The proud oak that built thee Was nursed in the dew, Where my gentle one dwells, And stately it grew.

I hew'd its beauty down; Now it swims on the sea, And wafts spice and perfume, My fair one, to thee.

Oh, sweet, sweet 's her voice, As a low warbled tune; And sweet, sweet her lips, Like the rose-bud of June.

She looks to sea, and sighs, As the foamy wave flows, And treads on men's strength, As in glory she goes.

Oh haste, my bonnie bark, O'er the waves let us bound, As the deer from the horn, Or the hare from the hound.

Pluck down thy white plumes, Sink thy keel in the sand, Whene'er ye see my love, And the wave of her hand.

THOU HAST SWORN BY THY G.o.d, MY JEANIE.

Thou hast sworn by thy G.o.d, my Jeanie, By that pretty white hand o' thine, And by a' the lowing stars in heaven, That thou would aye be mine; And I hae sworn by my G.o.d, my Jeanie, And by that kind heart o' thine, By a' the stars sown thick owre heaven, That thou would aye be mine.

Then foul fa' the hands that loose sic bands, And the heart that would part sic love; But there 's nae hand can loose my band But the finger o' G.o.d above.

Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, And my claithing e'er sae mean, I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve, Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean.

Her white arm wad be a pillow for me, Fu' safter than the down; And luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind wings, And sweetly I 'll sleep, an' soun'.

Come here to me, thou la.s.s o' my love, Come here and kneel wi' me; The morn is fu' o' the presence o' G.o.d, And I canna pray without thee.

The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers, The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie; Our gudeman leans owre his kale-yard d.y.k.e, And a blithe auld bodie is he.

The Beuk maun be ta'en when the carle comes hame, Wi' the holie psalmodie, And thou maun speak o' me to thy G.o.d, And I will speak o' thee.

YOUNG ELIZA.[9]

Come, maid, upon yon mountain brow, This day of rest I 'll give to you, And clasp thy waist with many a vow, My loved, my young Eliza.

'Tis not that cheek, that bosom bare, That high arch'd eye, that long brown hair, That fair form'd foot, thine angel air,-- But 'tis thy mind, Eliza.

Think not to charm me with thine eye, Those smiling lips, that heaving sigh, My heart 's charm'd with a n.o.bler tie,-- It is thy mind, Eliza.

This heart, which every love could warm, Which every pretty face could charm, No more will beat the sweet alarm, But to my young Eliza.

The peasant lad unyokes his car, The star of even shines bright and far, And lights me to the flood-torn scaur, To meet my young Eliza.

There is the smile to please, where truth And soft persuasion fills her mouth, While warm with all the fire of youth, She clasps me, young Eliza.

My heart's blood warms in stronger flow, My cheeks are tinged with redder glow, When sober matron, Evening slow, Bids me to meet Eliza.

The bard can kindle his soul to flame, The patriot hunts a deathless name; Give me the peasant's humble fame, And give me young Eliza.

The warlock glen has tint its gloom, The fairie burn the witching broom, All wear a lovelier, sweeter bloom, For there I meet Eliza.

Then come that mind, so finely form'd, By native truth and virtue warm'd, With love's soft simplest lay is charm'd, Come to my breast, Eliza.

[9] This song, which is a juvenile production of the poet, has been communicated by his niece, Miss Pagan of Dumfries. The heroine of the song, Eliza Neilson, eldest daughter of the Reverend Mr Neilson of Kirkbean, still lives, and is resident in Dumfries.

LOVELY WOMAN.[10]

I 've rock'd me on the giddy mast, Through seas tempestuous foamin', I 've braved the toil of mountain storm, From dawning to the gloamin'; Round the green bosom'd earth, sea-swept, In search of pleasure roamin', And found the world a wilderness, Without thee, lovely woman!

The farmer reaps his golden fields, The merchant sweeps the ocean; The soldier's steed, gore-fetlock'd, snorts Through war-field's wild commotion; All combat in eternal toil, Mirk midnight, day, and gloamin', To pleasure Heaven's divinest gift, Thee, lovely, conquering woman!

The savage in the desert dark, The monster's den exploring; The sceptre-swaying prince, who rules The nations round adoring; Nay, even the laurell'd-templed bard Dew-footed at the gloamin', Melodious wooes the world's ear, To please thee, lovely woman!

[10] This song appeared in the _London Magazine_, new edit., No. x.x.x. It was addressed to Mrs Pagan of Curriestanes, the poet's sister, who, it may be remarked, possessed a large share of the family talent. She died on the 5th February 1854, and her remains rest in the Pagan family's burying-ground, in Terregles' churchyard.

EBENEZER PICKEN.

Ebenezer Picken was the only son of a silk-weaver in Paisley, who bore the same Christian name. He was born at the _Well-meadow_ of that town, about the year 1769. Intending to follow the profession of a clergyman, he proceeded to the University of Glasgow, which he attended during five or six sessions. With talents of a high order, he permitted an enthusiastic attachment to verse-making to interfere with his severer studies and r.e.t.a.r.d his progress in learning. Contrary to the counsel of his father and other friends, he published, in 1788, while only in his nineteenth year, a thin octavo volume of poems; and afterwards gave to the gay intercourse of lovers of the muse, many precious hours which ought to have been applied to mental improvement. Early in 1791 he became teacher of a school at Falkirk; and on the 14th of April of the same year appeared at the Pantheon, Edinburgh, where he delivered an oration in blank verse on the comparative merits of Ramsay and Fergusson, a.s.signing the pre-eminence to the former poet. In this debate his fellow-townsman and friend, Alexander Wilson, the future ornithologist, advocated in verse the merits of Fergusson; and the productions of both the youthful adventurers were printed in a pamphlet ent.i.tled the "Laurel Disputed." In occupying the position of schoolmaster at Falkirk, Picken proposed to raise funds to aid him in the prosecution of his theological studies; but the circ.u.mstance of his having formed a matrimonial union with a young lady, a daughter of Mr Beveridge of the Burgher congregation in Falkirk, by involving him in the expenses of a family, proved fatal to his clerical aspirations. He accepted the situation of teacher of an endowed school at Carron, where he remained till 1796, when he removed to Edinburgh. In the capital he found employment as manager of a mercantile establishment, and afterwards on his own account commenced business as a draper.

Unsuccessful in this branch of business, he subsequently sought a livelihood as a music-seller and a teacher of languages. In 1813, with the view of bettering his circ.u.mstances, he published, by subscription, two duodecimo volumes of "Poems and Songs," in which are included the pieces contained in his first published volume. His death took place in 1816.

Picken is remembered as a person of gentlemanly appearance, endeavouring to confront the pressure of unmitigated poverty. His dispositions were eminently social, and his love of poetry amounted to a pa.s.sion. He is commemorated in the poetical works of his early friend, Wilson, who has addressed to him a lengthened poetical epistle. In 1818, a dictionary of Scottish words, which he had occupied some years in preparing, was published at Edinburgh by "James Sawers, Calton Street," and this publication was found of essential service by Dr Jamieson in the preparation of his "Supplement" to his "Dictionary of the Scottish Language." Among Picken's poetical compositions are a few pieces bearing the impress of genius.[11]

[11] Andrew Picken, the only son of Ebenezer, a person of somewhat unprepossessing appearance, contrived to derive a tolerable livelihood by following the conjunct occupation of an itinerant player and portrait-painter. He was the writer of some good poetry, and about 1827 published a respectable volume of verses, ent.i.tled, "The Bedouin, and other Poems." He soon afterwards proceeded to America.

PEGGIE WI' THE GLANCIN' E'E.

Walkin' out ae mornin' early, Ken ye wha I chanced to see?

But my la.s.sie, gay and frisky, Peggie wi' the glancin' e'e.

Phbus, left the lap o' Thetis, Fast was lickin' up the dew, Whan, ayont a risin' hilloc, First my Peggie came in view.

Hark ye, I gaed up to meet her; But whane'er my face she saw, Up her plaidin' coat she kilt.i.t, And in daffin' scour'd awa'.

Weel kent I that though my Peggie Ran sae fast out owre the mead, She was wantin' me to follow-- Yes, ye swains, an' sae I did.

At yon burnie I o'ertook her, Whare the shinin' pebbles lie; Whare the flowers, that fringe the border, Soup the stream, that wimples by.

While wi' her I sat reclinin', Frae her lips I staw a kiss; While she blush'd, I took anither,-- Shepherds, was there ill in this?