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As a poet, he fills a niche in Scottish the little elf and his wife, and having literature which had not been pre-occu- got hold of them, by his magic power he pied. He is another of the poets whom crammed the one into a pepper-box, and the university did not deprive of the use the other into a mustard-pot, there to of his native tongue, and his less known remain till the hand of the fairest Scotpoems are a mine of Scottish words, tish maid should be won in public and as such are valued by our anti-competition by the most accomplished quarian collectors. Anster Fair, his athlete in Scotland, The mustard-pot passport to immortality, he treated in the course of ages having come into as a sort of illegitimate progeny of his the possession of Maggie Lauder, by Muse in her frolicsome and unbridled special permission of Oberon, Tommy youth, and he never lost hope of being is liberated from his prison long enough able to produce something that would to advise her-the fairest Scottish maidbear his poetic reputation more in keep- how she may obtain the fairest man in ing with his notions of respectability. Scotland as her husband. The manner His weakness as a poet was the want of proposed is to offer her hand as the prize passion ; and the success of Anster of a competition at next Anster Fair. Fair is owing to its being of that rare A public proclamation throughout species of poetry in which passion has Scotland is made to this effect, and Rob no place.

the Ranter, the cleverest man in ScotIt is a poem

to be enjoyed-as land, is successful in carrying off the “ Tickler” said ; to be taken in the fair prize. The event on which their pocket on your trip to Holland, and imprisonment depended being thus read in the Zuyder Zee. It is a fine brought about, the two fairies regain thing, North ! full of life, and glee, and their liberty. The chief part of the glamour.”

poem, however, is devoted to a descrip

tion of the various incidents of the Fair LEGEND OF ANSTER FAIR. and competition, and the various parties,

including the King (James V.), who are ANSTER Fair is unique in British attracted to them. literature, and may be defined as a de. scriptive poem, with two love stories and a fairy tale, the evolution of whose

ANSTER FAIR. plots depended upon one another. The outline is as follows :-The fairy, Tommy Puck, incensed at Susan Scott, [Evening before the Fair.) niece of Sir Michael the Wizard, for

Nor less is the disport and joy without, meanly jilting her lover, Melville of

In Anster town and loan, through all Carnbee, put the latter up to a plan the throng : by which he revenged the indignity. 'Tis but one vast tumultuous jovial rout, sir Michael having discovered the real Tumult of laughing and of gabbling author of the plot, determined to punish strong ;

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Thousands and tens of thousands reel | And now a section of his face appears, about,

And diving, now he ducks clean down With joyous uproar blustering along ; o'er head and ears. Elbows push boringly on sides with pain, Wives hustling come on wives, and men

Anon uprises, with blithe bagpipe's sound,

And shriller din of flying fiddlestick, dash hard on men.

On the green loan and meadow-crofts There lacks no sport : tumblers in won- around, drous pranks,

A town of tents, with blankets roofèd High staged, display their limbs'agility; quick : And now, they, mountant from the thousand stakes are rooted in the scaffold's planks,

ground; Kick with their whirling heels the clouds A thousand hammers clank and clatter on high,

thick; And now,

like cat, upon their dexterous A thousand fiddles squeak and squeal it shanks

yare ; They light, and of new monsters cheat thousand stormy drones out-gasp in the sky;

groans their air. Whilst motley Merry-Andrew, with his

And such a turbulence of general mirth jokes,

Rises from Anster Loan upon the sky, Wide through the incorp'rate mob the

That from his throne Jove starts, and bursting laugh provokes.

down on earth Others upon the green, in open air,

Looks, wond'ring what may be the Enact the best of Davie Lindsay's plays;

jollity : While ballad-singing women do not spare

He rests his eye on shores of Fortha's Their throats to give good utt'rance to

Firth, their lays ;

And smirks, as knowing well the

Market nigh, And many a leather-lung'd co-chanting pair

And bids his gods and goddesses look Of wood-legg'd sailors, children's laugh

down, To mark the rage of joy that maddens

Anster town. Lift to the courts of Jove their voices loud, Y-hymning their mishaps, to please the From Cellardyke to wind-swept Pittenheedless crowd.


And from Balhouffie to Kilrennymill, Meanwhile the sun, fatigued (as well he Vaulted with blankets, crofts and meadows may)

seem, With shining on a night till seven So many tents the grassy spaces fill ; o'clock,

Meantime the Moon, yet leaning on the Beams on each chimney-head a farewell

stream, ray,

With fluid silver bathes the welkin chill, Illuming into golden shaft its smoke ;

That now earth's ball, upon the side of And now in sea, far west from Oronsay, night, Is dipp'd his chariot-wheel's refulgent Swims in an argent sea of beautiful moonspoke,


and gaze,

He was the son of Mr William JEANIE MORRISON. Motherwell, an ironmonger in Glasgow,

I've wandered east, I've wandered west, and was born in that city in 1797. His

Through mony a weary way ; family removing to Edinburgh, he be

But never, never can forget came a pupil of the High School ; but

The luve o' life's young day! in his eleventh year he went to live The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en, with an uncle in Paisley, and he finished May weel be black gin Yule ; his education at the grammar-school of But blacker fa' awaits the heart that town, with the exception of a Where first fond luve grows cule. session, when he attended Greek and Latin classes in Glasgow University. O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

He served some time in the Sheriff- The thochts o' bygane years Clerk's office in Paisley, and soon after Still fling their shadows ower my path, received the appointment of Sheriff- And blind my een wi' tears : clerk Depute of Renfrewshire. In | They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears, 1819, he became editor of The Harp of And sair and sick I pine, Renfrewshire, a poetical miscellany, and As memory idly summons up in 1827, published his best-known

The blithe blinks o' langsyne. book, Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modern, the historical introduction to which 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, displayed an extensive acquaintance

'Twas then we twa did part ;

Sweet time—sad time! twa bairns at with the subject, and great critical taste

scule, and discernment. In 1828, he started

Twa bairns, and but ae heart ! the Paisley Magazine, which did not live

'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink, beyond its first volume. He at the

To leir ilk ither lear ; same time edited the Paisley Advertiser, And tones, and looks, and smiles were a weekly conservative newspaper. In shed, 1830, he became editor of the Glasgow Remembered evermair. Courier, and continued in charge of it till his death in 1835. He published I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet, an elegant collection of his poems, en- When sitting on that bink, titled, Poems, Narrative and Lyrical, in Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, 1832 ; and an enlarged edition, with a What our wee heads could think? memoir, was published soon after his When baith bent doun ower ae braid death. He has two marked styles


Wi' ae buik on our knee, the homely pathetic sentimental, where he employs Scotch ; and the chivalrous Thy lips were on thy lesson, but

My lesson was in thee. imaginative sentimental, which he writes in pure English, or affected antique. Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads, “Jeannie Morrison” is his best in the

How cheeks brent red wi' shame, former, and “The Cavalier's Song" | Whene'er the scule-weans laughin' said, is a fair specimen of the latter style. We cleek'd thegither hame?


I've wandered east, I've wandered west,

I've borne a weary lot ;
But in my wanderings, far or near,

Ye never were forgot.
The fount that first burst frae this heart,
Still travels on its way ;
And channels deeper as it rins,

The luve o' life's young day.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,

Since we were sindered young,
I've never seen your face, nor heard

The music o' your tongue;
But I could hug all wretchedness,

And happy could I dee,
Did I but ken your heart still dreamed

O' bygane days and me !

And mind ye o' the Saturdays,

(The scule then skail't at noon), When we ran aff to speel the braes

The broomy braes o June?
My head rins round and round about,

My heart flows like a sea,
As ane by ane the thochts rush back

O' scule-time and othee.
Oh, mornin' life! oh, mornin' luve !

Oh lichtsome days and lang,
When hinnied hopes around our hearts

Like simmer blossoms sprang !
Oh mind ye, luve, how aft we left

The deavin' dinsome toun,
To wander by the green burnside,

And hear its waters croon?
The simmer leaves hung ower our head,

The flowers burst round our feet, And in the gloamin o' the wood :

The throssil whusslit sweet.
The throssil whusslit in the wood,

The burn sang to the trees,
And we with Nature's heart in tune,

Concerted harmonies ;
And on the knowe abune the burn,

For hours thegither sat
In the silentness o' joy, till baith

Wi' very gladness grat.
Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison,

Tears trinkled doun your cheek,
Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane

Had ony power to speak ! That was a time, a blessed time,

When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth,

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,

Gin I hae been to thee
As closely twined wi' earliest thochts,

As ye hae been to me?
Oh! tell me gin their music fills

Thine ear as it does mine;
Oh ! say gin e'er your heart grows grit

Wi' dreamings o' langsyne?

A steed! a steed of matchlesse speed,

A sword of metal keene !
All else to noble heartes is drosse,

All else on earth is meane.
The neighyinge of the war-horse prowde,

The rowlinge of the drum,
The clangour of the trumpet lowde,

Be soundes from heaven that come ; And oh! the thundering presse of knightes

Whenas their war cryes swell,
May tole from heaven an angel bright,

And rouse a fiend from hell.

Then mounte, then mounte, brave gal

lants, all, And don your helemes amaine : Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honour, call

Us to the field againe.
No shrewish tears shall fill our eye

When the sword-hilt's in our handHeart whole we'll part, and no whit sighe

For the fayrest of the land ;
Let piping swaine, and craven wight,

Thus weepe and pulling crye,
Our businesse is like men to fight,

And hero-like to die !




JAMES Hislop, the author of the teaching. In 1827, he again went to “Cameronian's Dream,” was born in sea as a teacher, in the Tweed man-ofJuly 1798, in the parish of Kirkconnel, war, and while cruizing off the Cape de in Dumfriesshire. So humble were the Verd Islands, he died of fever, caught circumstances of his parents that until while sleeping at night in the open air, his thirteenth year, when he was sent with a pleasure party, on the island of for a twelvemonth to school, he taught St Jago, in December 1827. • The himself to read, with the assistance of Cameronian's Dream,” his only piece his grandfather, a country weaver, while that still lives, is remarkable for the he was employed as a cow-herd. In purity of its style, and the clear imagihis fourteenth year he became a shep- native beauty and completeness of its herd in the neighbourhood of Airsmoss, conception. While pervaded by the the scene of the death of Richard spirit of the subject, and full of the Cameron, in 1680, and here he culti- stirring associations of the locality, vated his mind by study so as to be a heightened by a skilful use of the poetia fair classical scholar. He not only cal incidents of the scenery, yet it is so drank at the spring of knowledge him- moderate in tone that it might enlist the self, but he opened an evening class, in sympathies of a cavalier. which he taught his rustic associates. In 1819, he tried teaching in Greenock, THE CAMERONIAN'S DREAM. but, like Jean Adam, found it an uncongenial soil, and he removed to Edin. In a dream of the night I was wafted

away, burgh, having in 1821 contributed to the To the muirland of mist where the marEdinburgh Magazine “ The Cameron

tyrs lay; ian's Dream.” Through Lord Jeffrey, Where Cameron's sword and his Bible he obtained the appointment of schoolmaster on board the Doris man-of-war, Engraved on the stone where the heather with which he started for South grows green. America. At the end of the cruise he

'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness published his observations in the Edin

and blood, burgh Magazine. In 1825, he went

When the minister's home was the mounto London, where he made the acquaint- tain and wood; ance of Allan Cunningham, Edward When in Wellwood's dark valley the stanIrving, and Joanna Baillie, and tried to

dard of Zion, report for the press ; but finding the All bloody and torn ʼmong the heather work unsuitable, gave it up, and resumed was lying.

are seen,

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