Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are To join the dim choir of the bards who have been; gleaming; In the proudly-arch'd chapel the banners are beaming, But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature, To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb, When, wilder'd, he drops from some cliff huge in stature, And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Merlin the Old, VI. And adieu, Dinas Emlinn! still green be thy shades, The Norman Horse-shoe. 1806. The Dying Bard.1 1806. AIR-Daffydz Gangwen. The Welsh tradition bears, that a Bard, on his deathbed, demanded his harp, and played the air to which these verses are adapted; requesting that it might be performed at his funeral. I. DINAS EMLINN, lament; for the moment is nigh, II. In spring and in autumn thy glories of shade III. Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march in their pride, 1 This and the following were written for Mr. George Thomson's Welsh Airs, and are contained in his Select Melodies, vol. i. AIR-The War-Song of the Men of Glamorgan. The Welsh, inhabiting a mountainous country, and possessing only an inferior breed of horses, were usually unable to encounter the shock of the Anglo-Norman cavalry. Occasionally, however, they were successful in repelling the invaders; and the following verses are supposed to celebrate a defeat of CLARE, Earl of Striguil and Pembroke, and of NEVILLE, Baron of Chepstow, Lords-Marchers of Monmouthshire. Rymny is a stream which divides the counties of Monmouth and Glamorgan: Caerphili, the scene of the supposed battle, is a vale upon its banks, dignified by the ruins of a very ancient castle. I. RED glows the forge in Striguil's bounds, II. From Chepstow's towers, ere dawn of morn, For lo, when through the vapours dank, Morn shone on Ettrick fair, A corpse amid the alders rank, The Maid of Neidpath. 1806. There is a tradition in Tweeddale, that, when Neidpath Castle, near Peebles, was inhabited by the Earls of March, a mutual passion subsisted between a daughter of that noble family, and a son of the Laird of Tushielaw, in Ettrick Forest. As the alliance was thought unsuitable by her parents, the young man went abroad. During his absence, the lady fell into a consumption; and at length, as the only means of saviny her life, her father consented that her lover should be recalled. On the day when he was expected to pass through Peebles, on the road to Tushielaw, the young lady, though much exhausted, caused herself to be carried to the balcony of a house in Peebles, belonging to the family, that she might see him as he rode past. Her anxiety and eager-O ness gave such force to her organs, that she is said to have distinguished his horse's footsteps at an incredible distance. But Tushielaw, unprepared for the change in her appearance, and not expecting to see her in that place, rode on without recognizing her, or even slackening his pace. The lady was unable to support the shock; and, after a short struggle, died in the arms of her attendants. There is an incident similar to this traditional tale in Count Hamilton's "Fleur d'Epine." O LOVERS' eyes are sharp to see, Can lend an hour of cheering. And slow decay from mourning, Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower, To watch her love's returning. All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, Till through her wasted hand, at night, Across her cheek were flying; Her maidens thought her dying. Yet keenest powers to see and hear, Seem'd in her frame residing; Before the watch-dog prick'd his ear, She heard her lover's riding; Ere scarce a distant form was ken'd, He came he pass'd-an heedless gaze, Wandering Willie. 1806. ALL joy was bereft me the day that you left me, Far o'er the wave hast thou follow'd thy fortune, When the sky it was mirk, and the winds they were wailing, I sat on the beach wi' the tear in my ee, And thought o' the bark where my Willie was sailing, And wish'd that the tempest could a' blaw on me. Now that thy gallant ship rides at her mooring, When the lights they did blaze, and the guns they did rattle, And blithe was each heart for the great victory, But now shalt thou tell, while I eagerly listen, For sweet after danger 's the tale of the war. And oh, how we doubt when there's distance 'tween lovers, When there's naething to speak to the heart thro' the ee; How often the kindest and warmest prove rovers, And the love of the faithfullest ebbs like the sea. With rapture you'll drink to the toast that I give: Till, at times-could I help it ?—I pined and I pon- MELVILLE for ever, and long may he live! If love could change notes like the bird on the What were the Whigs doing, when boldly pursuing, Has humbled the pride of France, Holland, and Low lies the pilot that weather'd the storm! No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou And pray, don't you mind when the Blues first wero leave me, I never will part with my Willie again. Health to Lord Melville.1 1806. AIR-Carrickfergus. raising, And we scarcely could think the house safe o'er our When villains and coxcombs, French politics praising, Stepp'd forth our old Statesmen example to give. Drink the Blue grenadier Here's to old HARRY, and long may he live! They would turn us adrift; though rely, sir, upon it- Each loyal Volunteer, long may he live! "The impeachment of Lord Melville was among the first measures of the new (Whig) Government; and personal affection and gratitude graced as well as heightened the zeal with which Scott watched the issue of this, in his eyes, vindictive proceeding; but, Is though the ex-minister's ultimate acquittal was, as to all the charges involving his personal honour, complete, it must now be allowed that the investigation brought out many circumstances by no means creditable to his discretion; and the rejoicings of his friends ought not, therefore, to have been scornfully jubilant. Such they were, however—at least in Edinburgh; and Scott took his share in them by inditing a song, which was sung by James Ballantyne, and received with clamorous applauses, at a public dinner given in honour of the event, on the 27th of June 1806.”—Life, vol. ii., P. The thanks that his country to valour can give: 322. SINCE here we are set in array round the table, Five hundred good fellows well met in a hall, 1 Published on a broadside, and reprinted in the Life of Scott, 1837. 'Tis not us alone, boys-the Army and Navy Come, boys, Drink it off merrily, SIR DAVID and POPHAM, and long may they live! And then our revenue-Lord knows how they view'd it, And the pig-iron duty a shame to a pig. In vain is their vaunting, Too surely there's wanting |