Chapter 2

JOHN WRIGHT, 137 An autumnal cloud, 139 The maiden fair, 140 The old blighted thorn, 141 The wrecked mariner, 141

JOSEPH GRANT, 143 The blackbird's hymn is sweet, 145 Love's adieu, 146

DUGALD MOORE, 147 Rise, my love, 149 Julia, 150 Lucy's grave, 152 The forgotten brave, 153 The first ship, 154 Weep not, 155 To the Clyde, 156

REV. T. G. TORRY ANDERSON, 158 The Araby maid, 160 The maiden's vow, 160 I love the sea, 162

GEORGE ALLAN, 163 Is your war-pipe asleep? 166 I will think of thee yet, 167 Lassie, dear lassie, 168 When I look far down on the valley below me, 169 I will wake my harp when the shades of even, 170

THOMAS BRYDSON, 172 All lovely and bright, 173

CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY, 174 She died in beauty, 177 The Scottish blue bells, 177

ROBERT MILLER, 179 Where are they? 179 Lay of the hopeless, 180

ALEXANDER HUME, 182 My wee, wee wife, 187 O, poverty! 187 Nanny, 188 My Bessie, 189 Menie Hay, 190 I 've wander'd on the sunny hill, 192 Oh! years hae come, 193 My mountain hame, 194

THOMAS SMIBERT, 195 The Scottish widow's lament, 197 The hero of St. John D'Acre, 199 Oh! bonnie are the howes, 200 Oh! say na you maun gang awa, 201

JOHN BETHUNE, 203 Withered flowers, 207 A spring song, 208

ALLAN STEWART, 211 The sea boy, 212 Menie Lorn, 213 The young soldier, 214 The land I love, 215

ROBERT L. MALONE, 216 The thistle of Scotland, 217 Hame is aye hamely, 218

PETER STILL, 220 Jeanie's lament, 221 Ye needna be courtin' at me, 222 The bucket for me, 223

ROBERT NICOLL, 225 Ordé Braes, 228 The Muir o' Gorse and Broom, 229 The bonnie Hieland hills, 230 The bonnie rowan bush, 231 Bonnie Bessie Lee, 233

ARCHIBALD STIRLING IRVING, 235 The wild rose blooms, 236

ALEXANDER A. RITCHIE, 237 The Wells o' Wearie, 239

ALEXANDER LAING, 241 Ae happy hour, 243 Lass gin ye wad lo'e me, 244 Lass of Logie, 245 My ain wife, 246 The maid o' Montrose, 247 Jean of Aberdeen, 249 The hopeless exile, 250 Glen-na-H'Albyn, 250

ALEXANDER CARLILE, 252 Wha 's at the window, 253 My brothers are the stately trees, 254 The Vale of Killean, 255

JOHN NEVAY, 257 The emigrant's love-letter, 259

THOMAS LYLE, 261 Kelvin Grove, 264 The trysting hour, 265 Harvest song, 266

JAMES HOME, 267 Mary Steel, 268 Oh, hast thou forgotten? 269 The maid of my heart, 270 Song of the emigrant, 271 This lassie o' mine, 272

JAMES TELFER, 273 Oh, will ye walk the wood wi' me? 273 I maun gae over the sea, 275

METRICAL TRANSLATIONS FROM THE MODERN GAELIC MINSTRELSY.

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EVAN MACLACHLAN, 279 A melody of love, 281 The mavis of the clan, 282

JOHN BROWN, 286 The sisters of Dunolly, 287

CHARLES STEWART, D.D., 289 Luineag--a love carol, 290

ANGUS FLETCHER, 292 The Clachan of Glendaruel, 292 The lassie of the glen, 294

* * * * *

GLOSSARY, 295

THE

MODERN SCOTTISH MINSTREL.

HENRY SCOTT RIDDELL.

Henry Scott Riddell, one of the most powerful and pleasing of the living national song-writers, was born on the 23d September 1798, at Sorbie, in the Vale of Ewes--a valley remarkable for its pastoral beauty, lying in the south-east of Dumfriesshire. His father was a shepherd, well acquainted with the duties of his profession, and a man of strong though uneducated mind. "My father, while I was yet a child," writes Mr Riddell, in a MS. autobiography, "left Sorbie; but when I had become able to traverse both _burn_ and _brae_, hill and glen, I frequently returned to, and spent many weeks together in, the vale of my nativity. We had gone, under the same employer, to what pastoral phraseology terms '_an out-bye herding_,' in the wilds of Eskdalemuir, called Langshawburn. Here we continued for a number of years, and had, in this remote, but most friendly and hospitable district, many visitors, ranging from Sir Pulteney Malcolm down to Jock Gray, whom Sir Walter Scott, through one of his strange mistakes, called Davy Gellatly.... Among others who constituted a part of the company of these days, was one whom I have good reason to remember--the Ettrick Shepherd. Nor can I forbear observing that his seemed one of those hearts that do not become older in proportion as the head grows gray. Cheerful as the splendour of heaven, he carried the feelings, and, it may be said, the simplicity and pursuits of youth, into his maturer years; and if few of the sons of men naturally possessed such generous influence in promoting, so likewise few enjoyed so much pleasure in participating in the expedients of recreation, and the harmless glee of those who meet under the rural roof--the shepherd's _bien_ and happy home. This was about the time when Hogg began to write, or at least to publish: as I can remember from the circumstance of my being able to repeat the most part of the pieces in his first publication by hearing them read by others before I could read them myself. It may, perhaps, be worth while to state that at these meetings the sons of farmers, and even of lairds, did not disdain to make their appearance, and mingle delightedly with the lads that wore the crook and plaid. Where pride does not come to chill nor foppery to deform homely and open-hearted kindness, yet where native modesty and self-respect induce propriety of conduct, society possesses its own attractions, and can subsist on its own resources.

"At these happy meetings I treasured up a goodly store of old Border ballads, as well as modern songs; for in those years of unencumbered and careless existence, I could, on hearing a song, or even a ballad, sung twice, have fixed it on my mind word for word. My father, with his family, leaving Langshawburn, went to Capplefoot, on the Water of Milk, and there for one year occupied a farm belonging to Thomas Beattie, Esq. of Muckledale, and who, when my father was in Ewes, had been his friend. My employment here was, along with a younger brother, to tend the cows. In the winter season we entered the Corrie school, but had only attended a short while when we both took fever, and our attendance was not resumed. At Langshawburn, my father for several winters hired a person into his house, who taught his family and that of a neighbouring shepherd. In consequence of our distance from any place of regular education, I had also been boarded at several schools--at Devington in Eskdale, Roberton on Borthwick Water, and Newmill on the Teviot, at each of which, however, I only remained a short time, making, I suppose, such progress as do other boys who love the football better than the spelling-book.

"At the Whitsunday term my father relinquished his farm, and returned to his former employment in the Forest of Ettrick, under Mr Scott of Deloraine, to whom he had been a shepherd in his younger days. With this family, indeed, and that of Mr Borthwick, then of Sorbie, and late of Hopesrigg, all his years since he could wear the plaid were passed, with the exception of the one just mentioned. It was at Deloraine that I commenced the shepherd's life in good earnest. Through the friendly partiality of our employer, I was made principal shepherd at an age considerably younger than it is usual for most others to be intrusted with so extensive a _hirsel_[1] as was committed to my care. I had by this time, however, served what might be regarded as a regular apprenticeship to the employment, which almost all sons of shepherds do, whether they adhere to herding sheep in after-life or not. Seasons and emergencies not seldom occur when the aid which the little boy can lend often proves not much less availing than that of the grown-up man. Education in this line consequently commences early. A knowledge of the habits, together with the proper treatment of sheep, and therefore of pastoral affairs in general, 'grows with the growth' of the individual, and becomes, as it were, a portion of his nature. I had thus assisted my father more or less all along; and when a little older, though still a mere boy, I went for a year to a friend at Glencotha, in Holmswater, as assistant shepherd or lamb-herd. Another year in the same capacity I was with a shepherd in Wester Buccleuch. It was at Glencotha that I first made a sustained attempt to compose in rhyme. When in Wester Buccleuch my life was much more lonely, and became more tinged with thoughts and feelings of a romantic cast. Owing to the nature of the stock kept on the farm, it was my destiny day after day to be out among the mountains during the whole summer season from early morn till the fall of even. But the long summer days, whether clear or cloudy, never seemed long to me--I never wearied among the wilds. My flocks being _hirsled_, as it is expressed, required vigilance: but, if this was judiciously maintained, the task was for the most part an easy and pleasant one. I know not if it be worth while to mention that the hills and glens on which my charge pastured at this period formed a portion of what in ancient times was termed the Forest of Rankleburn. The names of places in the district, though there were no other more intelligible traditions, might serve to shew that it is a range of country to which both kings and nobles had resorted. If from morning to night I was away far from the homes of living men, I was not so in regard to those of the dead. Where a lesser stream from the wild uplands comes down and meets the Rankleburn, a church or chapel once stood, surrounded, like most other consecrated places of the kind, by a burial-ground. There tradition says that five dukes, some say kings, lie buried under a marble stone. I had heard that Sir Walter, then Mr Scott, had, a number of years previously, made a pilgrimage to this place, for the purpose of discovering the sepulchres of the great and nearly forgotten dead, but without success. This, however, tended, in my estimation, to confirm the truth of the tradition; and having enough of time and opportunity, I made many a toilsome effort of a similar nature, with the same result. With hills around, wild and rarely trodden, and the ceaseless yet ever-varying tinkling of its streams, together with the mysterious echoes which the least stir seemed to awaken, the place was not only lonely, but also creative of strange apprehensions, even in the hours of open day. It is strange that the heart will fear the dead, which, perhaps, never feared the living. Though I could muster and maintain courage to dig perseveringly among the dust of the long-departed when the sun shone in the sky, yet when the shadow of night was coming, or had come down upon the earth, the scene was sacredly secure from all inroad on my part: and to make the matter sufficiently intelligible, I may further mention that, some years afterwards, when I took a fancy one evening to travel eight miles to meet some friends in a shepherd's lone muirland dwelling, I made the way somewhat longer for the sake of evading the impressive loneliness of this locality. I had no belief that I should meet accusing spirits of the dead; but I disliked to be troubled in waging war with those _eery_ feelings which are the offspring of superstitious associations.

"While a lamb-herd at Buccleuch, I read when I could get a book which was not already threadbare. I had a few chisels, and files, and other tools, with which I took pleasure in constructing, of wood or bone, pieces of mechanism; and I kept a diary in which I wrote many minute and trivial matters, as well, no doubt as I then thought, many a sage observation. In this, likewise, I wrote rude rhymes on local occurrences. But I have anticipated a little. On returning home from Glencotha, and two years before I went to Buccleuch, a younger brother and I had still another round at herding cattle, which pastured in a park near by my father's cottage. Our part was to protect a meadow which formed a portion of it; and the task being easy to protect that for which the cattle did not much care, nor yet could skaithe greatly though they should trespass upon it, we were far too idle not to enter upon and prosecute many a wayward and unprofitable ploy. Our predilections for taming wild birds--the wilder by nature the better--seemed boundless; and our family of hawks, and owls, and ravens was too large not to cost us much toil, anxiety, and even sorrow. We fished in the Ettrick and the lesser streams. These last suited our way of it best, since we generally fished with staves and plough-spades--thus far, at least, honourably giving the objects of our pursuit a fair chance of escape. When the hay had been won, we went to Ettrick school, at which we continued throughout the winter, travelling to and from it daily, though it lay at the distance of five miles. This we, in good weather, accomplished conveniently enough; but it proved occasionally a serious and toilsome task through wind and rain, or keen frost and deep snow, when winter days and the mountain blasts came on.

"My father after being three years in Stanhopefoot, on the banks of the Ettrick, went to Deloraineshiels, an _out-bye herding_, under the same employer. In the winter season either I or some other of the family assisted him; but so often as the weather was fine, we went to a school instituted by a farmer in the neighbourhood for behoof of his own family. When by and by I went to herd the _hirsel_ which my father formerly tended, like most other regular shepherds I delighted in and was proud of the employment. A considerable portion of another _hirsel_ lying contiguous, and which my elder brother herded, was for the summer season of the year added to mine, so that this already large was made larger; but exempted as I was from attending to aught else but my flock, I had pleasant days, for I loved the wilds among which it had become alike my destiny and duty to walk at will, and 'view the sheep thrive bonnie.' The hills of Ettrick are generally wild and green, and those of them on which I daily wandered, musing much and writing often, were as high, green, and wild, as any of them all.... It may be the partiality arising from early habit which induces me to think that a man gets the most comprehensive and distinct view of any subject which may occupy thought when he is walking, provided fatigue has not overtaken him. Mental confidence awake amid the stir seems increased by the exercise of bodily power, and becomes free and fearless as the step rejoicing in the ample scope afforded by the broad green earth and circumambient sky. On the same grounds, I have sometimes marvelled if it might not be the majesty of motion, as one may say, reigning around the seaman's soul, that made his heart so frank in communication, and in action his arm so vigorously energetic. At all events, there was in these days always enough around one to keep interest more or less ardent awake--

"'Prompting the heart to pour the impassion'd strain Afar 'mid solitude's eternal reign, In numbers fearless all as unconfined, And wild as wailings of the desert wind.'

"According to my ability I studied while wandering among the mountains, and at intervals, adopting my knee for my desk, wrote down the results of my musing. Let not the shepherd ever forget his dog--his constant companion and best friend, and without which all his efforts would little avail! Mine knew well the places where in my rounds I was wont to pause, and especially the majestic seat which I occupied so often on the loftiest peak of Stanhopelaw. It had also an adopted spot of rest the while, and, confident of my habits, would fold itself down upon it ere I came forward; and would linger still, look wistful, and marvel why if at any time I passed on without making my wonted delay. I did not follow these practices only 'when summer days were fine.' The lines of an epistle written subsequently will convey some idea of my habits:--

"'My early years were pass'd far on The hills of Ettrick wild and lone; Through summer sheen and winter shade Tending the flocks that o'er them stray'd. In bold enthusiastic glee I sung rude strains of minstrelsy, Which mingling with died o'er the dale, Unheeded as the plover's wail. Oft where the waving rushes shed A shelter frail around my head, Weening, though not through hopes of fame, To fix on these more lasting claim, I'd there secure in rustic scroll The wayward fancies of the soul. Even where yon lofty rocks arise, Hoar as the clouds on wintry skies, Wrapp'd in the plaid, and dern'd beneath The colder cone of drifted wreath, I noted them afar from ken, Till ink would freeze within the pen; So deep the spell which bound the heart Unto the bard's undying art-- So rapt the charm that still beguiled The minstrel of the mountains wild.'