The sweets o' the simmer invite us to wander Amang the wild flowers, as they deck the green lea, An' by the clear burnies that sweetly meander, To charm us, as hameward they rin to the sea; The nestlin's are fain the saft wing to be tryin', As fondly the dam the adventure is eyein', An' teachin' her notes, while wi' food she 's supplyin'

Her tender young offspring, like Maggie an' me.

The corn in full ear, is now promisin' plenty, The red cl.u.s.terin' row'ns bend the witch-scarrin' tree, While lapt in its leaves lies the strawberry dainty, As shy to receive the embrace o' the bee.

Then hope, come alang, an' our steps will be pleasant, The future, by thee, is made almost the present; Thou frien' o' the prince an' thou frien' o' the peasant, Thou lang hast befriended my Maggie an' me.

Ere life was in bloom we had love in our glances, An' aft I had mine o' her bonnie blue e'e, We needit nae art to engage our young fancies, 'Twas done ere we kent, an' we own't it wi' glee.

Now pleased, an' aye wishin' to please ane anither, We 've pa.s.s'd twenty years since we buckled thegither, An' ten bonnie bairns, lispin' faither an' mither, Hae toddled fu' fain atween Maggie an' me.

SIT DOWN, MY CRONIE.[116]

Come sit down, my cronie, an' gie me your crack, Let the win' tak the cares o' this life on its back, Our hearts to despondency we ne'er will submit, We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet; An' sae will we yet, an' sae will we yet, We 've aye been provided for, an' sae will we yet.

Let 's ca' for a tankar' o' nappy brown ale, It will comfort our hearts an' enliven our tale, We 'll aye be the merrier the langer that we sit, We 've drunk wi' ither mony a time, an' sae will we yet, An' sae will we yet, &c.

Sae rax me your mill, an' my nose I will prime, Let mirth an' sweet innocence employ a' our time; Nae quarr'lin' nor fightin' we here will permit, We 've parted aye in unity, an' sae will we yet, An' sae will we yet, &c.

[116] The last stanza of this song has, on account of its Baccha.n.a.lian tendency, been omitted.

BRAES O' BEDLAY.[117]

AIR--_"Hills o' Glenorchy."_

When I think on the sweet smiles o' my la.s.sie, My cares flee awa' like a thief frae the day; My heart loups licht, an' I join in a sang Amang the sweet birds on the braes o' Bedlay.

How sweet the embrace, yet how honest the wishes, When luve fa's a-wooin', an' modesty blushes, Whaur Mary an' I meet amang the green bushes That screen us sae weel, on the braes o' Bedlay.

There 's nane sae trig or sae fair as my la.s.sie, An' mony a wooer she answers wi' "Nay,"

Wha fain wad hae her to lea' me alane, An' meet me nae mair on the braes o' Bedlay.

I fearna, I carena, their braggin' o' siller, Nor a' the fine things they can think on to tell her, Nae vauntin' can buy her, nae threatnin' can sell her, It 's luve leads her out to the braes o' Bedlay.

We 'll gang by the links o' the wild rowin' burnie, Whaur aft in my mornin' o' life I did stray, Whaur luve was invited and cares were beguiled By Mary an' me, on the braes o' Bedlay.

Sae luvin', sae movin', I 'll tell her my story, Unmixt wi' the deeds o' ambition for glory, Whaur wide spreadin' hawthorns, sae ancient and h.o.a.ry, Enrich the sweet breeze on the braes o' Bedlay.

[117] The braes of Bedlay are in the neighbourhood of Chryston, about seven miles north of Glasgow.

JESSIE.

AIR--_"Hae ye seen in the calm dewy mornin'."_

Hae ye been in the North, bonnie la.s.sie, Whaur Glaizert rins pure frae the fell, Whaur the straight stately beech staun's sae gaucy, An' luve lilts his tale through the dell?

O! then ye maun ken o' my Jessie, Sae blythesome, sae bonnie an' braw; The la.s.sies hae doubts about Jessie, Her charms steal their luvers awa'.

I can see ye 're fu' handsome an' winnin', Your cleedin 's fu' costly an' clean, Your wooers are aften complainin'

O' wounds frae your bonnie blue e'en.

I could lean me wi' pleasure beside thee, Ae kiss o' thy mou' is a feast; May luve wi' his blessins abide thee, For Jessie 's the queen o' my breast.

I maun gang an' get hame, my sweet Jessie, For fear some young laird o' degree May come roun' on his fine sleekit bawsy, An' ding a' my prospects agee.

There 's naething like gowd to the miser, There 's naething like light to the e'e, But they canna gie me ony pleasure, If Jessie prove faithless to me.

Let us meet on the border, my Jessie, Whaur Kelvin links bonnily bye, Though my words may be scant to address ye, My heart will be loupin' wi' joy.

If ance I were wedded to Jessie, An' that may be ere it be lang, I 'll can brag o' the bonniest la.s.sie That ere was the theme o' a sang.

WILLIAM LAIDLAW.

As the confidential friend, factor, and amanuensis of Sir Walter Scott, William Laidlaw has a claim to remembrance; the authorship of "Lucy's Flittin'" ent.i.tles him to rank among the minstrels of his country. His ancestors on the father's side were, for a course of centuries, substantial farmers in Tweedside, and his father, James Laidlaw, with his wife, Catherine Ballantyne, rented from the Earl of Traquair the pastoral farm of Blackhouse, in Yarrow. William, the eldest of a family of three sons, was born in November 1780. His education was latterly conducted at the Grammar School of Peebles. James Hogg kept sheep on his father's farm, and a strong inclination for ballad-poetry led young Laidlaw to cultivate his society. They became inseparable friends--the Shepherd guiding the fancy of the youth, who, on the other hand, encouraged the Shepherd to persevere in ballad-making and poetry.

In the summer of 1801, Laidlaw formed the acquaintance of Sir Walter Scott. In quest of materials for the third volume of the "Border Minstrelsy," Scott made an excursion into the vales of Ettrick and Yarrow; he was directed to Blackhouse by Leyden, who had been informed of young Laidlaw's zeal for the ancient ballad. The visit was an eventful one: Scott found in Laidlaw an intelligent friend and his future steward, and through his means formed, on the same day, the acquaintance of the Ettrick Shepherd. The ballad of "Auld Maitland," in the third volume of the "Minstrelsy," was furnished by Laidlaw; he recovered it from the recitation of "Will of Phawhope," the maternal uncle of the Shepherd. A correspondence with Scott speedily ripened into friendship; the great poet rapidly pa.s.sing the epistolary forms of "Sir," and "Dear Sir," into "Dear Mr Laidlaw," and ultimately into "Dear Willie,"--a familiarity of address which he only used as expressive of affection. Struck with his originality and the extent of his acquirements, Scott earnestly recommended him to select a different profession from the simple art of his fathers, especially suggesting the study of medicine. But Laidlaw deemed himself too ripe in years to think of change; he took a farm at Traquair, and subsequently removed to a larger farm at Liberton, near Edinburgh.

The sudden fall in the price of grain at the close of the war, which so severely affected many tenant-farmers, pressed heavily on Laidlaw, and compelled him to abandon his lease. He now accepted the offer of Sir Walter to become steward at Abbotsford, and, accordingly, removed his family in 1817 to Kaeside, a cottage on the estate comfortably fitted up for their reception. Through Scott's recommendation, he was employed to prepare the chronicle of events and publications for the _Edinburgh Annual Register_; and for a short period he furnished a similar record to _Blackwood's Magazine_. He did not persevere in literary labours, his time becoming wholly occupied in superintending improvements at Abbotsford. When Sir Walter was in the country, he was privileged with his daily intercourse, and was uniformly invited to meet those literary characters who visited the mansion. When official duties detained Scott in the capital, Laidlaw was his confidential correspondent. Sir Walter early communicated to him the unfortunate event of his commercial embarra.s.sments, in a letter honourable to his heart. After feelingly expressing his apprehension lest his misfortunes should result in depriving his correspondent of the factorship, Sir Walter proceeds in his letter: "You never flattered my prosperity, and in my adversity it is not the least painful consideration that I cannot any longer be useful to you. But Kaeside, I hope, will still be your residence, and I will have the advantage of your company and advice, and probably your services as amanuensis. Observe, I am not in indigence, though no longer in affluence; and if I am to exert myself in the common behalf, I must have honourable and easy means of life, although it will be my inclination to observe the most strict privacy, the better to save expense, and also time. I do not dislike the path which lies before me.

I have seen all that society can shew, and enjoyed all that wealth can give me, and I am satisfied much is vanity, if not vexation of spirit."

Laidlaw was too conscientious to remain at Abbotsford, to be a burden on his ill.u.s.trious friend; he removed to his native district, and for three years employed himself in a variety of occupations till 1830, when the promise of brighter days to his benefactor warranted his return. Scott had felt his departure severely, characterising it as "a most melancholy blank," and his return was hailed with corresponding joy. He was now chiefly employed as Sir Walter's amanuensis. During his last illness, Laidlaw was constant in his attendance, and his presence was a source of peculiar pleasure to the distinguished sufferer. After the funeral, Sir Walter's eldest son and his lady presented him with a brooch, their marriage gift to their revered father, which he wore at the time of his decease; it was afterwards worn by his affectionate steward to the close of his life. The death of Scott took place on the 21st of September 1832, and shortly thereafter Laidlaw bade adieu to Abbotsford. He was appointed factor on the Ross-shire property of Mrs Stewart Mackenzie of Seaforth,--a situation which he subsequently exchanged for the factorship of Sir Charles Lockhart Ross of Balnagowan, in the same county. Compelled to resign the latter appointment from impaired health, he ultimately took up his residence with his brother, Mr James Laidlaw, tenant at Contin, near Dingwall, in whose house he expired on the 18th of May 1845, having attained his sixty-fifth year. At an early age he espoused his cousin, Miss Ballantyne, by whom he had a numerous family.

His remains were interred in the churchyard of Contin, a sequestered spot under the shade of the elevated Tor-Achilty, amidst the most interesting Highland scenery.

A man of superior shrewdness, and well acquainted with literature and rural affairs, Laidlaw was especially devoted to speculations in science. He was an amateur physician, a student of botany and entomology, and a considerable geologist. He prepared a statistical account of Innerleithen, wrote a geological description of Selkirkshire, and contributed several articles to the "Edinburgh Encyclopedia." In youth, he was an enthusiast in ballad-lore; and he was especially expert in filling up blanks in the compositions of the elder minstrels. His original metrical productions are limited to those which appear in the present work. "Lucy's Flittin'" is his masterpiece; we know not a more exquisitely touching ballad in the language, with the single exception of "Robin Gray." Laidlaw was a devoted friend, and a most intelligent companion; he spoke the provincial vernacular, but his manners were polished and pleasing. He was somewhat under the middle height, but was well formed and slightly athletic, and his fresh-coloured complexion beamed a generous benignity.

LUCY'S FLITTIN'.[118]

AIR--_"Paddy O'Rafferty."_

'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk tree was fa'in', And Martinmas dowie had wind up the year, That Lucy row'd up her wee kist wi' her a' in 't, And left her auld maister and neebours sae dear.

For Lucy had served in "The Glen" a' the simmer; She cam there afore the flower bloom'd on the pea; An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her, Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her e'e.

She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stan'in', Richt sair was his kind heart the flittin' to see.

Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! quo' Jamie, and ran in, The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae his e'e.

As down the burnside she gaed slaw wi' the flittin', Fare-ye-weel, Lucy! was ilka bird's sang.