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The king of Scots that sindle bruik'd

The war that lukit lyke play, Drew his braid sword and brake his bow, Sen bows seimt but delay.

Quoth noble Rothsay, "Myne I'll keip,
I wate its bleid a skore."

"Haste up, my merry men," cry'd the king, As he rade on before.

The king of Norse he socht to find, With him to mense the feucht; But on his forehead there did licht A sharp unsonsie shaft;

As he his hand put up to find

The wound, an arrow kene,

O waefou chance! there pinn'd his hand In midst betwene his een.

"Revenge! revenge!" cried Rothsay's heir, "Your mail-coat sall nocht byde The strength and sharpness of my dart," Then sent it through his syde.

Another arrow weil he mark'd,

It persit his neck in twa;

His hands then quat the silver reins,
He law as eard did fa'.

"Sair bleids my liege! sair, sair he bleids!" Again with micht he drew,

And gesture dreid, his sturdy bow;
Fast the braid arrow flew:

Wae to the knicht he ettled at;

Lament now quene Elgreid;

Hie dames too wail your darling's fall,
His youth and comely meid.

"Take aff, take aff his costly jupe,

(Of gold weil was it twyn'd,

Knit like the fowler's net, throuch quhilk His steily harnes shynd.)

"Take, Norse, that gift frae me, and bid
Him 'venge the blude it beirs;
Say, if he face my bended bow
He sure nae weapon feirs."

Proud Norse, with giant body tall,
Braid shoulder and arms strong,
Cry'd, "Quhair is Hardyknute sae fam'd,
And feird at Britain's throne?

"Though Britons tremble at his name,
I suue sall mak' him wail,
That eir my sword was made sae sharp,
Sae saft his coat of mail."

That brag his stout heart couldna byde, It lent him youthfou micht: "I'm Hardyknute. This day," he cry'd, "To Scotland's king I hecht

"To lay thee law as horse's hufe, My word I mean to keep."

Syne with the first strake eir he strak He garr'd his body bleid.

Norse ene lyke gray gosehauk's staird wyld,
He sicht with shame and spyte;
"Disgrac'd is now my far-fam'd arm
That left thee power to stryke."

Then gaif his head a blow sae fell,
It made him doun to stoop,
As law as he to ladies usit,
In courtly gyse to lout.

Full sune he rais'd his bent body;
His bow he marvell'd sair,
Sen blaws till then on him but darr'd
As touch of Fairly fair.

Norse ferliet too as sair as he,

To see his stately luke;
Sae sune as eir he strake a fae,
Sae sunc his lyfe he tuke.

Quhair, lyke a fyre to hether set,
Bauld Thomas did advance,
A sturdy fae, with luke enrag'd,
Up towards him did prance:

He spur'd his steid throw thickest ranks,
The hardy youth to quell,

Quha stude unmuvit at his approach,
His furie to repell.

"That schort brown shaft, sae meanly trim'd,
Lukis lyke poor Scotland's geir;
But dreidfull seims the rusty poynt!"
And loud he leuch in jeir.

"Aft Britons blude has dim'd its shyne, This poynt cut short their vaunt;" Syne pierc'd the boisteris bairded cheik, Nae tyme he tuke to taunt.

Schort quhyle he in his sadill swang;
His stirrup was nae stay,
Sae feible hang his unbent knee,
Sure taken he was fey.

Swith on the harden'd clay he fell, Richt far was heard the thud, But Thomas luikt not as he lay All waltering in his blude.

With cairles gesture, mind unmuvit,
On raid he north the plain,
He seimt in thrang of fiercest stryfe,

Quhen winner ay the same.

Nor yit his heart dame's dimpelit cheik
Coud meise saft luve to bruik ;
Till vengeful Ann returned his scorn,
Then languid grew his luke.

In thrawis of death, with wallowit cheik,
All panting on the plain,
The fainting corps of warriours lay,
Neir to aryse again:

Neir to return to native land;

Nae mair with blythsom sounds To boist the glories of the day,

And schaw their shyning wounds.

On Norway's coast the widowit dame
May wash the rocks with teirs,
May lang luke owre the schiples seis
Befoir hir mate appeirs.

Ceise, Emma, ceise to hope in vain,
Thy lord lyis in the clay;
The valyiant Scots nae revers thole
To carry lyfe away.

There on a lie, quhair stands a cross
Set up for monument,
Thousands full fierce that summer's day,
Fill'd kene waris black intent.

Let Scots, quhyle Scots, praise Hardyknute,
Let Norse the name aye dreid;

Ay how he faucht, aft how he spaird,
Sal latest ages reid.

Full loud and chill blew westlin' wind,
Sair beat the heavy showir,
Mirk grew the nicht eir Hardyknute,
Wan neir his stately towir:

His towir that us'd with torch's bleise
To shyne sae far at nicht,

Seim'd now as black as mourning weid;
Nae marvel sair he sich'd.

"Thair's nae licht in my lady's bowir,
Thair's nae licht in my hall;
Nae blink shynes round my Fairly fair,
Nor ward stands on my wall.

"Quhat bodes it? Robert, Thomas, say!"
Nae answer fits their dreid.
"Stand back, my sons, I'll be your gyde;"
But by they past with speid.

"As fast I've sped owre Scotland's faes"-
There ceist his brag of weir,

Sair schamit to mynd ocht but his dame,
And maiden Fairly fair.

Black feir he felt, but quhat to feir,
He wist not yit with dreid;
Sair schuke his body, sair his limbs,
And all the warrior fled.

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SIR JOHN CLERK, second baronet of Penny- | was joint author, in 1726, with Baron Scrope cuik, for nearly half a century one of the barons of the exchequer in Scotland, was born in 1680, and succeeded his father in his title and estates in 1722. He was one of the commissioners for the union, and was recognized as one of the most accomplished men of his time. For twenty years he carried on a correspondence with Roger Gale, the English antiquarian, which appears in Nichol's Bibliotheca Topographica Britannica, and contributed scientific papers to various learned societies.

He

of the Historical View of the Forms and Powers of the Court of Exchequer in Scotland, which was printed at the expense of the barons of exchequer at Edinburgh in 1820, in a large quarto volume. To Sir John are ascribed some amatory lines sent with a flute to Susanna Kennedy, whom he courted unsuccessfully. On attempting to blow the instrument it would not sound, and on uncovering it, the young lady, afterwards Countess of Eglinton, found the following:

"Harmonious pipe, how I envye thy bliss,

When press'd to Sylphia's lips with gentle kiss!
And when her tender fingers round thee move
In soft embrace, I listen and approve

Those melting notes, which soothe my soul to love.
Embalm'd with odours from her breath that flow,
You yield your music when she's pleased to blow;
And thus at once the charming lovely fair
Delights with sounds, with sweets perfumes the air.
Go, happy pipe, and ever mindful be

To court the charming Sylphia for me;

Tell all I feel-you cannot tell too much-
Repeat my love at each soft melting touch;
Since I to her my liberty resign,

Take thou the care to tune her heart to mine."

It was to this lady that Allan Ramsay, in 1726, dedicated his "Gentle Shepherd." The baronet was one of Ramsay's warmest friends, who "admired his genius and knew his

worth." During the poet's latter years much of his time was spent at Pennycuik House, and at his death its master erected at his beautiful family seat an obelisk to Ramsay's memory. Sir John by his second wife had seven sons and six daughters. One of the former was the author of the well-known work on Naval Tactics, and father of the eccentric Lord Eldin, one of Scotland's most eminent lawyers. Sir John died at Pennycuik, October 4, 1755. His extremely humorous and popular song of "The Miller" first appeared in the second volume of Yair's Charmer, published at Edinburgh four years before Sir John's death; and since that date it has been included in almost all collections of Scottish song. The first verse belongs to an older and an anonymous hand.

Merry may the maid be

That marries the miller, For foul day and fair day

He's aye bringing till her;

Has aye a penny in his purse

For dinner and for supper;

THE MILLER.

And gin she please, a good fat cheese,
And lumps of yellow butter.

When Jamie first did woo me,

I speir'd what was his calling; Fair maid, says he, O come and see, Ye're welcome to my dwalling: Though I was shy, yet I cou'd spy

The truth of what he told me,

And that his house was warm and couth, And room in it to hold me.

Behind the door a bag of meal,

And in the kist was plenty

Of good hard cakes his mither bakes, And bannocks were na scanty;

A good fat sow, a sleeky cow
Was standin' in the byre;
While lazy puss with mealy mou
Was playing at the fire.

Good signs are these, my mither says,
And bids me tak' the miller,

For foul day and fair day

He's aye bringing till her;

For meal and malt she does na want,
Nor anything that's dainty;
And noo and then a keckling hen
To lay her eggs in plenty.

In winter when the wind and rain
Blaws o'er the house and byre,
He sits beside a clean hearth stane
Before a rousing fire,

With nut-brown ale he lilts his tale,
Which rows him o'er fu' happy:
Who'd be a king-a petty thing,
When a miller lives so happy?

ALLAN RAMSAY.

BORN 1686-DIED 1757

ALLAN RAMSAY, the restorer of Scottish by the father's side from the Ramsays of Dalpoetry, was born Oct. 15, 1686, in the village of Leadhills, Lanarkshire. He was descended

housie, a genealogy of which he speaks in one of his pieces with conscious pride:

"Dalhousie, of an auld descent

My chief, my stoupe, and ornament!"

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"Gae spread my fame,

And fix me an immortal name;

they were composed, in which shape they found a ready sale, the citizens being in the habit His father, John Ramsay, was superintendent of sending their children with a penny for of Lord Hopetoun's mines at Leadhills; and 'Allan Ramsay's last piece." In 1720 he his mother, Alice Bowers, was the daughter opened a subscription for a collection of his of a gentleman of Derbyshire, who had been poems in a quarto volume, and the liberal invited to Leadhills to assist by his skill in manner in which it was immediately filled up the introduction of some improvements in the by "all who were either eminent or fair in art of mining. Allan, while yet an infant, Scotland" affords a striking proof of the esteem lost his father, who died at the early age of in which the whilom wig-maker was now held. twenty-five. His mother soon after married The volume, which cleared him 400 guineas, a Mr. Crichton, a small landholder in Lanark closed with an address by the author to his shire. He was sent to the village school, book after the manner of Horace, in which he where he acquired learning enough, as he tells thus boldly speaks of his hopes:us, to read Horace "faintly in the original." In the year 1700 he lost his mother, and his step-father was not long in discovering that he was old enough to take care of himself. He took Allan to Edinburgh, and apprenticed him to a wig-maker, an occupation which most of his biographers are very anxious to distinguish from a barber. The vocation of a "skull-thacker," as Ramsay humorously calls it, would appear not to have been so uncongenial as his biographers would have us believe, as it is certain that he did not abandon it when his apprenticeship ceased, but followed it for many years after. In the parish registers he is called a wig-maker down to 1716. Four years previous to this he married Christian Ross, a writer's daughter, with whom he lived most happily for a period of thirty years.

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Ages to come shall thee revive,
And gar thee with new honours live.
The future critics, I foresee,

Shall have their notes on notes on thee;
The wits unborn shall beauties find
That never entered in my mind."

In 1724 the poet published the first volume of the Tea-table Miscellany, a collection of songs Scottish and English, which was speedily followed by a second; a third volume appeared in 1727, and a fourth after another interval. This publication acquired him more profit than lasting fame, passing through no less than twelve editions in a few years. This was followed by "The Evergreen : being a Collection of Scots Poems, wrote by the Ingenious before 1600," in two volumes. This work did him even less credit as an editor than the Teatable Miscellany had done. Lord Hailes says with truth that he took great liberty with

The earliest of his poems which can now be traced is an epistle addressed in 1712" To the Most Happy Members of the Easy Club," a convivial society, of which in 1715 he was appointed poet-laureate; but it was soon after, the originals, omitting some stanzas and addbroken up by the Rebellion. In 1716 Ramsay ing others; modernizing at the same time published an edition of James I.'s poem of the versification, and varying the ancient Christ's Kirk on the Green," with a second manner of spelling. Ramsay availed himself canto by himself, to which, two years after, of the opportunity of concealment afforded by he added a third. The wit, fancy, and perfect this publication to give expression in a poem mastery of the Scottish language which his, of pretended antiquity, and with a feigned additions to the king's poem displayed, greatly | signature, to those Jacobite feelings which extended his reputation as a poet. Abandon- prudence led him to conceal. It was called ing his original occupation, he entered upon The Vision," and said to be "compylit in the more congenial business of bookselling. Latin be a most lernit clerk in tyme of our His first shop was "at the sign of the Mercury, hairship and opression, anno 1300, and transopposite to Niddry's Wynd," Edinburgh. Here latit in 1524." The pretended subject was the he appears to have represented the threefold "history of the Scots sufferings by the character of author, editor, and bookseller. unworthy condescension of Baliol to Edward I. His poems were printed on single sheets as of England till they recovered their indepen

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