When the Southern invader spread waste and disorder,

At the glance of her crescents he paused and withdrew,

For around them were marshalled the pride of the Border,

The Flowers of the Forest, the Bands of
BUCCLEUCH.

A stripling's weak hand to our revel has borne her,

No mail-glove has grasped her, no spear men surround;

But ere a bold foeman should scathe or should scorn her

A thousand true hearts would be cold on the ground.

We forget each contention of civil dissension,

And hail, like our brethren, HOME,
DOUGLAS, and CAR:

And ELLIOT and PRINGLE in pastime shall mingle,

As welcome in peace as their fathers in

war.

Then strip, lads, and to it, though sharp be the weather,

And if by mischance you should happen to fall,

There are worse things in life than a tumble on heather,

And life is itself but a game at foot-ball.

And when it is over we'll drink a blithe

measure

To each laird and each lady that witnessed our fun,

And to every blithe heart that took part in our pleasure,

To the lads that have lost and the lads that have won.

May the Forest still flourish, both Borough and Landward,

From the hall of the peer to the herd's ingle-nook;

And huzza! my brave hearts, for BucCLEUCH and his standard,

For the King and the Country, the Clan and the Duke!

Then up with the Banner, let forest winds fan her,

She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more;

In sport we 'll attend her, in battle defend her,

With heart and with hand, like our fathers before.

Jock of Hazeldean.

[1816]

AIR"A Border Melody."

'WHY weep ye by the tide, ladie?
Why weep ye by the tide ?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall be his bride:
And ye sall be his bride, ladie,

Sae comely to be seen

But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.

'Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen'—

But aye she loot the tears down fa' For Jock of Hazeldean.

'A chain of gold ye sall not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair;

Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;

And you, the foremost o' them a',
Shall ride our forest queen.'

But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.

The kirk was decked at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmered fair;

The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight are there.

They sought her baith by bower and ha';
The ladie was not seen!

She 's o'er the Border and awa'
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.

Pibroch of Donald Dhu. [1816.]

AIR" Piobair of Donuil Dhuidh."
PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,
Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan Conuil.
Come away, come away,

Hark to the summons !
Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen and From mountain so rocky,

The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid and

True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade and Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterred,
The bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges :
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come when
Forests are rended;
Come as the waves come when
Navies are stranded:
Faster come, faster come,
Faster and faster,

Chief, vassal, page and groom,
Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come;
See how they gather!

Wide waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set!

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
Knell for the onset!

Nora's Vow.

WRITTEN FOR ALBYN'S ANTHOLOGY.

[1816.]

AIR-"Cha teid mis a chaoidh."

HEAR What Highland Nora said,
'The Earlie's son I will not wed,
Should all the race of nature die
And none be left but he and I.
For all the gold, for all the gear,
And all the lands both far and near,
That ever valor lost or won,

I would not wed the Earlie's son.'

'A maiden's vows,' old Callum spoke, 'Are lightly made and lightly broke; 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.'

If they rob us of name and pursue us with beagles,

Give their roofs to the flame and their flesh to the eagles!

Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance,
Grigalach!

Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, etc. While there's leaves in the forest and foam on the river,

MacGregor, despite them, shall flourish forever!

Come then, Grigalach, come then,
Grigalach!

Come then, come then, come then, etc.

Through the depths of Loch Katrine the steed shall career,

O'er the peak of Ben-Lomond the galley shall steer,

And the rocks of Craig-Royston like icicles melt,

Ere our wrongs be forgot or our vengeance unfelt.

Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather, etc.

MacGregor's Gathering.

WRITTEN FOR ALBYN'S ANTHOLOGY.

[1816.]

AIR" Thain' a Grigalach."

THE MOON 's on the lake and the mist's on the brae,

And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;

Then gather, gather, gather, Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather, etc.

Our signal for fight, that from monarchs we drew,

Must be heard but by night in our vengeful haloo!

Then haloo, Grigalach! haloo, Grigalach!

Haloo, haloo, haloo, Grigalach, etc.

Glen Orchy's proud mountains, Coalchurn and her towers,

Glenstrae and Glenlyon no longer are ours; We're landless, landless, landless, Grigalach!

Landless, landless, landless, etc.

But doomed and devoted by vassal and lord,

MacGregor has still both his heart and his

sword!

Then courage, courage, courage, Grigalach!

Courage, courage, courage, etc.

66

Verses

COMPOSED FOR THE OCCASION, ADAPTED TO HAYDN'S
AIR, GOD SAVE THE EMPEROR FRANCIS,' AND SUNG
BY A SELECT BAND AFTER THE DINNER GIVEN BY
THE LORD PROVOST OF EDINBURGH TO THE GRAND-
DUKE NICHOLAS OF RUSSIA, AND HIS SUITE, 19TH
DECEMBER, 1816.

GOD protect brave ALEXANDER,
Heaven defend the noble Czar,
Mighty Russia's high Commander,
First in Europe's banded war;
For the realms he did deliver
From the tyrant overthrown,
Thou, of every good the Giver,
Grant him long to bless his own!
Bless him, mid his land's disaster
For her rights who battled brave;
Of the land of foemen master,
Bless him who their wrongs forgave.

O'er his just resentment victor,
Victor over Europe's foes,

Late and long supreme director,
Grant in peace his reign may close.
Hail! then, hail! illustrious stranger!
Welcome to our mountain strand;
Mutual interests, hopes, and danger,
Link us with thy native land.
Freemen's force or false beguiling
Shall that union ne'er divide,
Hand in hand while peace is smiling,
And in battle side by side.

A sort of stimulant which hath its uses
To raise the spirits and reform the juices,
Sovereign specific for all sorts of cures
In my wife's practice and perhaps in yours -
The Sultaun lacking this same wholesome
bitter,

Or cordial smooth for prince's palate fitter -
Or if some Mollah had hag-rid his dreams
With Degial, Ginnistan, and such wild
themes

Belonging to the Mollah's subtle craft,
I wot not- but the Sultaun never laughed,
Scarce ate or drank, and took a melancholy
That scorned all remedy profane or holy;
In his long list of melancholies, mad

Or mazed or dumb, hath Burton none so bad.