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That he was, at the same time, very laudably employed in bringing his feelings into unison with his circumstances, the following lines addressed to a Brither pedlar, to which many like passages might be added, will de. monstrate,
Lang may thou, aye right snug an' dry,
Frae Barns be kept aback,
An' rain seeps through the thack.
Whan hunger wrings thy painches,
O’scons, that day. Unfortunately for his personal comfort, but fortunately for his fame, he seems not to have succeeded. Disappointment followed upon disappointment, which drove him at last to seek shelter in the New World, where, though fortune did not flow upon him, he yet found a pursuit which had sufficient attractions to ensure his unremitted attention, and fully to develope all the qualities of his mighty mind. His Ornithology has secured him a place among the first order of Naturalists, and, while the language in which it is written endures, Watty and Meg will secure him a station beside the first of Scottish Poets.
Notwithstanding the ardour of his studies, after he went to America, he still continued to make poetry an occasional amusement, and several of his pieces, were, from time to time, given to the public. Of these the reader is presented with the following as a specimen.
THE AMERICAN BLUE BIRD.
“ When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more,
The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,
When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing,
O then comes the Blue-bird, the Herald of Spring,
Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to ring;
The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring,
O then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair !
The blue-bird will chant from his box such an air,
He flits thro' the orchard, he visits each tree,
He snaps up destroyers wherever they be,
He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours;
His Song and his Services freely are ours,
The ploughman is pleas'd when he gleans in his train, Now searching the furrows-10w mounting to cheer him;
The gard'ner delights in his sweet simple strain, And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him;
The slow lingåring schoolboys forget they'll be chide, While gazing intent as he warbles before 'em
In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red, That each little loiterer seems to adore him.
When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er, And Autumn slow enters so silent and sallow,
And millions of warblers, that charm'd us before, Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking swallow;
The Blue-bird, forsaken, yet true to his home, Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow,
Till forc'd by the horrors of winter to roam, He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow.
While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm, The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven,
Or love's native music have influence to charm, Or sympathy's glow to our feelings are given,
Still dear to each bosom the Blue-bird shall be; His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure;
For, thro' bleakest storms, if a calm he but see, He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure!”
ISABEL.- ORIGINAL. As thus we wander, hand in hand, Along the pebble-cover'd strand; O how, my dear, should we improve, The swiftly flying hour of love. 'Twas by the altar's sacred rays, I first beheld thy beauty's blaze; Upon that brow of light they fellI mark'd, and lov'd thee Isabel. Timid as doe, thy gentle eye Was meekly rais’d in ecstacy, And from thy peerless bosom rose, The sigh that pled for souls' reposeI heard the smother'd strain ascend, I saw thee lowly,-earnest bend; And ever since, believe me, maid, Have thought and fancy with thee stay'd. O while the night around me lowers, While morning's balm each sense o'erpowers,
While the rude tempest sweeps the plain,
BALLAD. For the pleasure afforded by this and the following very beautiful little
pieces, my readers are indebted to Mr. A. Laing, a gentleman with whom many of them, I doubt not, are already familiar, from his vari.
ous and excellent Songs inserted in The Harp of Caledonia.
They ken i' the e'enin's I'm aften frae hame;
JEAN OF ABERDEEN.
Ye've seen the blooming rosy brier,
On stately Dee's wild woody knowes;
In streamy Don's gay broomy howes;
Amang their banks an' braes, sae green-
Frae lovely Jean of Aberdeen.
When morning gilds the welkin high;
When e'ening steals alang the sky;
When we're amang the braes alane
Of lovely Jean of Aberdeen,
Around the airy Bennachie;
While mem'ry lifts her melting e'e,
An' hope unfolds her fairy scene,
To lovely Jean of Aberdeen.
Piper o' the clachan,
Sairly was he pechan;
An' whaisled a' forfoughen.
Cheerie kyth'd the bodie-
An' leugh to auntie Madie;
O' ilka lass and laddie.”
Usquabae was plenty;
Tho'shakin' hands wi' ninety; * Adam Glen, was long a favourite in every farmer's ha', village, and fair, in the west of Angus-shire. He was an excellent performer on the bagpipe, a faithful reciter of our ancient Ballads, and every way an ec. centric character. Io the memorable year of Mar's rebellion, he joined the battalion of his county on its march to Sheriffmuir; and
“ When Angus and Fifemen
Ran for their life, man," he remained behind winding his warlike instrument in the front and fire of the enemy-and fell on the field of battle, November the 13th, 1715, in the ninetieth year of his age. A few months prior to his death, he espoused his eighth wife, a maiden lady of forty-five, on which circumstance the Ballad is founded. When rallied on the number of his wives, he replied, in his own peculiar way, " Aç kist comin' in is wirth twa saun out."