The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Iii Part 18

[36] The "gallant Graeme," Lord Lynedoch, on hearing this song at a Glasgow theatre, was so moved by the touching reference of the poet to his achievements, and the circ.u.mstances of his joining the army, that he openly burst into tears.

THE MAID OF ORONSEY.[37]

Oh! stopna, bonnie bird, that strain, Frae hopeless love itsel' it flows; Sweet bird, oh! warble it again, Thou'st touch'd the string o' a' my woes; Oh! lull me with it to repose, I 'll dream of her who 's far away, And fancy, as my eyelids close, Will meet the maid of Oronsey.

Couldst thou but learn frae me my grief, Sweet bird, thou 'dst leave thy native grove, And fly to bring my soul relief, To where my warmest wishes rove; Soft as the cooings of the dove, Thou 'dst sing thy sweetest, saddest lay, And melt to pity and to love The bonnie maid of Oronsey.

Well may I sigh and sairly weep, The song sad recollections bring; Oh! fly across the roaring deep, And to my maiden sweetly sing; 'Twill to her faithless bosom fling Remembrance of a sacred day; But feeble is thy wee bit wing, And far 's the isle of Oronsey.

Then, bonnie bird, wi' mony a tear, I 'll mourn beside this h.o.a.ry thorn, And thou wilt find me sitting here, Ere thou canst hail the dawn o' morn; Then high on airy pinions borne, Thou 'lt chant a sang o' love an' wae, An' soothe me, weeping at the scorn, Of the sweet maid of Oronsey.

And when around my weary head, Soft pillow'd where my fathers lie, Death shall eternal poppies spread, An' close for aye my tearfu' eye; Perch'd on some bonnie branch on high, Thou 'lt sing thy sweetest roundelay, And soothe my "spirit, pa.s.sing by"

To meet the maid of Oronsey.

[37] Printed for the first time.

JESS M'LEAN.[38]

Her eyes were red with weeping, Her lover was no more, Beneath the billows sleeping, Near Ireland's rocky sh.o.r.e; She oft pray'd for her w.i.l.l.y, But it was all in vain, And pale as any lily Grew lovely Jess M'Lean.

She sat beside some willows That overhung the sea, And as she view'd the billows, She moan'd most piteously; The storm in all its rigour Swept the bosom of the main, And shook the sylph-like figure Of lovely Jess M'Lean.

Her auburn hair was waving In ringlets on the gale, And the tempest join'd its raving, To the hapless maiden's wail; Wild was the storm's commotion, Yet careless of the scene, Like the spirit of the ocean Sat lovely Jess M'Lean.

She look'd upon her bosom Where w.i.l.l.y's picture hung, 'Twas like a rosy blossom On a bed of lilies flung; She kiss'd the red cheeks over, And look'd, and kiss'd again; Then told the winds her lover Was true to Jess M'Lean.

But a blast like bursting thunder Bent down each willow tree, Snapp'd the picture clasp asunder, And flung it in the sea; She started from the willows The image to regain, And low beneath the billows Lies lovely Jess M'Lean.

Her bones are changed to coral Of the purest virgin white, Her teeth are finest pearl, And her eyes are diamonds bright; The breeze oft sweeps the willows In a sad and mournful strain, And moaning o'er the billows Sings the dirge of Jess M'Lean.

[38] Printed for the first time.

HOW EERILY, HOW DREARILY.

How eerily, how drearily, how wearily to pine, When my love 's in a foreign land, far frae thae arms o' mine; Three years hae come an' gane, sin' first he said to me, That he wad stay at hame wi' Jean, wi' her to live an' dee; The day comes in wi' sorrow now, the night is wild an' drear, An' every hour that pa.s.ses by I water wi' a tear.

I kiss my bonnie baby, I clasp it to my breast, Ah! aft wi' sic a warm embrace, it's father hath me press'd!

An' whan I gaze upon its face, as it lies on my knee, The crystal draps upon its cheeks will fa' frae ilka ee; Oh! mony a, mony a burning tear upon its cheeks will fa', For oh! its like my bonnie love, and he is far awa'.

Whan the spring time had gane by, an' the rose began to blaw, An' the harebell an' the violet adorn'd ilk bonnie shaw; 'Twas then my love cam courtin' me, and wan my youthfu' heart, An' mony a tear it cost my love ere he could frae me part; But though he 's in a foreign land far, far across the sea, I ken my Jamie's guileless heart is faithfu' unto me.

Ye wastlin win's upon the main blaw wi' a steady breeze, And waft my Jamie hame again across the roaring seas; Oh! whan he clasps me in his arms in a' his manly pride, I 'll ne'er exchange that ae embrace for a' the warl' beside; Then blaw a steady gale, ye win's, waft him across the sea, And bring my Jamie hame again to his wee bairn an' me.

THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA.[39]

AIR--_"Whistle o'er the lave o 't."_

Sing a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim, High glory gie to gallant Graham, Heap laurels on our marshal's fame Wha conquer'd at Vittoria.

Triumphant freedom smiled on Spain, An' raised her stately form again, Whan the British lion shook his mane On the mountains of Vittoria.

Let bl.u.s.tering Suchet crousely crack, Let Joseph rin the coward's track, An' Jourdan wish his baton back He left upon Vittoria.

If e'er they meet their worthy king, Let them dance roun' him in a ring, An' some Scots piper play the spring He blew them at Vittoria.

Gie truth and honour to the Dane, Gie German's monarch heart and brain, But aye in sic a cause as Spain Gie Britain a Vittoria.

The English rose was ne'er sae red, The shamrock waved whare glory led, An' the Scottish thistle rear'd its head In joy upon Vittoria.

Loud was the battle's stormy swell, Whare thousands fought an' many fell, But the Glasgow heroes bore the bell At the battle of Vittoria.

The Paris maids may ban them a', Their lads are maistly wede awa', An' cauld an' pale as wreathes o' snaw They lie upon Vittoria.

Peace to the souls, then, o' the brave, Let all their trophies for them wave, And green be our Cadogan's grave Upon thy fields, Vittoria.

Shout on, my boys, your gla.s.ses drain, And fill a b.u.mper up again, Pledge to the leading star o' Spain, The hero of Vittoria.

[39] At the battle of Vittoria, the 71st, or Glasgow Regiment, bore a distinguished part. On this song, celebrating their achievements, being produced at the Glasgow theatre, it was received with rapturous applause; it was nightly called for during the season.

BLINK OVER THE BURN, SWEET BETTY.

AIR--_"Blink over the burn, sweet Betty."_

Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, Blink over the burn to me; Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee; Though father and mither forbade it, Forbidden I wadna be; Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee.

The cheek o' my love 's like the rose-bud, Blus.h.i.+ng red wi' the mornin' dew, Her hair 's o' the loveliest auburn, Her ee 's o' the bonniest blue; Her lips are like threads o' the scarlet, Disclosing a pearly row; Her high-swelling, love-heaving bosom Is white as the mountain snow.

But it isna her beauty that hauds me, A glitterin' chain winna lang bind; 'Tis her heavenly seraph-like sweetness, An' the graces adornin' her mind; She 's dear to my soul as the sunbeam Is dear to the summer's morn, An' she says, though her father forbade it, She 'll ne'er break the vows she has sworn.

Her father's a canker'd auld carle, He swears he will ne'er gie consent; Such carles should never get daughters, Unless they can mak them content; But she says, though her father forbade it, Forbidden she winna be; Blink over the burn, sweet Betty, An' I 'll gang alang wi' thee.