Hae ye seen the bird, fast fleein', Drap, when pierced by death mair fleet? After three lang years' affliction, Tells him a' her sad-sad sufferings ! Wi' three bairns, frae door to door. How she served, and toil'd, and fever'd, How she wander'd round the county Gae her meat, and claise, and siller, Willie, hearkening, wiped his een aye; But say, wha's this angel, Jeannie?" "Wha," quo' Jeannie, "but Buccleuch ?* * The Duchess of Buccleuch, the unwearied patroness and supporter of the afflicted and the poor. "Here, supported, cheer'd, and cherish'd, Dried my tears, and tint despair : "Sometimes sewin', sometimes spinnin', Brings yon angel's helping pound." 'Eight pounds mair," cried Willie, fondly— 66 'Eight pounds mair will do nae harm ; "There, ance mair, to thrive by pleughin', Idle waste and drucken ruin, War, and a' its murdering joys!" Thrice he kiss'd his lang-lost treasure- Aiken-Drum. Commonly printed under the title of "The Brownie of Blednoch," the ballad of "Aiken-drum" has wakened the drowsy wits of many a rural Scot. The author, William Nicholson, was a native of the parish of Borgue, in Galloway, and was born in August, 1782. In his youth weak eyesight prevented his progress at school, and afterwards. unfitted him for the occupations of shepherd or ploughman. Consequently he began life as a pedlar, and wandered up and down in his native district for thirty years singing his. own songs, and reciting his own tales and ballads. Under the title of "Tales in Verse, and Miscellaneous Poems, descriptive of Rural Life and Manners," he issued in 1814 a collection of his rhymed wares, by which it has been said he cleared the handsome sum of 100. In 1828 a second edition of his poems appeared, with a memoir of the author from the pen of Mr. Macdiarmid of Dumfries. Latterly Nicholson fell into sadly dissipated habits, and became a wandering gaberlunzie. He died at Kildarroch, in Borgue, in May 1849. "We would rather have written these lines," said the late Dr. John Brown, "than any amount of Aurora Leighs, Festuses, or such like, with all their mighty somethingness,' as Mr. Bailey would say. For they, are they not the 'native woodnotes wild' of one of nature's darlings? Here is the indescribable, inestimable, unmistakable impress of genius. Chaucer, had he been a Galloway man, might have written it, only he would have been more garrulous, and less compact and stern. It is like Tam o' Shanter' in its living union of the comic, the pathetic, and the terrible. Shrewdness, tenderness, imagination, fancy, humour, word-music, dramatic power, even wit-all are here. I have often read it aloud to children, and it is worth anyone's while to do it. You will find them repeating all over the house for days such lines as take their heart and tongue." There cam' a strange wight to our town en', An' the fient a body did him ken; He tirled na lang, but he glided ben, His face did glow like the glow o' the west, I trow the bauldest stood aback, Wi' a gape an' a glower till their lugs did crack, "Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum ?" O! had ye seen the bairns' fright As they stared at the wild and unearthly wight : "Sauf us!" quoth Jock, "d'ye see sic een?" Cries Kate, "There's a hole where a nose should ha' been: An' the mouth's like a gash that a horn had ri’en ; The black dog growlin' cowered his tail, His matted head on his breast did rest, Round his hairy form there was naething seen, An' his knotted knees played aye knoit between- On his wauchie airms three claws did meet, To look at Aiken-drum. But he drew a score, himsel' did sain, But the cantie auld wife cam' till her breath, An' she thocht the Bible might ward aff scaith, But it feared na Aiken-drum. "His presence protect us!" quoth the auld gudeman; "I lived in a land whare we saw nae sky, "I'll shiel a' your sheep i' the mornin' sune, "I'll lowp the linn when ye canna wade, "To wear the tod frae the flock on the fell, "I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond, nor mark; I use nae beddin', shoon, nor sark; But a cogfu' o' brose 'tween the light an' the dark, Is the wage o' Aiken-drum." Quoth the wily auld wife, "The thing speaks weel ; 3 |