But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care, But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, I speer'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchled feet-- He begged, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife, So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow. The old song of "The Queen of the Lothians came cruising to Fife" had some share in the composition of this admirable lyric. It furnished the measure, the subject, and the general outline of the story; but it is bald, meagre, and unembellished; there are no sallies of wit, no seasonings of humour, and no varieties of incident in it. The conclusion can bear quoting: The mither cried butt the house, Jockie! come here, Dalgarnock, now incorporated with Closeburn, was the name of a small and beautiful little parish, extending along the banks of the Nith; its ruined kirk and lonesome burial ground are often visited by the old people of the neighbourhood-human affection clings anxiously to paternal dust. It was here that "Old Mortality" was found repairing the martyr's tombstones; and in the vicinity is Creehope-linn, which gave many a Cameronian shelter, and afforded refuge to Burley when he fought single-handed with Satan. Burns, in the course of his song, employs a proverbial expression in a way which persuades me that he did not understand it. When a lady dismisses her lover, the unfortunate swain is called her "auld shoon" --she wore him while she pleased, and then put him off. For one girl to wear the "auld shoon" of another is, in the rude figurative language of the peasantry, to accept the addresses of the other's discarded lover. In this way the vaunt in an old song is explained : Ye may tell the coof that gets her, In Burns, the first inquiry of the lady for her cousin Bess is sufficiently malicious:— I speer'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, But the next question is utterly unintelligible—“ and how her new shoon suited her shauchled feet"-unless we suppose that she meant to insinuate only that the feet of her cousin were "shauchled," or ill formed. By a slight alteration, I have made the line allude satirically to her cousin's situation with the discarded lover; and I imagine I have restored it to the sense which Burns intended. OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST? Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee. Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'. Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, If thou wert there, if thou wert there. Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, Wad be my queen, wad be my queen. In Burns's manuscripts, among which this sweet little song was found, it is called " Address to a Lady." The repetitions of the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth lines of each verse make it echo the air of "The Lass of Livingstone." ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY. How can my poor heart be glad, When in summer's noon I faint, As weary flocks around me pant, Haply in this scorching sun My sailor's thund'ring at his gun : At the starless midnight hour, And thunders rend the howling air, All I can-I weep and pray, Peace, thy olive wand extend, And as a brother kindly greet: power; Then may heaven with prosp'rous gales Fill my sailor's welcome sails, To my arms their charge convey, My dear lad that's far away. Burns was a zealous lover of his country, and has stamped his patriotic, feelings on many a lasting verse. |