BOOK VI - KING AND COMMONWEAL 85 WHEN ALYSANDYR OUR KING WAS DEDE WHEN Alysandyr our King was dede =That Scotland led in luve and le, Away was sons of ale and brede, =Of wine and wax, of gamyn and gle; Our gold was changyd into lede. =Christ born into Virginitie Succour Scotland and remede =That stad is in perplexytie. 86 - SIR PATRICK SPENS THE king sits in Dunfermline town, =Drinking the blood-red wine: "O where will I get a skeely skipper, =To sail this new ship of mine?" O up and spake an eldern knight, =Sat at the king's right knee: "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor =That ever sail'd the sea." Our king has written a braid letter, =And seal'd it with his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, =Was walking on the strand. "To Noroway, to Noroway, =To Noroway o'er the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway, =‘Tis thou maun bring her hame." The first word that Sir Patrick read, =Sae loud, loud laughed he; The neist word that Sir Patrick read, =The tear blinded his e'e. "O wha is this has done this deed, =And tauld the king o' me, To send me out at this time of the year =To sail upon the sea? "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, =Our ship must sail the faem; The king's daughter of Noroway, =‘Tis we must fetch her hame." They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, =Wi' a' the speed they may; They hae landed in Noroway, =Upon a Wodensday. They hadna been a week, a week =In Noroway but twae, When that the lords o' Noroway =Began aloud to say: "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, =And a' our queenis fee!" "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud, =Fu' loud I hear ye lie! "For I brought as much white monie =As gane my men and me, And I brought a half fou o' gude red goud =Out o'er the sea wi' me. "Make ready, make ready, my merry men a', =Our gude ship sails the morn:" "Now, ever alake! my master dear, =I fear a deadly storm! "I saw the new moon late yestreen, =Wi' the auld moon in her arm; And if we gang to sea, master, =I fear we'll come to harm." They hadna sailed a league, a league, =A league but barely three, When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, =And gurly grew the sea. The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, =It was sic a deadly storm, And the waves came o'er the broken ship, =Till a' her sides were torn. "O where will I get a gude sailor, =To take my helm in hand, Till I get up to the tall topmast, =To see if I can spy land?" "O here am I, a sailor gude, =To take the helm in hand, Till you go up to the tall topmast, =But I fear you'll ne'er spy land." He hadna gane a step, a step, =A step but barely ane, When a bout flew out of our goodly ship, =And the salt sea it cam in. "Gae fetch a web o' the silken claith, =Another o' the twine, And wap them into our ship's side, =And let na the sea come in." They fetched a web o' the silken claith, =Another o' the twine, And they wapped them roun' that gude ship's side, =But still the sea cam in. O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords =To weet their cork-heel'd shoon; But Lang or a' the play was play'd, =They wat their hats aboon. And mony was the feather-bed =That flottered on the faem, And mony was the gude lord's son =That never mair cam hame. The ladies wrang their fingers white, =The maidens tore their hair, A' for the sake of their true loves, =For them they'll see nae mair. O lang, lang may the ladies sit, =Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens =Come sailing to the strand. And lang, lang may the maidens sit, =Wi' their goud kames in their hair, A' waiting for their ain dear loves, =For them they'll see nae mair. Half owre, half owre to Aberdour =‘Tis fifty fathoms deep, And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, =Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. 87 - FREEDOM A! FREDOME is a noble thing! Fredome maiss man to haif liking: Fredome all solace to man giffis: He levis at ease that freely levis! A noble heart may haif nane ease, Na ellis nocht that may him please, Gif fredome failye; for free liking Is yearnit owre all other thing. Na he, that ay has levit free, May nocht knaw weil the propertie, The anger, na the wrechit dome, That is couplit to foul thyrldome. Bot gif he had assayit it, Than all perquer he suld it wit; And suld think fredome mar to prize Than all the gold in warld that is. =======_John Barbour_. 88 - SIR JOHN THE GRAHAM WHEN they him fand, and gude Wallace him saw, He lichtit doun, and hynt him fra them a' In armis up; behaldand his pale face, He kissit him, and cry'd full oft: "Alas! My best brother in warld that ever I had! My ae fald friend when I was hardest stad! My hope, my heal, thou was in maist honour! My faith, my help, strenthiest in stour! In thee was wit, fredome, and hardiness; In thee was truth, manheid, and nobleness; In thee was rule, in thee was governance; In thee was virtue withouttin variance; In thee leaute, in thee was great largnas; In thee gentrice, in thee was stedfastnas. =======_Henry the Minstrel_. 89 - THE RED HARLAW Now haud your tongue, baith wife and carle, =And listen, great and sma', And I will sing of Glenallan's Earl =That fought on the red Harlaw. The cronach's cried on Bennachie, =And doun the Don and a', And hieland and lawland may mournfu' be =For the sair field of Harlaw. They saddled a hundred milk-white steeds, =They hae bridled a hundred black, With a chafron of steel on each horse's head, =And a good knight upon his back. They hadna ridden a mile, a mile, =A mile but barely ten, When Donald came branking down the brae =Wi' twenty thousand men. Their tartans they were waving wide, =The glaives were glancing clear, The pibrochs rung frae side to side, =Would deafen ye to hear. The great Earl in his stirrups stood =That Highland host to see: "Now here a knight that's stout and good =May prove a jeopardie: "What wouldst thou do, my squire so gay, =That rides beside my reyne, Were ye Glenallan's Earl the day, =And I were Roland Cheyne? "To turn the rein were sin and shame, =To fight were wondrous peril, What would ye do now, Roland Cheyne, =Were ye Glenallan's Earl?" "Were I Glenallan's Earl this tide, =And ye were Roland Cheyne, The spur should be in my horse's side, =And the bridle upon his mane. "If they hae twenty thousand blades =And we twice ten times ten, Yet they hae but their tartan plaids, =And we are mail-clad men. "My horse shall ride through ranks sae rude, =As through the moorland fern, Then ne'er let the gentle Norman blude =Grow cauld for Highland kerne." =======_Sir Walter Scott_. 90 - THE BATTLE OF OTTERBOURNE IT fell upon the Lammas tide, =When the muir-men win their hay, The doughty Douglas bound him to ride =Into England, to drive a prey. He chose the Gordons and the Graemes, =With them the Lindsays, light and gay; But the Jardines wald not with him ride, =And they rue it to this day. And he has burned the dales of Tyne, =And pant of Bambrough-shire; And three good towers on Reidswire fells, =He left them all on fire. And he marched up to Newcastle, =And rode it round about; "O wha's the lord of this castle, =Or wha's the lady o't?" But up spake proud Lord Percy then, =And O but he spake hie! "I am the lord of this castle, =My wife's the lady gay." "If thou'rt the lord of this castle, =Sae weel it pleases me! For ere I cross the Border fells, =The tane o' us shall die." He took a lang spear in his hand, =Shod with the metal free, And for to meet the Douglas there, =He rode right furiouslie. "Had we twa been upon the green, =And never an eye to see, I wad hae had you, flesh and fell; =But your sword sall gae wi' me." "But gae ye up to Otterbourne, =And wait there dayis three; And if I come not ere three dayis end, =A fause knight ca' ye me." "The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn, =‘Tis pleasanL there to be; But there is nought at Otterbourne, =To feed my men and me. "The deer rins wild on hill and dale, =The birds fly wild from tree to tree; But there is neither bread nor kail =To fend my men and me. "Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, =Where you shall welcome be; And if you come not at three dayis end, =A fause lord I'll ca' thee." "Thither will I come," proud Percy said, ="By the might of Our Ladie!" "There will I bide thee," said the Douglas, ="My troth I plight to thee." They lighted high on Otterbourne, =Upon the bent sae brown; They lighted high on Otterbourne, =And threw their pallions down. And he that had a bonnie boy, =Sent out his horse to grass; And he that had not a bonnie boy, =His ain servant he was. But up then spake a little page, =Before the peep of dawn— "O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, =For Percy's hard at hand." "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud! =Sae loud I hear ye lie; For Percy had not men yestreen =To dight my men and me. "But I hae dreamed a dreary dream, =Beyond the Isle of Skye: I saw a dead man win a fight, =And I think that man was I." He belted on his gude braid sword, =And to the field he ran; But he forgot the helmet good, =That should have kept his brain. When Percy wi' the Douglas met, =I wat he was fu' fain! They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, =And the blood ran down like rain. But Percy, with his good broadsword, =That could so sharply wound, Has wounded Douglas on the brow, =Till he fell to the ground. Then he called on his little foot-page, =And said, "Run speedilie, And fetch my ain dear sister‘s son, =Sir Hugh Montgomery." "My nephew good," the Douglas said, ="What recks the death of ane! Last night I dreamed a dreary dream, =And I ken the day's thy ain. "My wound is deep; I fain would sleep; =Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken bush, =That grows on yonder lily lea. "O bury me by the braken bush, =Beneath the blooming brier, Let never living mortal ken =That a kindly Scot lies here." He lifted up that noble lord, =Wi' the saut tear in his e'e; He hid him in the braken bush, =That his merry men might not see. The moon was clear, the day drew near, =The spears in finders flew, But mony a gallant Englishman =Ere day the Scotsmen slew. The Gordons good, in English blood =They steep'd their hose and shoon; The Lindsays flew like fire about, =Till all the fray was done. The Percy and Montgomery met, =That either of other were fain; They swakked swords, and they twa swat, =And aye the blood ran down between. "Yield thee, O yield thee, Percy," he said, ="Or else I vow I'll lay thee low!" "To whom must I yield," quoth Earl Percy, ="Now that I see it must be so?" "Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, =Nor yet shalt thou yield to me; But yield thee to the braken bush, =That grows upon yon lily lea!" "I will not yield to a braken bush, =Nor yet will I yield to a brier; But I would yield to Earl Douglas, =Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he were here." As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, =He struck his sword's point in the ground; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, =And quickly took him by the hand. This deed was done at Otterbourne =About the breaking of the day; Earl Douglas was buried at the braken bush, =And the Percy led captive away. 91 - A REFORMATION BALLAD THE Paip, that Pagane full of pryde, He hes us blindit lang, For whair the blind the blind dois gyde No wounder baith ga wrang; Lyke prince and king he led the ring Of all iniquitie: _Hay trix_, _Tryme go trix_, _Under the grene wood tre_. Bot his abominatioun The Lord hes brocht to lycht; His Popisch pryde and thriefald crowne Almaist hes loste thair mycht. His plak Pardonis ar bot lardonis Of new fund vanitie: _Hay trix_, etc. His Cardinallis hes cause to murne, His Bischoppis borne aback, His Abbotis gat ane uncouth turne, When schavelingis went to sack, With burges wyffis thay led thair lyves, And fure better nor we: _Hay trix_, etc. His Carmelitis and Jacobinis, His Dominikis had greit do, His Cordeleris and Augustinis, Sanct Frances ordour to; Thay sillie Freiris mony yeiris With babling blent our e'e: _Hay trix_, etc. The blind Bischop, he culd nocht preiche For playing with the lassis, The sillie Freir behuiffit to fleiche For almous that he assis, The Curat his Creid he culd nocht reid, Schame fall the cumpanie: _Hay trix_, etc. Of lait I saw thir lymmaris stand Lyke mad men at mischeif, Thinking to get the upper hand, Thay luke efter releif. Bot all in vaine, go tell them plaine, That day will never be: _Hay trix_, etc. 92 - KINMONT WILLIE O HAVE ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde? =O have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae ta'en bauld Kinmont Willie =On Haribee to hang him up? Had Willie had but twenty men, =But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en, =Wi' eight score in his companie. They band his legs beneath the steed, =They tied his hands behind his back, They guarded him, fivesome on each side, =And they brought him owre the Liddel-rack. They led him through the Liddel-rack, =And also through the Carlisle sands; They brought him to Carlisle castle, =To be at my Lord Scroope's commands. "My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, =And wha will dare this deed avow? Or answer by the Border law? =Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?" "Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! =There's never a Scot shall set thee free: Before ye cross my castle yett, =I trow ye shall take farewell o' me." "Fear na ye that, my lord," quo' Willie: ="By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroope," he said, "I never yet lodged in a hostelrie, =But I paid my lawing before I gaed." Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, =In Branksome Ha', where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willie, =Between the hours of night and day. He has ta'en the table wi' his hand, =He gar'd the red wine spring on hie— "Now Christ's curse on my head," he said, ="But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be! "O is my basnet a widow's curch? =Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree? Or my arm a lady's lily hand, =That an English lord should lightly me? "And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, =Against the truce of Border tide? And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch =Is Keeper here on the Scottish side ? "And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, =Withouten either dread or fear? And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch =Can back a steed, or shake a spear? "O were there war between the lands, =As well I wot that there is none, I would slight Carlisle castle high, =Though it were builded of marble stone. "I would set that castle in a lowe, =And sloken it with English blood; There's never a man in Cumberland, =Should ken where Carlisle castle stood. "But since nae war's between the lands, =And there is peace, and peace should be; I'll neither harm English lad or lass, =And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!" He has called him forty marchmen bauld, =I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, called =The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same. He has called him forty marchmen bauld, =Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch: With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, =And gloves of green, and feathers blue. There were five and five before them a', =Wi' hunting-horns and buges bright: And five and five came wi' Buccleuch, =And so they reached the Woodhouselee. And as we crossed the Bateable land, =When to the English side we held, The first o' men that we met wi', =Wha should it be but fause Sakelde? "Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?" =Quo' fause Sakelde; "come, tell to me!" "We go to hunt an English stag, =Has trespassed on the Scots countrie." "Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men?" =Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell me true!" "We got to catch a rank reiver, =Has broken faith wi' the bauld Buccleuch." "Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads, =Wi' a' your ladders, land and hie?" "We gang to herry a corbie's nest, =That wons not far frae Woodhouselee." "Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?" =Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!" Now Dickie or Dryhope led that band, =And the never a word of lear had he. "Why trespass ye on the English side? =Row-footed outlaws, stand!" quo' he; The never a word had Dickie to say, =Sae he thrust the lance through his fause body. Then on we held for Carlisle toun, =And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we crossed; The water was great and meikle of spate, =But the never a horse nor man we lost. And when we reached the Staneshaw-bank, =The wind was rising lound and hie; And there the laird gar'd leave our steeds, =For fear that they should stamp and neigh. And when we left the Staneshaw-bank =The wind began full loud to blaw; But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, =When we came beneath the castle wa'. We crept on knees, and held our breath, =Till we placed the ladders against the wa'; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsel' =To mount the first before us a'. He has ta'en the watchman by the throat, =He flung him down upon the lead— "Had there not been peace between our lands, =Upon the other side thou hadst gaed! "Now sound out, trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch; ="Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!" Then loud the warden's trumpet blew— =_O wha daur meddle wi' me?_ Then speedily to wark we gaed, =And raised the slogan ane and a', And cut a hole through a sheet of lead, =And so we wan to the castle ha'. They thought King James and a' his men =Had won the house wi' bow and spear; It was but twenty Scots and ten, =That put a thousand in sic a steir. Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers, =We gar'd the bars bang merrilie, Until we cam to the inner prison, =Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie. And when we cam to the lower prison, =Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie— "O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, =Upon the morn that thou's to die?" "O I sleep saft, and I wake aft; =It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me! Gie my service back to my wife and bairns, =And a' gude fellows that speir for me." Then Red Rowan has hent him up, =The starkest man in Teviotdale— "Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, =Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell. "Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope! =My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried, "I'll pay you for my lodging mail, =When first we meet on the Borderside." Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, =We bore him down the ladder lang; At every stride Red Rowan made, =I wot the Kinmont's airns played clang. "O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, ="I have ridden horse baith wild and wud; But a rougher beast than Red Rowan =I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode. "And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, ="I've prick'd a horse out owre the furs; But since the day I backed a steed, =I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!" We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, =When a' the Carlisle bells were rung, And a thousand men on horse and foot, =Cam wi' the keen Lord Scroope along. Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, =Even where it flowed frae bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi' a' his band, =And safely swam them through the stream. He turned him on the other side, =And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he— "If ye like na my visit in merry England, =In fair Scotland come visit me!" All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, =He stood as still as rock of stane; He scarcely dared to trow his eyes, =When through the water they had gane. "He is either himsel; a devil frae hell, =Or else his mother a witch maun be; I wadna have ridden that wan water =For a' the gowd in Christentie." 93 - KILLICRANKIE WHARE hae ye been sae braw, lad? =Whare hae ye been sae brankie-o? Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad? =Cam ye by Killicrankie-o? An ye had been whare I hae been, =Ye wadna be sae cantie-o; An ye had seen what I hae seen, =On the braes of Killicrankie-o. I faught at land, I faught at sea, =At hame I faught my auntie-o; But I met the devil and Dundee =On the braes o' Killicrankie-o, The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr; =And Clavers gat a clankie-o, Or I had fed an Athol gled, =On the braes o' Killicrankie-o. O fie, Mackay! what gart ye lie =I' the bush ayont the bankie-o? Ye'd better kiss'd King Willie's loof, =Than come to Killicrankie-o. It's nae shame, it's nae shame— =It's nae shame to shank ye-o; There's sour slaes on Athol braes, =And deils at Killicrankie-o. 94 - KENMURE'S ON AND AWA', WILLIE O, KENMURE'S on and awa', Willie, =Kenmure's on and awa'; And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord =That ever Galloway saw. Success to Kenmure's band, Willie, =Success to Kenmure's band; There's no a heart that fears a Whig =That rides by Kenmure's hand. Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie, =Here's Kenmure's health in wine; There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude, =Nor yet of Gordon's line. O, Kenmure's lads are men, Willie, =O, Kenmure's lads are men; Their hearts and swords are metal true, =And that their faes shall ken. They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie, =They'll live or die wi' fame; And soon wi' sound of victory =May Kenmure's lads come hame! There's a rose in Kenmurees cap, Willie, =A bright sword in his hand— A hundred Gordons at his side, =And hey for English land! Here's him that's far awa', Willie, =Here's him that's far awa' And here's the Rower that I lo'e best, =The rose that's like the snaw. =======_Robert Burns_. 95 - KENMURE ====1715 "THE heather's in a blaze, Willie, =The White Rose decks the tree, The Fiery Cross is on the braes, =And the King is on the sea! "Remember great Montrose, Willie, =Remember fair Dundee, And strike one stroke at the foreign foes =Of the King that's on the sea. "There's Gordons in the north, Willie, =Are rising frank and free, Shall a Kenmure Gordon not go forth =For the King that's on the sea? "A trusty sword to draw, Willie, =A comely weird to dree, For the royal rose that's like the snaw, =And the King that's on the sea!" He cast ae look across his lands, =Looked over loch and lea, He took his fortune in his hands, =For the King was on the sea. Kenmures have fought in Galloway =For Kirk and Presbyt'rie, This Kenmure faced his dying day, =For King James across the sea. It little skills what faith men vaunt, =If loyal men they be To Christ's ain Kirk and Covenant, =Or the King that's o'er the sea. =======_Andrew Lang_. 96 - AWA', WHIGS, AWA' ===AWA', Whigs, awa'! ====Awa', Whigs, awa'! ===Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns, ====Ye'll do nae guid at a'. Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair, =And bonnie bloom'd our roses; But Whigs cam like a frost in June, =And wither'd a' our posies. Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust— =Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't; And write their names in his black beuk =Wha gae the Whigs the power o't! Our sad decay in Church and State =Surpasses my descriving; The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse, =And we hae done wi' thriving. Grim vengeance lang has ta'en a nap, =But we may see him wauken; Gude help the day when royal heads =Are hunted like a maukin! =======_Robert Burns_. 97 - O'ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE ===WE'LL o'er the water and o'er the sea, ====We'll o'er the water to Charlie; ===Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, ====And live and die wi' Charlie. Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er, =Come boat me o'er to Charlie; I'll gie John Ross another bawbee, =To boat me o'er to Charlie. I lo'e weel my Charlie's name, =Tho' some there be abhor him: But O, to see auld Nick gaun hame, =And Charlie's faes before him! I swear and vow by moon and stars, =And sun that shines so early, If I had twenty thousand lives, =I'd die as aft for Charlie. ===We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea, ====We'll o'er the water to Charlie; ===Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, ====And live and die wi' Charlie. =======_Robert Burns_. 98 - LEWIE GORDON =OCH hon! my Highland man, =Och, my bonny Highland man; =Weel would I my true love ken =Among ten thousand Highland men. Oh! send Lewie Gordon hame, And the lad I daurna name; Though his back be at the wa', Here's to him that's far awa'! Oh! to see his tartan trews, Bonnet blue, and laigh-heel'd shoes; Philabeg aboon his knee, That's the lad that I'll gang wi'! =Och hon! my Highland man, =Och, my bonny Highland man; =Weel would I my true love ken =Among ten thousand Highland men. =======_Alexander Geddes_. 99 - DRUMOSSIE MOOR THE lovely lass o' Inverness =Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e'en and morn she cries, "Alas!" =And aye the saut tear blin's her e'e: "Drumossie moor—Drumossie day— =A waefu' day it was to me! For there I lost my father dear, =My father dear, and brethren three. "Their winding sheet the bluidy clay, =Their graves are growing green to see: And by them lies the dearest lad =That ever blest a woman's e'e! "Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, =A bluidy man I trow thou be; For mony a heart thou hast made sair =That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee." =======_Robert Burns_. 100 - WAE'S ME FOR PRINCE CHARLIE A WEE bird cam to our ha' door, =He warbled sweet and clearly, And aye the owre-come o' his sang =Was "Wae's me for Prince Charlie!" O! when I heard the bonnie, bonnie bird, =The tears cam drappin' rarely, I took my bannet aff my head, =For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie. Quo' I, "My bird, my bonnie, bonnie bird, =Is that a tale ye borrow? Or is't some words ye've learnt by rote, =Or a lilt o' dule and sorrow?" "Oh! no, no, no!" the wee bird sang, ="I've flown sin' morning early; But sic a day o' wind and rain!— =Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie! "On hills that are by right his ain, =He roams a lonely stranger; On ilka hand he's pressed by want, =On ilka side by danger. Yestreen I met him in the glen, =My heart near bursted fairly, For sadly changed indeed was he— =Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie! "Dark night cam on, the tempest howled =Out-owre the hills and valleys: And whaur was't that your prince lay down, =Whase hame should been a palace? He row'd him in a Highland plaid, =Which covered him but sparely, And slept beneath a bush o' broom— =Oh! wae's me for Prince Charlie!" But now the bird saw some redcoats, =And he shook his wings wi' anger; "O this is no a land for me, =I'll tarry here nae langer." A while he hovered on the wing, =Ere he departed fairly: But weel I mind the fareweel strain =Was "Wae's me for Prince Charlie!" =======_William Glen_. 101 - LADY KEITH'S LAMENT I MAUN sit in my wee croo house, =At the rock and the reel to toil fu' dreary; I maun think on the day that's gane, =And sigh and sab till I grow weary. I ne'er could brook, I ne'er could brook, =A foreign loon to own or flatter; But I will sing a rantin' sang, =That day our king comes ower the water. O gin I live to see the day, =That I hae begg'd, and begg'd frae Heaven, I'll fling my rock and reel away, =And dance and sing frae morn till even: For there is ane I winna name, =That comes the reignin' byke to scatter; And I'll put on my bridal goun, =That day our king comes ower the water. I hae seen the gude auld day, =The day o' pride and chieftain's glory, When royal Stuarts bare the sway, =And ne'er heard tell o' Whig nor Tory. Though lyart be my locks and grey, =And eild has crook'd me down—what matter! I'll dance and sing ae other day, =The day our king comes ower the water. A curse on dull and drawling Whig, =The whining, ranting, low deceiver, Wi' heart sae black, and look sae big, =And canting tongue o' clish-ma-claver! My father was a gude lord's son, =My mither was an earl's daughter; And I'll be Lady Keith again, =That day our king comes ower the water. 102 - AN OLD SONG ====1750 OH, it's hame, hame, hame, =And it's hame I wadna be, Till the Lord calls King James =To his ain countrie; Bids the wind blaw frae France, =Till the Firth keps the faem, And Loch Garry and Lochiel =Bring Prince Charlie hame. May the lads Prince Charlie led =That were hard on Willie's track, When frae Laffen field he fled, =Wi' the claymore at his back; May they stand on Scottish soil =When the White Rose bears the gree, And the Lord calls the King =To his ain countrie! Bid the seas arise and stand =Like walls on ilka side, Till our Highland lad pass through =With Jehovah for his guide. Dry up the river Forth, =As Thou didst the Red Sea, When Israel cam hame =To his ain countrie. =======_Andrew Lang_. 103 - I CANNA SEE THE SERGEANT I CANNA see the sergeant, I canna see the sergeant, I canna—see the—sergeant, =He's owre far awa'. Bring the wee chap nearer, Bring the wee chap nearer, O bring the—wee chap—nearer— =e's owre bloomin' sma'. We canna see the sergeant, The five foot five inch sergeant, We canna—see the—sergeant =For smoke, and shell, and a.— Now we can see him clearer, Now we can see him nearer— Upon the topmost parapet =He's foremost o' us a'! We canna see the sergeant, The sma', stout-hearted sergeant, We canna—see the—sergeant, He's dead and gone awa'. Bring the wee chap nearer, Bring the wee chap nearer, O, he has grown the dearer =Now that he's far awa'! =======_Joseph Lee_. 104 - ON LEAVE I HAD auchteen months o' the war, =Steel and pouther and reek, Fitsore, weary and wauf— =Syne I got hame for a week. Daft-like I entered the toun, =I scarcely kenned for my ain; I sleepit twae days in my bed, =The third I buried my wean. The wife sat greetin' at hame =While I wandered oot to the hill, My hert as cauld as a stane, =But my heid gaun roond like a mill. I wasna the man I had been- =Juist a gangrel dozin' in fits; The pin had faun oot o' the warld, =And I doddered amang the bits. I clamb to the Lammerlaw =And sat me doun on the cairn; The best o' my freends were deid, =And noo I had buried my bairn; The stink o' the gas in my nose, =The colour o' bluid in my e'e, And the biddin' o' Hell in my lug =To curse my Maker and dee. But up in that gloamin' hour, =On the heather and thymy sod, Wi' the sun gaun doun in the West, =I made my peace wi' God.... ==*=*=*=*=* I saw a thoosand hills, =Green and gowd i' the licht, Roond and backit like sheep, =Huddle into the nicht. But I kenned they werena hills, =But the same as the mounds ye see Doun by the back o' the line =Whaur they bury oor lads that dee. They were juist the same as at Loos, =Whaur we happit Andra and Dave. There was naething in life but death, =And a' the warld was a grave. A' the hills were graves, =The graves o' the deid langsyne, And somewhere oot in the West =Was the grummlin' battle-line. ==*=*=*=*=* But up frae the howe o' the glen =Came the waft o' the simmer e'en The stink gaed oot o' my nose, =And I sniffed it, caller and clean. The smell o' the simmer hills— =Thyme and hinny and heather, Jeniper, birk and fern— =Rose in the lown June weather. It minded me o' auld days, =When I wandered barefit there, Guddlin' troot in the burns, =Howkin' the tod frae his lair. If a' the hills were graves =There was peace for the folk aneath, And peace for the folk abune, =And life in the hert o' death.... ==*=*=*=*=* Up frae the howe o' the glen =Cam the murmur o' wells that creep To swell the heids o' the burns, =And the kindly voices o' sheep; And the cry o' a whaup on the wing, =And a plover seekin' its bield— And oot o' my crazy lugs =Went the din o' the battlefield. ==*=*=*=*=* I flang me doun on my knees =And I prayed as my hert wad break; And I got my answer sune, =For oot o' the nicht God spake. As a man that wauks frae a stound =And kens but a single thocht, Oot o' the wind and the nicht =I got the peace that I socht. Loos and the Lammerlaw, =The battle was feucht in baith, Death was roond and abune, =But life in the hert o' death. A' the warld was a grave, =But the grass on the graves was green, And the stanes were bields for hames, =And the laddies played atween. Kneelin' aside the cairn =On the heather and thymy sod, The place I had kenned as a bairn, =I made my peace wi' God. =======_John Buchan_. 105 - ADDRESS TO THE GERMAN GUN IN THE QUADRANGLE OF EDINBURGH COLLEGE YE grim auld deevil, how's yersel? Oft hae I cursed your snoovin' shell, But since ye've come wi' us tae dwell. =Let bygones be. There's much in common, strange to tell, =‘Tween you an' me. Ye maun hae found it unco queer, Auld Blood an' Iron, comin' here, Whaur these grey massive walls austere =Glower on your muzzle; Weel, mair than you are vexed, I fear, =By that same puzzle. While doon the street the traffic hums, While, like the throb o' distant drums, The myriad voice o' Learnin' bums =Wi' blended drone; Nae doot tae you remembrance comes =O' days noo flown. The worm-like maze o' trenches white, The roarin' day, the unquiet night, The shell, the soarin' signal light, =The pitted plain, The ordered squalor o' the fight =Come back again. Though here sits Reason, throned in state, An' spins her spider-web elate, Secure frae besom-stroke o' Fate =In cloistered glory Yet grimly here your time you wait— =_Memento Mori!_ An' I can aiblins hear you say. _"Thus was it on anither day;_ _Thus did you mortals preach an' pray_ =_Sae glib an' cheery,_ _Till I your douce, weel-ordered way_ =_Dang tapselteerie!_ _"On Learning's mouth I clapped a hand,_ _Your sons came forth at my command,_ _An' all you prayed for, preached an' planned,_ =_My voice made crumble_— _An' noo, nae wiser do ye stand,_ =_An' nae mair humble!"_ Weel, weel, auld Roosty, bide you there A captive's lot is hard to bear; But tell the sage in ilka chair =That your dread reign, The auld, unaltered phrases fair, =Will bring again! =======_W.S. Morrison_.