Part 12

The weary sun 's gaen down the west, The birds sit nodding on the tree; All nature now prepares for rest, But rest prepared there 's none for me. The trumpet sounds to war's alarms, The drums they beat, the fifes they play,-- Come, Mary, cheer me wi' thy charms, For the morn I will be far away.

Good night, and joy--good night, and joy, Good night, and joy be wi' you a'; For since its so that I must go, Good night, and joy be wi' you a'!

I grieve to leave my comrades dear, I mourn to leave my native shore; To leave my aged parents here, And the bonnie lass whom I adore. But tender thoughts maun now be hush'd, When danger calls I must obey. The transport waits us on the coast, And the morn I will be far away. Good night, and joy, &c.

Adieu, dear Scotia's sea-beat coast! Though bleak and drear thy mountains be, When on the heaving ocean tost, I 'll cast a wishful look to thee! And now, dear Mary, fare thee well, May Providence thy guardian be! Or in the camp, or on the field, I 'll heave a sigh, and think on thee! Good night, and joy, &c.

[87] We have been favoured, by Mr Matthew Tannahill, with a copy of the above song of his late gifted brother. It is not included in any edition of his poems, but has been printed, through the favour of Mr M. Tannahill, in the "Book of Scottish Song."

HENRY DUNCAN, D.D.

Dr Henry Duncan the distinguished founder of Savings' Banks, and the promoter of various schemes of social economy, we are enabled to record among the contributors to Caledonian minstrelsy. He was descended through both parents from a succession of respectable clergymen of the Scottish Church. His father George Duncan, was minister of Lochrutton in the stewartry of Kircudbright, and the subject of this memoir was born in the manse of that parish, on the 8th October 1774. After a period of training at home under a private tutor, he was sent to the Academy of Dumfries to complete his preparation for the University. At the age of fourteen, he entered as a student the United College of St Andrews, but after an attendance of two years at that seat of learning, he was induced, on the invitation of his relative Dr Currie, to proceed to Liverpool, there to prepare himself for a mercantile profession, by occupying a situation in the banking office of Messrs Heywood. After a trial of three years, he found the avocations of business decidedly uncongenial, and firmly resolved to follow the profession of his progenitors, by studying for the ministry of the Church of Scotland. He had already afforded evidence of ability to grapple with questions of controversial theology, by printing a tract against the errors of Socinianism, which, published anonymously, attracted in the city of Liverpool much attention from the originality with which the usual arguments were illustrated and enforced. Of the concluding five years of his academical course, the first and two last were spent at the University of Edinburgh, the other two at that of Glasgow. In 1797, he was enrolled as a member of the Speculative Society of the University of Edinburgh, and there took his turn in debate with Henry Brougham, Francis Horner, Lord Henry Petty afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne, and other young men of genius, who then adorned the academic halls of the Scottish capital. With John Leyden, W. Gillespie afterwards minister of Kells, and Robert Lundie the future minister of Kelso, he formed habits of particular intimacy. From the Presbytery of Dumfries, he obtained licence as a probationer in the spring of 1798, and he thereafter accepted the situation of tutor in the family of Colonel Erskine afterwards Earl of Mar, who then resided at Dalhonzie, near Crieff. In this post he distinguished himself by inducing the inhabitants of the district to take up arms in the defence of the country, during the excitement, which then prevailed respecting an invasion. In the spring of 1799, the parishes of Lochmaben and Ruthwell, both in the gift of the Earl of Mansfield, became simultaneously vacant, and the choice of them was accorded to Mr Duncan by the noble patron. He preferred Ruthwell, and was ordained to the charge of that parish, on the 19th September.

In preferring the parish of Ruthwell to the better position and wider field of ministerial usefulness presented at Lochmaben, Mr Duncan was influenced by the consideration, that the population of the former parish was such as would enable him to extend the pastoral superintendence to every individual of his flock. In this respect he realised his wishes; but not content with efficiently discharging the more sacred duties of a parochial clergyman, he sought with devoted assiduity, the amelioration of the physical condition of his people. Relieving an immediate destitution in the parish, by a supply of Indian corn brought on his own adventure, he was led to devise means of preventing the recurrence of any similar period of depression. With this intention, he established two friendly societies in the place, and afterwards a local bank for the savings of the industrious. The latter proved the parent of those admirable institutions for the working classes, known as _Savings' Banks_, which have since become so numerous throughout Europe and the United States of America. The Ruthwell Savings' Bank was established in 1810. Numerous difficulties attended the early operation of the system, on its general adoption throughout the country, but these were obviated and removed by the skill and promptitude of the ingenious projector. At one period his correspondence on the subject cost him in postages an annual expenditure of one hundred pounds, a sum nearly equal to half the yearly emoluments of his parochial cure. The Act of Parliament establishing Savings' Banks in Scotland, which was passed in July 1819, was procured through his indomitable exertions, and likewise the Act of 1835, providing for the better regulation of these institutions.

At Ruthwell, Dr Duncan introduced the system of popular lectures on science, which has since been adopted by Mechanics' Institutes. Further to extend the benefits of popular instruction and entertainment, he edited a series of tracts entitled "The Scottish Cheap Repository," one of the first of those periodicals devoted to the moral improvement of the people. A narrative designated "The Cottager's Fireside," which he originally contributed to this series, was afterwards published separately, and commanded a wide circulation. In 1809, Dr Duncan originated the _Dumfries and Galloway Courier_, a weekly newspaper which he conducted during the first seven years of its existence. He was a frequent contributor to "The Christian Instructor," and wrote the articles "Blair" and "Blacklock" for the _Edinburgh Encyclopaedia_. At the request of Lord Brougham, he composed two treatises on Savings' Banks and Friendly Societies, for publication by the "Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge." In 1819, he published the "Young Country Weaver," a tale calculated to disseminate just political views among the manufacturing classes; and in 1826 a tale of the times of the Covenant in three volumes, with the title of "William Douglas, or the Scottish Exiles." Deeply interested in the question of Slave Emancipation, he contributed a series of letters on the subject to the _Dumfries Courier_, which, afterwards published in the form of a pamphlet, excited no inconsiderable attention. His most valuable and successful publication, the "Sacred Philosophy of the Seasons" appeared in 1836-7 in four duodecimo volumes.

As a man of science, the name of Dr Duncan is associated with the discovery of footprints of four-footed animals in the New Red-Sandstone. He made this curious geological discovery in a quarry at Corncocklemuir, about fifteen miles distant from his parochial manse. In 1823, he received the degree of D.D. from the University of St Andrews. In 1839, he was raised to the Moderator's chair in the General Assembly. In church politics, he had early espoused liberal opinions; at the Disruption in 1843, he resigned his charge and united himself to the Free Church. He continued to minister in the parish of Ruthwell, till the appointment of an assistant and successor a short time before his decease. Revisiting the scene of his ministerial labours after a brief absence, he was struck with paralysis while conducting service at a prayer-meeting, and two days afterwards expired. He died at Comlongon, the residence of his brother-in-law Mr Phillips, on the 12th February 1846, and his remains were committed to the church-yard of Ruthwell, in which he had ministered during an incumbency of upwards of forty-six years.

Dr Duncan was twice married; first in 1804, to Miss Craig, the only surviving daughter of his predecessor, and secondly in 1836, to Mrs Lundie, the relict of his friend Mr Lundie, minister of Kelso. His memoirs have been published by his son, the Rev. George John C. Duncan, minister of the Free Church, Greenwich. A man of fine intellect, extensive and varied scholarship, and highly benevolent dispositions, Dr Duncan was much cherished and beloved alike by his parishioners and his gifted contemporaries. Pious and exemplary as became his profession, he was expert in business, and was largely endowed with an inventive genius. Though hitherto scarcely known as a poet, he wrote verses so early as his eleventh year, which are described by his biographer as having "evinced a maturity of taste, a refinement of thought, and an ease of diction which astonished and delighted his friends," and the specimens of his more mature lyrical compositions, which we have been privileged to publish from his MSS. are such as to induce some regret that they were not sooner given to the public.

CURLING SONG.

The music o' the year is hush'd, In bonny glen and shaw, man; And winter spreads o'er nature dead A winding sheet o' snaw, man. O'er burn and loch, the warlike frost, A crystal brig has laid, man; The wild geese screaming wi' surprise, The ice-bound wave ha'e fled, man.

Up, curler, frae your bed sae warm, And leave your coaxing wife, man; Gae get your besom, tramps and stane, And join the friendly strife, man. For on the water's face are met, Wi' mony a merry joke, man; The tenant and his jolly laird, The pastor and his flock, man.

The rink is swept, the tees are mark'd, The bonspiel is begun, man; The ice is true, the stanes are keen, Huzza for glorious fun, man! The skips are standing at the tee, To guide the eager game, man; Hush, not a word, but mark the broom, And tak' a steady aim, man.

There draw a shot, there lay a guard, And here beside him lie, man; Now let him feel a gamester's hand, Now in his bosom die, man; Then fill the port, and block the ice, We sit upon the tee, man; Now tak' this in-ring, sharp and neat, And mak' their winner flee, man.

How stands the game? Its eight and eight, Now for the winning shot, man; Draw slow and sure, and tak' your aim, I 'll sweep you to the spot, man. The stane is thrown, it glides along, The besoms ply it in, man; Wi' twisting back the player stands, And eager breathless grin, man.

A moment's silence, still as death, Pervades the anxious thrang, man; When sudden bursts the victor's shout, With holla's loud and lang, man. Triumphant besom's wave in air, And friendly banters fly, man; Whilst, cold and hungry, to the inn, Wi' eager steps they hie, man.

Now fill ae bumper, fill but ane, And drink wi' social glee, man, May curlers on life's slippery rink, Frae cruel rubs be free, man; Or should a treacherous bias lead Their erring course ajee, man, Some friendly in-ring may they meet, To guide them to the tee, man.

ON THE GREEN SWARD.[88]

TUNE--_"Arniston House."_

On the green sward lay William, in anguish extended, To soothe and to cheer him his Mary stood near him; But despair in the cup of his sorrows was blended, And, inwardly groaning, he wildly exclaim'd--

"Ah! look not so fondly, thou peerless in beauty, Away, I beseech thee, no comfort can reach me; A martyr to love, or a traitor to duty, My pleasure is sorrow, my hope is despair.

"Once the visions of fancy shone bright and attractive, Like distant scenes blooming which sunbeams illumine; Love pointed to wealth, and, no longer inactive, I labour'd till midnight, and rose with the dawn.

"But the day-dreams of pleasure have fled me for ever, Misfortune surrounds me, oppression confounds me; No hope to support, and no friend to deliver, Poor and wretched, alas! I must ever remain.

"And thou, my soul's treasure, whilst pitying my anguish, New poison does mix in my cup of affliction, For honour forbids (though without thee I languish) To make thee a partner of sorrow and want."

"Dear William," she cried, "I 'll no longer deceive thee, I honour thy merit, I love thy proud spirit; Too well thou art tried, and if wealth can relieve thee, My portion is ample--that portion is thine."

[88] Composed in 1804. This song and those following, by Dr Duncan, are here published for the first time.

THE RUTHWELL VOLUNTEERS.[89]

Hark! the martial drums resound, Valiant brothers, welcome all, Crowd the royal standard round, 'Tis your injured country's call. See, see, the robbers come, Ruin seize the ruthless foe; For your altars, for your homes, Heroes lay the tyrants low!

He whom dastard fears abash, He was born to be a slave-- Let him feel the despot's lash, And sink inglorious to the grave. See, see, &c.

He who spurns a coward's life, He whose bosom freedom warms, Let him share the glorious strife, We 'll take the hero to our arms. See, see, &c.

Spirits of the valiant dead, Who fought and bled at Freedom's call, In the path you dared to tread, We, your sons, will stand or fall. See, see, &c.

Bending from your airy halls, Turn on us a guardian eye-- Lead where Fame or Honour calls, And teach to conquer or to die! See, see, &c.

[89] Written in 1805, when the nation was in apprehension of the French invasion.

EXILED FAR FROM SCENES OF PLEASURE.[90]

TUNE--_"Blythe, Blythe and Merry was she."_

Exiled far from scenes of pleasure, Love sincere and friendship true, Sad I mark the moon's pale radiance, Trembling in the midnight dew.

Sad and lonely, sad and lonely, Musing on the tints decay, On the maid I love so dearly, And on pleasure's fleeting day.

Bright the moonbeams, when we parted, Mark'd the solemn midnight hour, Clothing with a robe of silver Hill, and dale, and shady bower.

Then our mutual faith we plighted, Vows of true love to repeat, Lonely oft the pale orb watching, At this hour to lovers sweet.

On thy silent face, with fondness, Let me gaze, fair queen of night, For my Annie's tears of sorrow Sparkle in thy soften'd light.

When I think my Annie views thee, Dearly do I love thy rays, For the distance that divides us Seems to vanish as I gaze.

[90] Composed in 1807.

THE ROOF OF STRAW.

I ask no lordling's titled name, Nor miser's hoarded store; I ask to live with those I love, Contented though I 'm poor. From joyless pomp and heartless mirth I gladly will withdraw, And hide me in this lowly vale, Beneath my roof of straw.

To hear my Nancy's lips pronounce A husband's cherish'd name, To press my children to my heart Are titles, wealth and fame. Let kings and conquerors delight To hold the world in awe, Be mine to find content and peace Beneath my roof of straw.

When round the winters' warm fireside We meet with social joy, The glance of love to every heart Shall speak from every eye. More lovely far such such scenes of bliss Than monarch ever saw, Even angels might delight to dwell Beneath my roof of straw.

THOU KEN'ST, MARY HAY.[91]

TUNE--_"Bonny Mary Hay."_

Thou ken'st, Mary Hay, that I loe thee weel, My ain auld wife, sae canty and leal, Then what gars thee stand wi' the tear in thine e'e, And look aye sae wae, when thou look'st at me?

Dost thou miss, Mary Hay, the saft bloom o' my cheek, And the hair curling round it, sae gentie and sleek? For the snaw 's on my head, and the roses are gane, Since that day o' days I first ca'd thee my ain.

But though, Mary Hay, my auld e'en be grown dim, An age, wi' its frost, maks cauld every limb, My heart, thou kens weel, has nae cauldness for thee, For simmer returns at the blink o' thine e'e.

The miser hauds firmer and firmer his gold, The ivy sticks close to the tree, when its old, And still thou grows't dearer to me, Mary Hay, As a' else turns eerie, and life wears away.

We maun part, Mary Hay, when our journey is done, But I 'll meet thee again in the bricht world aboon, Then what gars thee stand wi' the tear in thine e'e, And look aye sae wae when thou look'st at me?

[91] Composed in 1830.

ROBERT ALLAN.

Robert Allan was the son of a respectable flax-dresser in the village of Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire. The third of a family of ten children, he was born on the 4th of November 1774. Inheriting a taste for music, he early evinced talent in the composition of song, which was afterwards fostered by the encouragement of Tannahill and Robert Archibald Smith. With Tannahill he lived on terms of the most cordial friendship. He followed the occupation of a muslin weaver in his native place, and composed many of his best verses at the loom. He was an extensive contributor to the "Scottish Minstrel," published by R. A. Smith, his songs being set to music by the editor. In 1820, a number of his songs appeared in the "Harp of Renfrewshire." His only separate volume was published in 1836, under the editorial revision of Robert Burns Hardy, teacher of elocution in Glasgow.

In his more advanced years, Allan, who was naturally of good and benevolent dispositions, became peculiarly irritable; he fancied that his merits as a poet had been overlooked, and the feeling preyed deeply upon his mind. He entertained extreme political opinions, and conceived a dislike to his native country, which he deemed had not sufficiently estimated his genius. Much in opposition to the wishes of his friends, he sailed for New York in his 67th year. He survived the passage only six days; he died at New York on the 1st June 1841.

Robert Allan is entitled to an honourable position as a writer of Scottish song; all his lyrics evince a correct appreciation of the beautiful in nature, and of the pure and elevated in sentiment. Several of his lays are unsurpassed in genuine pathos.[92]

[92] We have to acknowledge our obligations to Mr John Macgregor, of Paisley, son-in-law of Mr Allan, for most of the particulars contained in this short memoir. Mr Macgregor prepared an extended life of the poet for our use, which, however, was scarcely suited for our purpose. A number of Mr Allan's songs, transcribed from his manuscripts, in the possession of his son in New York, were likewise communicated by Mr Macgregor. These being, in point of merit, unequal to the other productions of the bard, we have not ventured on their publication.

BLINK OVER THE BURN, MY SWEET BETTY.

Blink over the burn, my sweet Betty, Blink over the burn, love, to me; O, lang hae I look'd, my dear Betty, To get but a blink o' thine e'e. The birds are a' sporting around us, And sweetly they sing on the tree; But the voice o' my bonny sweet Betty, I trow, is far dearer to me.

The ringlets, my lovely young Betty, That wave o'er thy bonnie e'ebree, I 'll twine wi' the flowers o' the mountain, That blossom sae sweetly, like thee. Then come o'er the burn, my sweet Betty, Come over the burn, love, to me; O, sweet is the bliss, my dear Betty, To live in the blink o' thine e'e.

COME AWA, HIE AWA.

AIR--_"Haud awa frae me, Donald."_

Come awa, hie awa, Come and be mine ain, lassie; Row thee in my tartan plaid, An' fear nae wintry rain, lassie. A gowden brooch, an' siller belt, Wi' faithfu' heart I 'll gie, lassie, Gin ye will lea' your Lawland hame, For Highland hills wi' me, lassie. Come awa, &c.

A bonnie bower shall be thy hame, And drest in silken sheen, lassie. Ye 'll be the fairest in the ha', And gayest on the green, lassie. Come awa, &c.

ANSWER.

Haud awa, bide awa, Haud awa frae me, Donald; What care I for a' your wealth, And a' that ye can gie, Donald?

I wadna lea' my Lowland lad For a' your gowd and gear, Donald; Sae tak' your plaid, an' o'er the hill, An' stay nae langer here, Donald. Haud awa, &c.

My Jamie is a gallant youth, I lo'e but him alane, Donald, And in bonnie Scotland's isle, Like him there is nane, Donald; Haud awa, &c.

He wears nae plaid, or tartan hose, Nor garters at his knee, Donald; But oh, he wears a faithfu' heart, And love blinks in his e'e, Donald.

Sae haud awa, bide awa, Come nae mair at e'en, Donald; I wadna break my Jamie's heart, To be a Highland Queen, Donald.

ON THEE, ELIZA, DWELL MY THOUGHTS.

AIR--_"In yon garden fine and gay."_

On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, While straying was the moon's pale beam; At midnight, in my wand'ring sleep, I see thy form in fancy's dream.

I see thee in the rosy morn, Approach as loose-robed beauty's queen; The morning smiles, but thou art lost, Too soon is fled the sylvan scene.

Still fancy fondly dwells on thee, And adds another day of care; What bliss were mine could fancy paint Thee true, as she can paint thee fair!

O fly, ye dear deceitful dreams! Ye silken cords that bind the heart;-- Canst thou, Eliza, these entwine, And smile and triumph in the smart?

TO A LINNET.

AIR--_"M'Gilchrist's Lament."_

Chaunt no more thy roundelay, Lovely minstrel of the grove, Charm no more the hours away, With thine artless tale of love; Chaunt no more thy roundelay, Sad it steals upon mine ear; Leave, O leave thy leafy spray, Till the smiling morn appear.

Light of heart, thou quitt'st thy song, As the welkin's shadows low'r; Whilst the beetle wheels along, Humming to the twilight hour. Not like thee I quit the scene, To enjoy night's balmy dream; Not like thee I wake again, Smiling with the morning beam.

THE PRIMROSE IS BONNY IN SPRING.

AIR--_"The Banks of Eswal."_

The primrose is bonnie in spring, And the rose it is sweet in June; It 's bonnie where leaves are green, I' the sunny afternoon. It 's bonny when the sun gaes down, An' glints on the hoary knowe; It 's bonnie to see the cloud Sae red in the dazzling lowe.

When the night is a' sae calm, An' comes the sweet twilight gloom, Oh! it cheers my heart to meet My lassie amang the broom, When the birds in bush and brake, Do quit their blythe e'enin' sang; Oh! what an hour to sit The gay gowden links amang.

THE BONNIE LASS O' WOODHOUSELEE.

AIR--_"Hey the rantin' Murray's Ha'."_