so kind as to lend us their assistance and assert that independence and that impartiality to which we so earnestly, and, we hope, not unjustly lay claim. Editor. REMARKS ON SOME OLD SCOTTISH SONGS. MANY old Scottish songs, altogether unknown, and which, to tell the truth, deserve to be so, are, nevertheless, pervaded by a simple and natural train of thought and expression, that may be turned to advantage by the man of taste who will take the trouble of examining them. Their simplicity, no doubt, often becomes silly and ridiculous; yet an author, by frequent perusal of them, may imperceptibly acquire a similar habit of thinking, without degenerating into similar absurdities. He, too, who wishes to attain accuracy in writing the language, ought to devote a proportion of his time to the study of these neglected productions. The words and phrases are there set down with exactly the same application as in common conversation; the idioms are not refined upon, and the allusions to customs and manners are true and immediate such as can be come at in no other way except by a long intercourse with the people. Their authors descend into the minutiae of character and ordinary life, which others of a higher class never dwell upon, but which form a very necessary part of knowledge to him who would excel in the nice tact of describing situations and persons, with the exactness of minute and appropriate distinction. Ancient songs of this description, never printed in a book of higher respectability than a halfpenny ballad, are still repeated and esteemed among the peasantry. From some of these I purpose to bring forward a few instances of vigorous and beautiful thoughts, which sparkle from their lurking-places like drops of dew upon a heap of black rubbish. "With Jamie came smiling Katie, He helped her over the stile, There is a peculiar grace in the feelings of the lover being thus called forth by the taking hold of his sweetheart's hand. Had he made the same declaration at any other time, the sentiment would not have been worth the quoting. The pettishness of a dowried dame is shown off to the life in this verse: "Meg grat through pure spite for a certain, A lass that was proud of her pelf, 'Cause Arthur had stolen her garten, And swore he would tie it himself." A young girl is represented as weeping over her lover, who has received a mortal stab from his rival in a duel; it is said of her that "She tore her yellow hair to staunch the wound;" and yet the rest of the song consists of that kind of common-place, relating to blood and broken hearts, which, in Scottish phrase, is humourously said to be calculated to "move the heart of a hurlbarrow." The following sketch of the feelings of a young woman in love with a rake, is lively and natural ; "Jockie would love, but he would not miss'd me; With mickle and weary ado I withstood him, Crying, denying, and sighing, I woo'd him." Her lover dies, as, by the bye, lovers have a trick of doing, and the gentlewoman, who possesses a wonderful facility of rhyming, hobbles herself forthwith into the most downright silliness : "To think how I crost him, tost him, lost him. Too late it is now to coin words to accost him: His destiny I will lament very mickle, And down my pale cheeks salt tears they shall trickle;" &c. In a Border ballad, a Scotchman is just upon the point of engaging four Englishmen, a circumstance of very common occurrence, if we may credit our own bards: Wat, the single hero, speaks : "Ye be four gallant lads the day, To bear me companie!" In these lines, a fine sentiment is expressed in such a way as to leave us in doubt whether the author himself was aware of its beauty. The description of the combat is in a style so striking, and so truly characteristic of the times to which it refers, that I give it entire. 66 Whether the author intended the substantial description in these two last lines as a counterpart to Virgil's epigrammatic conceit of a soldier's spouting forth his soul among his blood*, I cannot take it upon me to determine, as I have not the means of establishing the fact, that he understood the Mantuan. I shall only say that there have been worse hits. Wat, having disposed of the hindmost of his assailants in this summary manner, proceeds to wale the best weapon for himself, from those of his discomfited foes, remarking, in the mean time, with considerable justice, that, for any thing he knows, he may have half a dozen bruzlies of a like kind to encounter before getting They clashit their swords till the gleeds home-and mounts his steed with outflew, An' the hills rang to the din; They swackit their swords, an' their anger grew, I wat they didna lin. "Wat swappit the bauldest owre the An' cleft him to the bree, The foremost o' the three. "They clankit their swords-their hau An' reid bluid fell atween : Till the tears sprang till his een. swer: "It's a feud, guid sooth, ye sought yoursel, Sae bear it through as ye may ;- "He lap at his fae, an' wi' ae wrench great unconcern. "He rade up hill, he rade down dale, He croonit to the beat of his horse's hoofs, The perversity of scolding wives is an evil of very serious nature, of long standing, and universally allowed to be incurable; "For it's past the art of man, let them all do what they can, To make a scolding wife hold her tongue, tongue, tongue." If I were disposed, by the way, to discover fanciful beauties, I might remark, that the repetition of the obnoxious word " tongue" here is not without its effect. One of a similar kind in Shakespeare has been much admired : "If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife My wife!-my wife!-What wife ?—I have no wife Oh, insupportable! oh, heavy hour! Othello. The song which is the original, or which at least suggested to its author the idea of the "Weary Pund o' Tow," does not want humour, although it has been superseded by the imitation. It is now, I believe, generally, if not altogether unknown, and with a fragment of it I shall close these observations. "I coft my maiden an' my wife A hauf a pund o' tow, I think my wife will end her life, "I lookit to my yarn-nag, An' oh but it was howe! "Come lend to me some sarkin, Wi' a' the haste ye dow,, War in a boat thegither, An' there was nane to row, THE OLD HUSSAR. (An Anecdote, from the German of Fredrick Kind.) "YES, my worthy friends"(it is old Stein, the organist, clerk, and schoolmaster of R, who speaks-) 66 we can now enjoy ourselves in this quiet secluded spot, and, like the lark, in excelsis, chant our Creator's praises, without fear of interruption; but, in my earlier years, I have seen the time, when, even here, a firm reliance on Divine aid was necessary to enable us to contemplate, without dismay, the scene which each morning's sun presented to our view. On those heights stood the Austrians-the Prussians were stationed there, in the valley, and we had visits from both, almost daily. [Dec. Every thing was taken from us; neither horse, nor cow, nor goat, was spared; and even the morsel of bread was snatched from our children's mouths. Day after day, nothing was to be heard but the incessant roar of cannon, and the din of ammunitionwaggons, as they creaked through the village, accompanied by the oaths and blasphemy of their drivers. At length, when we learnt that two companies of the picked grenadiers were, by the advice of a skilful engineer, to be posted in this church-yard, for the purpose of covering the retreat of one of the armies, we gave ourselves up for lost. A fortunate chance averted danger from our poor dwellings, otherwise, in all probability, the school-house and parsonage, nay, the old church itself, would now have been a heap of ruins. "After one of those fearful nights -when going to bed was not to be thought of, as we hourly expected to hear the flames crackling about our roof—I had ventured up to chime the morning bell, had just peeped out to see what we might have to expect in the course of the day, and had folded my hands in pious thanksgiving, that all appeared quiet. Before I could replace the cap on my head, however, I heard the trampling of horses' feet, and presently an old Prussian black hussar galloped through the churchyard, and fastened his steed to my window-shutter. A visit at so early an hour-and from such a visitorboded no good; and, though I am on most occasions pretty firm, yet on this, I must confess I was terribly alarmed, and shook from head to foot. He did not give me time to honour, but, to my humble goodenquire the cause of the unlooked-for morning,' answered with a harsh ter-quick!' voice the church-key, schoolmas did not tend to allay my apprehen"This address, you may suppose, sions. It is true, our trifle of churchplate had been deposited in a place of security, but then there were the covering and tassels of the altar, and the vestry. I endeavoured to conceal some other things of value, still in the key, which was unfortunately in my hand: I tried excuses, prayers, and entreaties-but the old Hussar cast so expressive a glance, first at me, and then at the handle of his sabre, that, in order to prevent mischief to myself, I e'en marched before him, and opened the wicket. My wife, who, like another Sarah, had been listening behind the house-door, (and who, to do her justice, though more timorous before danger, is always more resolute in it than myself,) followed us of her own accord. "The old hussar strode hurriedly forward through the porch, without looking to one side or the other-passed the vestry and altar-cloth—and ascended as quickly as his age permitted him the steps which led to the Quire. "Here he seated himself on a bench to recover breath, and then called out in the same peremptory tone as before Open the organa hymn-book here! This unexpected demand operated on me like magic, and I felt all at once as if a pressure had been removed from my throat. I immediately complied with his desire, and beckoned to my wife to blow the instrument. The hussar then looked up a particular page of the book, and gave out, with much emphasis, the line How beauteous shines the morning star *.- Play that,' said he but mind your hand, schoolmaster!" "I was now in my element. Whether it was that the idea of escape from impending evil animated me, and imparted to my touch more than usual expression, I know not-but certainly I never played better in my life. After the prelude, the hussar struck in with a deep bass voice; I, and Susanna behind the organ, also joined, and my whole soul expanded in gratitude to the Giver of all good. "When the hymn was finished, I looked boldly towards my hearer. His hands were still devoutly clasped together, and a tear dropt on them from his weather-beaten cheek. As I stept up to him, he shook me affectionately by the hand: Thank ye thank ye, comrade,' said he, drawing his sleeve hastily across his eyes; ⚫ bring out the poors' box.' My former suspicion, that plunder was his object, had now entirely vanished; I Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern, a well-known hymn, said to have been composed by Luther. therefore produced the box without hesitation, and the old hussar threw a half-gulden* into it. 'Let us share what I have remaining,' added he then, as he pulled out other two half-guldens, and forced me to accept one of them; there is no blood on that; take it for your trouble.' On this he left the church, and we accompanied him. 66 My wife and I were greatly af fected at the unusual scene; and when we reached the church-yard; I could not refrain from asking our strange guest how he came to think of performing his morning devotions here? 'You shall hear all about it, good people,' he answered; only no preaching afterwards, schoolmaster !—Last evening it was found necessary to place, by some means or other, a watch on a position which we had lost, in order to observe from it the motions of the enemy at a certain point. We all knew what ticklish work this was-our captain asked for volunteers.-No one shewed any inclination for the service.-At last I rode out, and of course my three lads could not suffer their old father to go alone!-It is of no consequence to you, schoolmaster, to know how we managed matters;-enough, we got through, and remained the whole night at our post.-Left and right it blazed about us famously!-We saw the evening's patroles continually passing on all sides, and sometimes quite close to us.-Not on my own account, (-for how long will my old worn-out carcase be good for any thing?-) but for my sons' sake only did I once whisper in the dark night, Lord, deliver us!—and I had scarcely said the words, when it began to dawn, and the morning star twinkled in the sky. How beauteous shines the morning star!' the strain of my boyish days, came into my thoughts at the moment, and the recollections of the way in which my time had since been spent, weighed on my breast like lead. I began to reckon how many years it was since I had been in a church, and I vowed to God, that if I escaped this once, my first care should be to visit one with A Prussian coin about the value of an English sixpence. out delay. So here I am, and you may guess whether I have had reason to sing with thankfulness, Thou dost uphold me by thy might, • Throughout the watches of the night.' -my sons-wild, thoughtless fellows! (and I, old fool that I am, was ashamed to tell them my intention) have gone to the public house in the village, where I must now join them, lest they begin to suspect what I have been about.Once more, then, comrade, thanks.Zooks! how that organ of yours strikes to one's heart!-Now I am sure I am a good Christian at bottom, and should I make my last charge to-day or to-morrow, my parole for heaven shall be, How beauteous shines the morning star!' "With these words he rode off, and I never saw him more." They bid farewell, and far they go, The leader comes, and in his eye But still, one softer thought his mind To lie unnumber'd 'midst the dead, His mute companions, earth his bed, His canopy the sky. And for himself he would have joy'd, In honour's cause, so to have died; For laurel's form'd by glory's breath, Bloom fairest in the field of death. ૬. Upon a peaceful lovely scene But when that moon again shall rise, Groans of despair, and dying cries, The hosts have met-the battle's fought, Thousands have found the death they sought; What needs it to relate the strife, Where is their leader? none can tell, 6. Upon its hinges creak'd the door It was a dark and noisome place, Had linger'd out in misery 7. The twinkling lamp, that threw its light |