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To each minstrel delusion, farewell !—and for ever-
me, The pall of the dead for a mantle hangs o'er me; But my heart shall not flag, and my nerves shall not
shiver, Though devoted I go-to return again never !
“Too oft shall the notes of Mackrimmon's bewailing
Cha till, cha till, cha till sin tuille !
ON ETTRICK FOREST'S MOUN
On Ettrick Forest's mountains dun,
'[See a note on Banshee, Lady of the Lake, ante, vol. iii. p. 109.)
* Written after a week's shooting and fishing, in which the Poet had been engaged with some friends. [The reader may see these verses set to music in Mr. Thomson's Scottish Melodies for
And seek the heath-frequenting brood
Along the silver streams of Tweed,
*[See the famous salmon-spearing scene in Guy Mannering. Waverley Novels, vol. iii., p. 259–63.]
Alwyn, the seat of the Lord Somerville ; now, alas! untenanted, by the las death of that kind and hospitable nobleman, the author's nearest neighbour and intimate friend. [Lord S. died in February, 1819.] уу
Or lowlier board of Ashestiel ;'
THE SUN UPON THE WEIRDLAW
_" Rimhin aluin 'stu mo run."
The air composed by the Editor of Albyn's Anthology. The
words written for Mr. George Thomson's Scottish Melodies, [1822.]
The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill,
In Ettrick's vale, is sinking sweet; The westland wind is hush and still,
The lake lies sleeping at my feet. Yet not the landscape to mine eye
Bears those bright hues that once it bore; Though evening, with her richest dyc,
Flames o'er the hills of Ettricks shore.
With listless look along the plain,
I see Tweed's silver current glide, And coldly mark the holy fane,
Of Melrose rise in ruin'd pride.
Ashestiel, the Poet's residence at that time. ? ["' Nathaniel Gow told me that he got the air from an old gentleman, a Mr. Dalrymple of Orangefield, (he thinks,) who had it from a friend in the Western Isles, as an old Highland air."
The quiet lake, the balmy air,
The hill, the stream, the tower, the tree, Are they still such as once they were,
Or is the dreary change in me?
Alas, the warp'd and broken board,
How can it bear the painter's dye!
How to the minstrel's skill reply!
To feverish pulse each gale blows chill ;
Were barren as this moorland hill.
THE MAID OF ISLA,
AIR --" The Maid of Isla.”
WRITTEN FOR MR. GEORGE THOMSON'S SCOTTISH
O, MAID OF ISLA, from the cliff,
That looks on troubled wave and sky,
Contend with ocean gallantly?
And steep'd her leeward deck in foam,
O, Isla's maid, she seeks her home.
O, Isla's maid, yon sea-bird mark,
Against the storm-cloud, lowering dark,
As to the rock she wheels away ;Where clouds are dark, and billows rave,
Why to the shelter should she come Of cliff, exposed to wind and wave?
O, maid of Isla, 't is her home.
As breeze and tide to yonder skiff,
Thou 'rt adverse to the suit I bring, And cold as is yon wintry cliff,
Where sea-birds close their wearied wing. Yet cold as rock, unkind as wave,
Still, Isla's maid, to thee I come; For in thy love, or in his grave,
ust Allan Vourich find his home.
THE FOR A Y.
SET TO MUSIC BY JOHN WHITEFIELD, MUS. DOC. CAM.
The last of our steers on the board has been spread,
* [Set to music in Mr. Thomson's Scottish Collection, 1830.]