HECTOR MACNEILL. HECTOR MACNEILL (1746-1818) was brought up to a mercantile life, but was unsuccessful in most of his business affairs. In 1789, he published a legendary poem, The Harp, and in 1795, his moral tale, Scotland's Skaith, or the History o' Will and Jean. The object of this production was to depict the evil effects of intemperance. A happy rural pair are reduced to ruin, descending by gradual steps till the husband is obliged to enlist as a soldier, and the wife to beg with her children through the country. The situation of the little ale-house where Will begins his unlucky potations is finely described. In a howm, whose bonny burnie Window broads just painted red; Up the gavel-end, thick spreadin', Down below, a flowery meadow Painted bright between twa trees. 'Godsake, Tam! here's walth for drinking! Wha can this new-comer be?' 'Hout,' quo' Tam, 'there 's drouth in thinkingLet's in, Will, and syne we 'll see.' The rustic friends have a jolly meeting, and do Wha was ance like Willie Gairlace? Whan he first saw Jeanie Miller, Thousands had mair braws and siller, See them now!-how changed wi' drinking! Claise and cash and credit out- Wi' ilk face as white's a clout! Bond and bill and debts a' stoppit, Ilka sheaf selt on the bent; Cattle, beds, and blankets roupit, Now to pay the laird his rent. No anither night to lodge here- She wi' weans to beg her bread! The little domestic drama is happily wound up : Sometimes briskly, sometimes flaggin', Hirpling aye towards the north. Willie, heedless, tint his gate. Saft the southland breeze was blawing, Strack the ear wi' thundering thud: Roslin's towers and braes sae bonny! Save the Muses' Hawthornden! Faint at length, the day fast closing, 'Soldier, rise !-the dews o' e'ening Gathering, fa' wi' deadly skaith!- Sleep na here, and catch your death.'. . . . Silent stept he on, poor fellow! Listening to his guide before, Laigh it was, yet sweet and humble; Melville's towers, sae white and stately, Entering now, in transport mingle 'Changed I am,' sighed Willie till her; Nought o' Willie Gairlace see?' FROM 1780 Hae ye marked the dews o' morning Hae ye seen the bird, fast fleeing, Drap, when pierced by death mair fleet? After three lang years' affliction A' their waes now hushed to restJean ance mair, in fond affection, Clasps her Willie to her breast. 'Is it my wee thing, is it my ain thing, Is it my true love here that I see? 'O Jamie, forgie me; your heart's constant to me; I'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee.' JOHN MAYNE. JOHN MAYNE, author of the Siller Gun, Glasgow, and other poems, was a native of Dumfriesborn in the year 1761-and died in London in 1836. He was brought up to the printing business, and whilst apprentice in the Dumfries Journal office in 1777, in his sixteenth year, he published the germ of his Siller Gun in a quarto page of twelve stanzas. The subject of the poem is an ancient custom in Dumfries, called 'Shooting for the Siller Gun,' the gun being a small silver tube presented by James VI. to the incorporated trades as a prize to the best marksman. This poem Mr Mayne continued to enlarge and improve up to the time of his death. The twelve stanzas expanded in two years to two cantos; in another year (1780) the poem was published-enlarged to three cantos-in Ruddiman's Magazine; and in 1808 it was published in London in four cantos. This edition was seen by Sir Walter Scott, who said (in one of his notes to the Lady of the Lake) The simple truth and pathos of descriptions like these appealed to the heart, and soon rendered Macneill's poem universally popular in Scotland. Its moral tendency was also a strong recommendation, and the same causes still operate in procuring readers for the tale, especially in that class best fitted to appreciate its rural beauties and homely pictures, and to receive benefit from the lessons it inculcates. Macneill wrote several Scottish lyrics, and published a descriptive poem, entitled The Links of Forth, or a Parting Peep at the Carse of Stirling; and some prose tales, in which he laments the effect of modern change and improvement. The latter years of the poet'that it surpassed the efforts of Fergusson, and were spent in comparative comfort in Edinburgh. Mary of Castle Cary. 'Saw ye my wee thing, saw ye my ain thing, 'I saw nae your wee thing, I saw nae your ain thing, 'It was nae my wee thing, it was nae my ain thing, 'It was then your Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary; Defend ye, fause traitor; fu' loudly ye lie.' 'Away wi' beguiling,' cried the youth, smiling- The came near to those of Burns.' Mr Mayne was Logan Braes. By Logan's streams, that rin sae deep, Nae mair at Logan kirk will he At e'en, when hope amaist is gane, Helen of Kirkconnel. Helen Irving, a young lady of exquisite beauty and accomplishments, daughter of the Laird of Kirkconnel, in Annandale, was betrothed to Adam Fleming de Kirkpatrick, a young gentleman of rank and fortune in that neighbourhood. Walking with her lover on the sweet banks of the Kirtle, she was murdered by a disappointed and sanguinary rival. This catastrophe took place during the reign of Mary, Queen of Scots, and is the subject of three different ballads: the first two are old, the third is the composition of the author of the Siller Gun. It was first inserted in the Edinburgh Annual Register (1815) by Sir Walter Scott. I wish I were where Helen lies, Still seems to beckon me! Where Kirtle waters gently wind, Took deadly aim at me : On fair Kirkconnel-Lee! Though Heaven forbids my wrath to swell, Ah, what avails it that, amain, I clove the assassin's head in twain; No resting-place for me: I see her spirit in the air I hear the shriek of wild despair, Oh! when I'm sleeping in my grave, Unite my love and me! Then from this world of doubts and sighs, Forget Kirkconnel-Lee !* Mustering of the Trades to Shoot for the Siller Gun. The lift was clear, the morn serene, The concluding verse of the old ballad is finer: For her sake that died for me. Also an earlier stanza: Curst be the heart that thought the thought, When James M'Noe began again To beat to arms, Rousing the heart o' man and wean Frae far and near the country lads And mony a beau and belle were there, For, lest they 'd, sleeping, spoil their hair, The gowks, like bairns before a fair, Wi' hats as black as ony raven, Fresh as the rose, their beards new shaven, Forth cam our Trades, some orra saving Fair fa' ilk canny, caidgy carle, But, blest in pantry, barn, and barrel, Hech, sirs! what crowds cam into town, Gentle and semple, mingling, crown At first, forenent ilk Deacon's hallan, Het-pints, weel spiced, to keep the saul in, Broiled kipper, cheese, and bread, and ham, O' whisky, gin frae Rotterdam, Whilk after, a' was fish that cam Oh! weel ken they wha lo'e their chappin, And even the thowless cock their tappin, The muster ower, the different bands Where, 'mid loud laughs and clapping hands, Reviews them, and their line expands But ne'er, for uniform or air, Was sic a group reviewed elsewhere! Wigs, queues, and clubs, and curly hair; Round hats and cockit! As to their guns-thae fell engines, Their route, and a' things else, made plain, 'Now, gentlemen! now, mind the motion, Wheel wi' your left hands to the ocean, Wi' that, the dinlin drums rebound, Trudge aff, while Echo's self is drowned BARONESS NAIRNE. CAROLINA OLIPHANT (1766-1845), of the family of Oliphant of Gask, and justly celebrated for her beauty, talents, and worth, wrote several lyrical pieces, which enjoy great popularity. These are, The Land o' the Leal, The Laird o' Cockpen, Caller Herrin', The Lass o' Gowrie, &c. In 1806 she was married to Major William Murray Nairne, who, in 1824, on the restoration of the attainted Scottish peerages, became Baron Nairne. Shortly before her death, this excellent and accomplished lady gave the Rev. Dr Chalmers a sum of £300, to assist in his schemes for the amelioration of the poorer classes in Edinburgh. The Land o' the Leal. I'm wearin' awa', John, Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John; To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, John; There's neither cauld nor care, John; The day's aye fair I' the land o' the leal. Our bonny bairn's there, John; To the land o' the leal. But sorrow's sel' wears past, John- In the land o' the leal. Sae dear's that joy was bought, John, To the land o' the leal. To the land o' the leal. Oh, haud ye leal and true, John! To the land o' the leal. In the land o' the leal. The Laird o' Cockpen. The Laird o' Cockpen he's proud and he's great, Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree. His wig was weel pouthered, and as gude as new; He took the gray mare, and rade cannilie, Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder-flower wine: And when she cam ben, he bowed fu' low, Dumfoundered he was, but nae sigh did he gie; And now that the Laird his exit had made, Next time that the Laird and the lady were seen, But as yet there's nae chickens appeared at Cock pen.* Caller Herrin'.† Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? They're bonny fish and halesome farin'; Wha 'll buy my caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth? When ye were sleepin' on your pillows, Dreamed ye aught o' our puir fellows, The last two verses were added by Miss Ferrier, authoress of Marriage. They are quite equal to the original. ↑ Caller, cool, fresh; herring new caught. Darkling as they faced the billows, Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? &c. Hauled through wind and rain. Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? &c. Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? &c. When the creel o' herrin' passes, Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'? &c. ROBERT TANNAHILL. ROBERT TANNAHILL, a lyrical poet of a superior order, whose songs rival all but the best of Burns's in popularity, was born in Paisley, on the 3d of June 1774. His education was limited, but he was a diligent reader and student. He was early sent to the loom, weaving being the staple trade of Paisley, and continued to follow his occupation in his native town until his twentysixth year, when, with one of his younger brothers, he removed to Lancashire. There he continued two years, when the declining state of his father's health induced him to return. He arrived in time to receive the dying blessing of his parent, and a short time afterwards we find him writing to a friend: 'My brother Hugh and I are all that now remain at home with our old mother, bending under age and frailty; and but seven years back, nine of us used to sit at dinner together.' Hugh married, and the poet was left alone with his widowed mother. În a poem, The Filial Vow, he says: 'Twas hers to guide me through life's early day, The filial piety of Tannahill is strikingly apparent from this effusion, but the inferiority of the lines to any of his Scottish songs shews how little at home he was in English. His mother outlived him thirteen years. Though Tannahill had occasionally composed verses from a very early age, it was not till after this time that he attained *Neil Gow (1727-1807), a distinguished Scottish violinist, famous for playing the livelier airs known as strathspeys and reels. to anything beyond mediocrity. Becoming acquainted with Mr R. A. Smith, a musical composer, the poet applied himself sedulously to lyrical composition, aided by the encouragement and the musical taste of his friend. Smith set some of his songs to original and appropriate airs, and in 1807 the poet ventured on the publication of a volume of poems and songs, of which the first impression, consisting of 900 copies, was Isold in a few weeks. It is related that in a solitary walk on one occasion, his musings were interrupted by the voice of a country-girl in an adjoining field singing by herself a song of his own We'll meet beside the dusky glen, on yon burn-side; and he used to say he was more pleased at this evidence of his popularity, than at any tribute which had ever been paid him. He afterwards contributed some songs to Mr George Thomson's Select Melodies, and exerted himself to procure Irish airs, of which he was very fond. Whilst delighting all classes of his countrymen with his native songs, the poet fell into a state of morbid despondency, aggravated by bodily weakness and a tendency to consumption. He had prepared a new edition of his poems for the press, and sent the manuscript to Mr Constable the publisher; but it was returned by that gentleman, in consequence of his having more new works on hand than he could undertake that season. This disappointment preyed on the spirits of the sensitive poet, and his melancholy became deep and habitual. He burned all his manuscripts, and sank into a state of mental derangement. Returning from a visit to Glasgow on the 17th of May 1810, the unhappy poet retired to rest; but 'suspicion having been excited, in about an hour afterwards it was discovered that he had stolen out unperceived. Search was made in every direction, and by the dawn of the morning, the coat of the poet was discovered lying at the side of the tunnel of a neighbouring brook, pointing out but too surely where his body was to be found.'* Tannahill was a modest and temperate man, devoted to his kindred and friends, and of unblemished purity and correctness of conduct. His lamentable death arose from no want or irregularity, but was solely caused by that morbid disease of the mind which had overthrown his reason. The poems of this ill-starred son of genius are greatly inferior to his songs. They have all a common-place artificial character. His lyrics, on the other hand, are rich and original, both in description and sentiment. His diction is copious and luxuriant, particularly in describing natural objects and the peculiar features of the Scottish landscape. His simplicity is natural and unaffected; and though he appears to have possessed a deeper sympathy with nature than with the workings of human feeling, or even the passion of love, he is often tender and pathetic. His Gloomy Winter's now Awa' is a beautiful concentration of tenderness and melody. The Braes o' Balquhither. Let us go, lassie, go, To the braes o' Balquhither, 'Mang the bonny Highland heather; * Memoir prefixed to Tannahill's Works. Glasgow, 1838. |