Let fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, In the birks of Aberfeldy. The old song of the Birks of Abergeldie was well known, and still merits notice. The song of Burns was conceived while he stood beside the Falls of Aberfeldy, in Perthshire, during his highland tour. He seldom adhered so closely to the spirit of the old words which he sought to imitate. His own original fancy, and happy turn of thought, carried away from the paths of others. him FAREWELL, THOU FAIR DAY. Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties! Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know, Thou strik❜st the dull peasant, he sinks in the dark, Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark!" In the field of proud honour, our swords in our hands, While Victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, Burns wrote this heroic song at the first out-burst of the French revolutionary war, and so well was he satisfied with what he had done, that he was desirous of having it set to music, and printed separately. The poet imagines a field of battle, the sun setting, the victory won, and the victorious and the wounded and the dying, chanting the song of death. The song, noble and heartrousing as it is, has some lines of common sentiment and cumbrous expression. SAIR I RUE THE WITLESS WISH. O sair I rue the witless wish That gar'd me gang wi' you at e'en, And sair I rue the birken bush That screen'd us with its leaves sae green. And tho' ye vow'd ye wad be mine, The tear o' grief ay dims my e'e, For, O! I'm fear'd that I may tyne The love that ye hae promised me! While ithers seek their e'ening sports, When a' my nights were spent wi' glee; But O! I'm fear'd that I may tyne The love that ye hae promised me. Dear lassie, keep thy heart aboon, 1 For I ha'e wair'd my winter's fee, I've coft a bonnie silken gown, To be a bridal gift for thee. And sooner shall the hills fa' down, And mountain-high shall stand the sea, Ere I'd accept a gowden crown To change that love I bear for thee. Ease and gentleness, rather than vehemence and vigour, characterise the songs of Tannahill. The sorrow of the lady in this song is moderate, and the rapture of the lover discreet. They would make a prudent and frugal pair. AFTON WATER. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills! How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, The pastoral feeling, which Burns infused into this sweet song, is in strict conformity with nature. The woodland primrose, the scented birk, the note of the blackbird, the call of the lapwing and the cushat, the flowery brae, and a fair heroine, are found now, as they were then, on the banks of this little stream. Time, which works such havoc with pastoral landscape, can take nothing away from Afton Water, unless it dries up the stream and strikes the ground with barrenness. Afton Water is in Ayrshire, and is one of the numerous streams which augment the Nith. The song was written in honour of Mrs. Dugald Stewart of Afton Lodge-an accomplished lady, and excellent lyric poetess; and the first person of any note who perceived and acknowledged the genius of Burns. |