But weel do I like my young Geordie, The mouse is a merry beast, And the moudiwort wants the een: The mucking o' Geordie's byre, Great Hercules, and Samson too, Stout gates of brass and well-built walls BIDE YE YET. Here the remarks by Burns on the first volume of the Musical Museum" There is a beautiful song to this tune, conclude. The second volume conbeginningtained the following preface from his hand : "Alas! my son, you little know," "In the first volume of this work, two which is the composition of Miss Jenny or three airs, not of Scots composition, Graham, of Dumfries. [ALAS! my son, you little know The sorrows that from wedlock flow; Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet, Your hopes are high, your wisdom small, Sometimes the rock, sometimes the reel, When I, like you, was young and free, Sae bide ye yet, &c. have been inadvertently inserted; which, whatever excellence they may have, was improper, as the collection is solely to be the music of our own country. The songs contained in this volume, both music and poetry, are all of them the work of Scotsmen. Wherever the old words could be recovered, they have been preferred; both as suiting better the genius of the tunes, and to preserve the productions of those earlier sons of the Scottish Muses, some of whose names deserved a better fate than has befallen them,'buried 'midst the wreck of things which were.' Of our more modern songs, the Editor has inserted the authors' names as far as he can ascertain them; and, as that was neglected in the first volume, it is annexed here. If he have made any mistakes in this affair, which he possibly may, he will be very grateful at being set right. "Ignorance and prejudice may perhaps affect to sneer at the simplicity of the poetry or music of some of these poems; but their having been for ages the favourites of Nature's judges-the common people-was to the Editor a sufficient test of their merit. "EDINBURGH, March 1, 1788." He made sic haste, sae spurred his beast, TRANENT-MUIR. "Tranent-Muir" was composed by a Mr. Skirving, a very worthy, respectable farmer near Haddington. I have heard the anecdote often, that Lieut. Smith, whom he mentions in the ninth stanza, came to Haddington after the publication of the song, and sent a challenge to Skirving to meet him at Haddington, and answer for the unworthy manner in which he had noticed him in his song. "Gang awa' back," said the honest farmer, "and tell Mr. Smith that I ha'e nae leisure to come to Haddington; but tell him to come here, and I'll tak' a look o' him, and if he think I'm fit to fecht him, I'll fecht him; and if no, I'll do as he did-I 'll rin awa'." Stanza ninth, as well as tenth, to which the anecdote refers, shows that the anger of the Lieutenant was anything but unreasonable. [AND Major Bowle, that worthy soul, Was brought down to the ground, man; His horse being shot, it was his lot For to get mony a wound, man: Lieutenant Smith, of Irish birth, Frae whom he called for aid, man, Being full of dread, lap o'er his head, And wadna be gainsaid, man! POLWART, ON THE GREEN. The author of "Polwart, on the Green," is Captain John Drummond M'Gregor, of the family of Bochaldie. [AT Polwart, on the Green, If you'll meet me the morn, Where lasses do convene To dance about the thorn, A kindly welcome ye shall meet Frae her wha likes to view A lover and a lad completeThe lad and lover you. Let dorty dames say na, As lang as e'er they please, Seem caulder than the snaw, While inwardly they bleeze. But I will frankly shaw my mind, And yield my heart to thee; Be ever to the captive kind That langs na to be free. At Polwart, on the Green, Amang the new-mown hay, With sangs and dancing keen, We'll pass the heartsome day. At night, if beds be o'er thrang laid, And thou be twined of thine, Thou shalt be welcome, my dear lad, To take a part of mine.] STREPIION AND LYDIA. The following account of this song I had from Dr. Blacklock :-The "Strephon and Lydia" mentioned in the song were perhaps the loveliest couple of their time. The gentleman was commonly known by the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was the "Gentle Jean," celebrated somewhere in Hamilton of Bangour's poems. Having frequently met at public places, they had formed a reciprocal attachment, which their friends thought dangerous, as their resources were by no means adequate to their tastes and habits of life. To elude the bad consequences of such a connection, Strephon was sent abroad with a commission, and perished in Admiral Vernon's expedition to Carthagena. The author of the song was William Wallace, Esq., of Cairnhill, in Ayrshire. [ALL lonely on the sultry beach No hand the cordial draught to reach, Far distant from the mournful scene, "But what, if dancing on the green, "Kind sir, for your courtesie, When ye gae to the Cross, then, Buy me a pacing horse, then." "Pace upo' your spinning-wheel, Janet, Janet; Pace upo' your spinning-wheel, My jo, Janet."] LOVE IS THE CAUSE OF MY MOURNING. The words are by a Mr. R. Scott, from the town or neighbourhood of Biggar. [By a murmuring stream a fair shepherdess lay: Be so kind, O ye nymphs! I oft heard her say, Tell Strephon I die, if he passes this way, And love is the cause of my mourning. False shepherds that tell me of beauty and charms, Deceive me, for Strephon's cold heart never warms; Yet bring me this Strephon, I'll die in his arms;- O Strephon! the cause of my mourning. But first, said she, let me go Down to the shades below, Ere ye let Strephon know That I have loved him so: Then on my pale cheek no blushes will show That love is the cause of my mourning. Her eyes were scarce closed, when Strephon came by, He thought she'd been sleeping, and softly drew nigh; But finding her breathless, "O heavens!" did he cry, "Ah, Chloris! the cause of my mourning. Restore me ray Chloris, ye nymphs use your art," They sighing replied, ""T was yourself shot the dart, That wounded the tender young shepherdess' heart, And killed the poor Chloris with mourning." "Ah! then, is Chloris dead, "I'll follow thee, chaste maid, Then on her cold snowy breast leaning his head, FIFE, AND ALL THE LANDS ABOUT IT. This song is Dr. Blacklock's. He, as well as I, often gave Johnson verses, trifling enough, perhaps, but they served as a vehicle to the music. [ALLAN, by his grief excited, Thus addressed the scornful fair:"Fife and all the lands about it, Undesiring I can see ; Joy may crown my days without it,- "Must I then for ever languish, Still complaining, still endure? "Would thy charms improve their power? Timely think, relentless maid; Beauty is a short-lived flower, Destined but to bloom and fade! Let that Heaven, whose kind impression All thy lovely features show, Melt thy soul to soft compassion For a suffering lover's woe."] -0 WERE NA MY HEART LIGHT I WAD DIE. Lord Hailes, in the notes to his collection of ancient Scottish poems, says that this song was the composition of Lady Grisel Baillie, daughter of the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie, of Jerviswood. [THERE was ance a May, and she lo'ed na men. F F |