The Modern Scottish Minstrel - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Like two fair roses on a tree, we flourish'd an' we grew, An' as we grew, sweet love grew too, an' strong 'tween me an' you; How aft ye 'd twine your gentle arms in love about my neck, An' breathe young vows that after-years o' sorrow has na brak!
We 'd raise our lisping voices in auld Coila's melting lays, An' sing that tearfu' tale about Doon's bonnie banks and braes; But thoughtna' we o' banks and braes, except those at our feet, Like yon wee birds we sang our sang, yet ken'd no that 'twas sweet.
Oh! is na this a joyous day, a' Nature's breathing forth, In gladness an' in loveliness owre a' the wide, wide earth?
The linties they are lilting love, on ilka bush an' tree, Oh! may such joy be ever felt, my Bess, by thee and me!
MENIE HAY.
AIR--_"Heigh-ho! for Somebody."_
A wee bird sits upon a spray, And aye it sings o' Menie Hay, The burthen o' its cheery lay Is "Come away, dear Menie Hay!
Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!
Fair I trow, O Menie Hay!
There 's not a bonnie flower in May Shows a bloom wi' Menie Hay."
A light in yonder window 's seen, And wi' it seen is Menie Hay; Wha gazes on the dewy green, Where sits the bird upon the spray?
"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!
Fair I trow, O Menie Hay!
At sic a time, in sic a way, What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?"
"What seek ye there, my daughter dear?
What seek ye there, O Menie Hay?"
"Dear mother, but the stars sae clear Around the bonnie Milky Way."
"Sweet are thou, O Menie Hay!
Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!
Ye something see ye daurna say, Paukie, winsome Menie Hay!"
The window 's shut, the light is gane, And wi' it gane is Menie Hay; But wha is seen upon the green, Kissing sweetly Menie Hay?
"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!
Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!
For ane sae young ye ken the way, And far from blate, O Menie Hay!"
"Gae scour the country, hill and dale; Oh! waes me, where is Menie Hay?
Search ilka nook, in town or vale, For my daughter, Menie Hay."
"Sweet art thou, O Menie Hay!
Slee I trow, O Menie Hay!
I wish you joy, young Johnie Fay, O' your bride, sweet Menie Hay."
I 'VE WANDER'D ON THE SUNNY HILL.
I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, I 've wander'd in the vale, Where sweet wee birds in fondness meet to breathe their am'rous tale; But hills or vales, or sweet wee birds, nae pleasures gae to me-- The light that beam'd its ray on me was Love's sweet glance from thee.
The rising sun, in golden beams, dispels the night's dark gloom-- The morning dew to rose's hue imparts a freshening bloom; But sunbeams ne'er so brightly play'd in dance o'er yon glad sea, Nor roses laved in dew sae sweet as Love's sweet glance from thee.
I love thee as the pilgrims love the water in the sand, When scorching rays or blue simoom sweep o'er their withering hand; The captive's heart nae gladlier beats when set from prison free, Than I when bound wi' Beauty's chain in Love's sweet glance from thee.
I loved thee, bonnie Bessie, as the earth adores the sun, I ask'd nae lands, I craved nae gear, I prized but thee alone; Ye smiled in look, but no in heart--your heart was no for me; Ye planted hope that never bloom'd in Love's sweet glance from thee.
OH! YEARS HAE COME.
Oh! years hae come, an' years hae gane, Sin' first I sought the warld alane, Sin' first I mused wi' heart sae fain On the hills o' Caledonia.
But oh! behold the present gloom, My early friends are in the tomb, And nourish now the heather bloom On the hills o' Caledonia.
My father's name, my father's lot, Is now a tale that 's heeded not, Or sang unsung, if no forgot On the hills o' Caledonia.
O' our great ha' there 's left nae stane-- A' swept away, like snaw lang gane; Weeds flourish o'er the auld domain On the hills o' Caledonia.
The Ti'ot's banks are bare and high, The stream rins sma' an' mournfu' by, Like some sad heart maist grutten dry On the hills o' Caledonia.
The wee birds sing no frae the tree, The wild-flowers bloom no on the lea, As if the kind things pitied me On the hills o' Caledonia.
But friends can live, though cold they lie, An' mock the mourner's tear an' sigh, When we forget them, then they die On the hills o' Caledonia.
An' howsoever changed the scene, While mem'ry an' my feeling 's green, Still green to my auld heart an' e'en Are the hills o' Caledonia.
MY MOUNTAIN HAME.
AIR--_"Gala Water."_
My mountain hame, my mountain hame!
My kind, my independent mother; While thought and feeling rule my frame, Can I forget the mountain heather?
Scotland dear!
I love to hear your daughters dear The simple tale in song revealing, Whene'er your music greets my ear My bosom swells wi' joyous feeling-- Scotland dear!
Though I to other lands may gae, Should Fortune's smile attend me thither, I 'll hameward come, whene'er I may, And look again on the mountain heather-- Scotland dear!
When I maun die, oh! I would lie Where life and me first met together; That my cauld clay, through its decay, Might bloom again in the mountain heather-- Scotland dear!
THOMAS SMIBERT.
A poet and indefatigable prose-writer, Thomas Smibert was born in Peebles on the 8th February 1810. Of his native town his father held for a period the office of chief magistrate. With a view of qualifying himself for the medical profession, he became apprentice to an apothecary, and afterwards attended the literary and medical cla.s.ses in the University of Edinburgh. Obtaining licence as a surgeon, he commenced practice in the village of Inverleithen, situated within six miles of his native town. He was induced to adopt this sphere of professional labour from an affection which he had formed for a young lady in the vicinity, who, however, did not recompense his devotedness, but accepted the hand of a more prosperous rival. Disappointed in love, and with a practice scarcely yielding emolument sufficient to pay the annual rent of his apothecary's store, he left Inverleithen after the lapse of a year, and returned to Peebles. He now began to turn his attention to literature, and was fortunate in procuring congenial employment from the Messrs Chambers, as a contributor to their popular _Journal_. Of this periodical he soon attained the position of sub-editor; and in evidence of the indefatigable nature of his services in this literary connexion, it is worthy of record that, during the period intervening between 1837 and 1842, he contributed to the _Journal_ no fewer than five hundred essays, one hundred tales, and about fifty biographical sketches. Within the same period he edited a new edition of Paley's "Natural Theology," with scientific notes, and wrote extensively for a work of the Messrs Chambers, ent.i.tled "Information for the People." In 1842, he was appointed to the sub-editors.h.i.+p of the _Scotsman_ newspaper. The bequest of a relative afterwards enabled him to relinquish stated literary occupation, but he continued to exhibit to the world pleasing evidences of his learning and industry. He became a frequent contributor to _Hogg's Instructor_, an Edinburgh weekly periodical; produced a work on "Greek History;" and collated a "Rhyming Dictionary." A large, magnificently ill.u.s.trated volume, the "Clans of the Highlands of Scotland," was his most ambitious and successful effort as a prose-writer. His poetical compositions, which were scattered among a number of the periodicals, he was induced to collect and publish in a volume, with the t.i.tle, "Io Anche! Poems chiefly Lyrical;" Edinburgh, 1851, 12mo. An historical play from his pen, ent.i.tled "Conde's Wife," founded on the love of Henri Quatre for Marguerite de Montmorency, whom the young Prince of Conde had wedded, was produced in 1842 by Mr Murray in the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, and during a run of nine nights was received with applause.
