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JOCK OF HAZELDEAN.
AiB-A Border Melody, In the spring of 1805, a young gentleman of talents, and of a most amiable disposition, perished by losing the first stanza of this ballad is ancient. The others his way on the mountain Hellvellyn. His remains were written for Mr Campbell's Albyn's Anthology. were not discovered till three months afterwards, when they were found guarded by a faithful terrier-bitch, his constant attendant during frequent solitary ram- «Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? bles through the wilds of Cumberland and Westmore- Why weep ye by the tide ? land.
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall be his bride:
ye sall be his bride, ladie, I climb'd the dark brow of the mighty Hellvellyn,
Sae comely to be seen»--
For Jock of Hazeldean.
« Now let this wilful grief be done, On the right, Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was And dry that cheek so pale; bending,
Young Frank is chief of Errington, And Catchedicam its left verge was defending,
And lord of Langley-dale; Onc huge nameless rock in the front was ascending,
His step is first in peaceful ba', When I mark'd the sad spot where the wanderer had His sword in battle keenadied.
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean. Dark green was the spot mid the brown mountain heather,
« A chain o' gold ye sall not lack, Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretch'd in decay,
Nor braid to bind your hair;
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost o' them a', For, faithful in death, his mute favourite attended,
Shall ride our forest queens The much-loved remains of her master defended,
But aye she loot the tears down fa* And chased the hill-fox and the raven away.
For Jock of Hazeldean.
How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber?
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart? And, oh! was it meet, that,
-no requiem read o'cr him, No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, And thou, little guardian, alone stretch'd before him,
Unhonour'd the Pilgrim from life should depart?
The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmerd fair;
And dame and knight are there.
The ladie was not seen!
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.
When a prince to the fate of the peasant has yielded,
LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF.
Air-Cadil gu lot
O nusu thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight;
Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; In the proudly-arched chapel the banners are beaming;
The woods and the glens, from the lowers which we see Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming,
They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee. Lamenting a chief of the people should fall.
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadil gulo,
O ho ro, i ri ri, etc. But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,
O fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb; It calls but the warders that guard thy repose; When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in their bows would be bended, their blades would be read stature,
Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
O ho ro, i ri ri, etc.
"Sleep on till day. These words, adapted to a weledra With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, what different from the original, are sung in my friend Nr Tr* In the arms of Hellvellyn and Catchedicam.
drama of Guy Mannering.
O hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come,
O ho ro, i ri ri, etc.
Faster come, faster come,
Faster and faster,
groom, Tenant and master.
PIBROCH OF DONALD DHU.
Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather!
Blended with heather.
Forward cach man set!
Knell for the onset!
Written for Albyn's Anthology.
Air-Piobair of Dhonuil Duidh.'
Tois is a very ancient pibroch belonging to the Clan Mac-Donald, and supposed to refer to the expedition of
NORA'S VOW. Donald Balloch, who, in 1431, launched from the Isles with a considerable force, invaded Lochaber, and at
Written for Albyn's Anthology. loverlochy defeated and put to flight the Earls of Mar
Air-Cha teid mis a chaoidh.' and Caithness, though at the head of an army superior to his own. The words of the set theme, or melody,
In the original Gaelic, the lady makes protestations to which the pipe variations are applied, run thus in that she will not go with the Red Earl's son until the Gaelic:
swan should build in the cliff, and the eagle in the lake Piabairear bd Dboogil, piobaireachd Dbonuil ;
-until one mountain should change places with anPiobaireachd Dhogail Daidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil;
other, and so forth. It is but fair to add, that there is Piobaireachd Dboauil Duidh, piobaireachd Dhonuil;
no authority for supposing that she altered her mindPieb agus bratach air faiche Inverlochi.
except the vehemence of her protestation.
Hear what Highland Nora said,
« The Earlie's son I will not wed,
And none be left but he and I.
For all the gold, for all the gear,
And all the lands both far and
That ever valour lost or won,
I would not wed the Earlie's son.»
«A maiden's vows,» old Callum spoke,
« Are lightly made, and lightly broke; Gentles and commons.
The heather on the mountain's height
Begins to bloom in purple light;
The frost-wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet Nora, ere its bloom be gone,
May blithely wed the Earlie's son.»
« The swan,» she said, « the lake's clear breast Come every steel blade, and
May barter for the eagle's nest;
The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn,
Ben-Cruaichan fall, and crush Kilchurn,
Our kilted clans, when blood is high,
Before their foes may turn and fly;
But I, were all these marvels done,
Would never wed the Earlie's son.»
Still in the water-lily's shade
Her wonted nest the wild-swan made,
Ben-Cruaichan stands as fast as ever,
Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river;
To shup the clash of foeman's steel,
No Highland brogue has turo'd the heel;
But Nora's heart is lost and won,
- She's wedded to the Earlie's son!
The Pibroch of Donald the Black.
1 I will never go with him..
The boiling eddy see liim try,
Then dashing from the current high,
Till watchful eye and cautious land
İlave led his wasted strength to land. MACKRIMMON, hereditary piper to the Laird of Macleod, is said to have composed this lament when the
'T is blithe along the midnight tide, clan was about to depart upon a distant and dangerous
With stalwart arm the boat to guide; expedition. The minstrel was impressed with a belief,
On high the dazzling blaze to rear, which the event verified, that he was to be slain in the
And heedful plunge the barbed spear;
Rock, wood, and scaur, emerging bright, approaching feud; and hence the Gaelic words, « Cha till mi tuille; ged thillis Macleod, cha till Macrimmon,»
Fling on the stream their ruddy light, • I shall never return; although Macleod returns, yet
And from the bank our band appears Mackrimmon shall never return !»
Like genii, arm'd with fiery spears.
The piece is but 1oo well known, from its being the strain with which the emigrants from the West Highlands and Isles usual
"T is blithe at eve to tell the tale, ly take leave of their native shore.
How we succeed, and how we fall,
Or lowlier board of Ashestiel ; ?
Bickers the fire, and flows the wincGleam war-axe and broadsword, clang target and quiver, Days free from thought, and nights from care, As Mackrimmon sings, « Farewell to Duqvegan for ever! My blessing on the forest fair! Farewell to each cliff, on which breakers are foaming, Farewell each dark glen, in which red deer arc roaming ; Farewell lonely Skye, to lake, mountain, and river, Macleod may return, but Mackrimmon shall never! THE SUN UPON THE WEIRDLAW-HILL.
AIR-Rimhin aluin 'stu mo run. - Farewell the bright clouds that onQuillan are sleeping; Farewell the bright eyes in the Dun that are weeping; To each minstrel delusion, farewell!--and for ever- | The air, composed by the Editor of Albyn's Anthology. Vackrimmon departs, to return to you never !
The words written for Mr George Thomson's Scottish The Banshee's wild voice sings the death-dirge before me, Melodies. The pall of the dead for a mantle hangs o'er me; But my heart shall not flag, and my nerves shall not shiver,
The sun upon the Weirdlaw-hill, Though devoted I go-to return again never!
In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet;
The westland wind is hush and still, Too oft shall the notes of Mackrimmon's bewailing
The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Be heard when the Gael on their exile are sailings
Yet not the landscape to mine eye Dear land! to the shores, whence unwilling we sever,
Bears thosc bright hues that once it bore;
Though evening, with her richest dye,
Flames o'er the hills of Eutrick's shore.
With listless look along the plain,
I see Tweed's silver current glide,
Of Melrose rise in ruin d pride.
The quiet lake, the balmy air, ON ETTRICK FOREST'S MOUNTAINS DUN.2
The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree, Os Ettrick Forest's mountains dun,
Are they still such as once they were, 'T is blithe to hear the sportsman's gun,
Or is the dreary change in me?
Alas, the warp'd and broken board,
How can it bear the painter's dye! Where chiefs of yore sleep lone and sound,
The harp of strain'd and tuneless chord, And springs, where gray-hair'd shepherds tell,
How to the midstrel's skill reply! That still the fairies love to dwell.
To aching cyes each landscape lowers,
To feverish pulse each gale blows chill; Along the silver streams of Tweed,
And Araby's or Eden's bowers
Were barren as this moorland hill.
"Alwyn, the seat of the Lord Somerville, now, alas! notebanted,
by the lamented death of that kind and hospitable nobleman, the 1. We retorp no more..
author's nearest Deighbour and intimate friend. • Written after a week's shooting and fishing, in which the poet
· Ashestiel, the poet's residence at that time. had been engaged with some friends.
THE MAID OF ISLA.
Air-The Maid of Isla. Written for Mr George Thomson's Scottish Melodies.
THE MONKS OF BANGOR'S MARCH.
Air-Yandaith Mionge. Written for Mr George Thomson's Welch Melodies.
O MAID of Isla, from the cliff,
That looks on troubled wave and sky, Dost thou noi see yon little skiff
Contend with ocean gallantly? Now beating 'gainst the breeze and surge,
And steep'd her leeward deck in foam, Why does she war unequal urge?—
O Isla's maid, she seeks her home.
ETHELRID, or Olfrid, King of Northumberland, baring besieged Chester in 613, and Brockmael, a British prince, advancing to relieve it, the religious of the neighbouring monastery of Bangor marched in proces. sion, to pray for the success of their countrymen. But the British being totally defeated, the heathen victor put the monks to the sword, and destroyed their monastery. The tune to which these verses are adapted is called the Monks' March, and is supposed to have been played at their ill-omened procession.
O Isla's maid, yon sea-bird mark,
Her white wing gleams through mist and spray, Against the storm-clad, louring dark,
As to the rock she wheels away ;Where clouds are dark and billows rave,
Why to the shelter should she come Of cliff, exposed to wind and wave?
O maid of Isla, 't is her home.
As breeze and tide to yonder skiff,
Thou 'rt adverse to the suit I bring, And cold as is yon wintery cliff,
Where sea-birds close their wearied wing. Yet cold as rock, unkind as wave,
Still, Isla's maid, to thee I come ; For in tly love, or in his grave,
Must Allan Vourich find his home.
Waen the heathen trumpet's clang
O miserere, Domine !
O miserere, Domine! Bands that masses only sung, Hands that censers only swung, Met the northern bow and bill, Heard the war-cry wild and slırill: Woe to Brockmaei's feeble hand, Woe to Olfrid's bloody brand, Woc to Saxon cruelty,
O miserere, Domine!
Set to music by John Whitefield, Mus. Doc. Cam. The last of our steers on the board has been spread, And the last flask of wine in our goblets is red; Up! up, my brave kinsmen! belt swords and begone! There are dangers to dare, and there's spoil to be won.
that so lately mix'd glances with ours, For a space must be dim, as they gaze from the towers, And strive to distinguish, through tempest and gloom, The prance of the steed, and the toss of the plume.
The rain is descending; the wind rises loud ;
Weltering amid warriors slain,
Sing O miserere, Domine!
O miserere, Domine ?
Our steeds are impatient! I hear my blithe Gray!
The drawbridge has dropp'd, the bugle has blown;
slain; To their health, and their glee, that see Teviot again!
' William of Malmesbury says, that in his time the extent at the ruins of the monastery bore ample witness to the desolatie *** sioned by the massacre ;--- tot semirati parietes ecclesiae, *** anfractus porticum, tanta turba ruderum quantum vis alibi cert