still remains in his Tea-Table Miscellany, and the Orpheus Caledonius, and even in Herd's Collection, in its primitive state of indelicacy. The verses in the Museum were re-touched by an able and masterly hand, who has thus presented us with a song at once chaste and elegant, in which all the energetic force and beauty of the original are preserved, without a single idea to crimson the cheek of modesty, or to cause one pang to the innocent and feeling heart.-STENHOUSE.