She blanches the hue of my cheek, And exposes my desperate love; The step, 'twas a pleasure to trace, Even that has withdrawn from the scene; And, now, not a breeze can displace A leaf from its summit of green, So prostrate and fallen to lie, So far from the branch where it hung, As, in dust and in helplessness, I, From the hope to which passion had clung. Yet, benison bide! where thy choice Deems its bliss and its treasure secure, May the months in thy blessings rejoice, While their rise and their wane shall endure! For me, a poor warrior, in blood The weapons of rivalry gone. Yet, cruel to mock me, the base Their toil and their travail, is hard. Since one, a bold yeoman, ne'er drew And I-ah! they should not compel And now it is over-the heart That bounded, the hearing that thrill'd, In the song-fight shall never take part, And weakness gives warning to yield. As the discord that raves 'neath the cloud, That is raised by the dash of the spray When waters are battling aloud, Bewilderment bears me away. And to measure the song in its charm, Or to handle the viol with skill, Or beauty with carols to warm, Gone for ever, the power and the will. No never, no never, ascend To the mountain-pass glories shall I, In the cheer of the chase to unbend; Enough, it is left but to die. And yet, shall I go to my rest, Where the dead of my brothers repair— To the hall of the bards not unblest, That their worthies before me are there? WILLIAM REID. BORN 1764 DIED 1831. WILLIAM REID, a bookseller and publisher, who had a happy gift of successfully adding verses to already popular poems and songs, was born at Glasgow, April 10, 1764. education was limited to the English branches, His and at the age of fifteen he became a bookseller's apprentice. In 1790 he formed a partnership with his friend James Brash, and entered upon the career of bookseller and publisher, the firm being Brash and Reid. Their shop soon became a resort of the authors and | he detailed with a gusto altogether his own. poets of that period, and among the number Of all things he loved a joke, and indulged in of Reid's friends was Robert Burns, who was this vein even at the risk of causing the mooften amused by the bookseller's little rhymes. mentary displeasure either of an acquaintance One of these trifles, which happens to have or a customer; we say momentary, for, with been preserved by the writer's father, was com- all his jesting and jocularity, he never really posed on the occasion of a bookseller opening said, we believe, one word which was meant to a new shop in Glasgow with an extensive col-offend. To laugh and grow fat' was his lection of divinity: "Ye that would mend your faith and hope, Between 1795 and 1798 Brash and Reid published in numbers Poetry Original and Selected, which at the end of four years ex tended to four small volumes. To this work, which is now exceedingly rare, Reid and his partner made numerous original contributions. The former is remembered in his native city as a highly respectable business man, an enthusiastic patron of poets and other literati, and as a genial companion, overflowing with wit and humour. Dr. Strang, in his agreeable volume Glasgow and its Clubs, remarks of Reid that, “To a peculiarly placid temper he united a strong smack of broad humour, and an endless string of personal anecdotes, which constant motto, and consequently he never troubled himself either about his own obesity, or about that of any one else who might follow his laughing example." After a prosperous business career of more than forty years William Reid died in his native city, Nov. 29, 1831, deeply regretted by troops of friends and admirers, for while living his love of fun and frolic "aye gat him friends in ilka place." He wrote few complete pieces, his peculiar gift being the addition of stanzas to successful Scottish songs and poems, among which may be mentioned the ill-fated Fergusson's "Lea Rig," and Burns' "John Anderson" and "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw," all of which appear among the following selections from Reid's writings. Other versions of " Kate o' Gowrie" and "Cauld Kail in Aberdeen" will be found elsewhere in this Work. When Katie was scarce out nineteen Quo' she, "I winna marry thee, For a' the gowd in Gowrie. "Oh, my dear Katie, say nae sae! Since first I met thee at the shiel, "I fear nae want o' claes nor nocht, I lo'e thee better, Kate, my dear, Thou'rt worth the Carse o' Gowrie." The auld folk syne baith gi'ed consent; The priest was ca'd: a' were content; And Katie never did repent That she gaed hame to Gowrie. For routh o' bonnie bairns had she; Mair strapping lads ye wadna see; And her braw lasses bore the gree Frae a' the rest o' Gowrie, CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN, There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, And bannocks in Strathbogie, But naething drives away the spleen Sae weel's a social cogie. That mortal's life nae pleasure shares Wha broods o'er a' that's fogie; Whane'er I'm fash't wi' worldly cares, I drown them in a cogie. Thus merrily my time I pass, With spirits brisk and vogie, Blest wi' my buiks and my sweet lass, My cronies and my cogie. Then haste and gi'e's an auld Scots sang Sic like as Kathrine Ogie; A gude auld sang comes never wrang, When o'er a social cogie. JOHN ANDERSON,1 John Anderson, my jo, John, John Anderson, my jo. John, When Nature first began To try her canny hand, John, Her masterpiece was man; And you amang them a', John, Sae trig frae tap to toeShe proved to be nae journeywark, John Anderson, my jo. 1 In a collection of poetry published by Brash and Reid is given what is called an improved version of this song, consisting of six stanzas, said to be the production of Burus. He wrote the second and fourth verses (see page 370), the above are from the pen of Reid. -ED. John Anderson, my jo, John, Ye were my first conceit; But I think ye're aye the same to me, John Anderson, my jo, John, We've seen our bairns' bairns; I'm sure ye'll ne'er say no; Tho' the days are gane that we have seen, John Anderson, my jo. THE LEA-RIG.2 Will ye gang o'er the lea-rig, Wi' me, my kind dearie, O! Nae herds wi' kent or collic there, Shall woo, like me, their dearie, O! At gloamin' if my lane I be, Oh, but I'm wondrous eerie, O! And mony a heavy sigh I gi'e, When absent frae my dearie, O! But seated 'neath the milk-white thorn, In ev'ning fair and clearie, O! Enraptured, a' my cares I scorn, When wi' my kind dearie, O! Whar through the birks the burnie rows, Aft hae I sat fu' cheerie, O! I've courted till I've heard the craw Of honest chanticleerie, O! ? The first two stanzas of this song were written by Robert Fergusson.-ED. Yet never missed my sleep ava, When wi' my kind dearie, O! For though the night were ne'er sae dark, And I were ne'er sae weary, O! I'd meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O! This wilderness sae dreary, O! What makes me blythe. and keeps me sae? 'Tis thee, my kind dearie, O! FAIR MODEST FLOWER. Fair modest flower, of matchless worth! To whom thy heaving boson warms; Possess'd of beauty, love, and truth, He'll clasp an angel in his arms. Though storms of life were blowing snell, And on his brow sat brooding care, Thy seraph smile would quick dispel OF A' THE AIRTS. Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde Baith sage and gay confess it sae, The gamesome lamb that sucks its dam She has nae faut, if sic ye ca't, The sparkling dew, o' clearest hue, In shape and air wha can compare JAMES GRAHAME. BORN 1765 DIED 1811. JAMES GRAHAME, whose principal poem will long endear his name to all who can appreciate the devout thoughts and poetic feeling which it inspires, was born at Glasgow, April 22, 1765. After passing through a regular academical course at the university of his native city, he entered the law office of his cousin, Laurence Hill, of Edinburgh. His own wishes would have led him to the church, but the youthful poet passively acquiesced in his father's decision. In 1791 he became a member of the Society of Writers to the Signet; but the confinement to his desk being found injurious to his health, which was always delicate, he turned his attention to the bar, and in March, 1793, was admitted as a member of the Faculty of Advocates. Three years later he married the daughter of Richard Grahame, Esq., of Annan. While at the Glasgow University, young Grahame issued a collection of his poems, which in an amended form appeared in 1797; and four years later he published, "Mary Stuart, an Historical Drama," which, although it contains numerous fine passages, failed in commanding much attention. "The Sabbath," the best of his productions, and the one on which his reputation rests, made its appearance anonymously in 1804. So cautious was Grahame that he should not be known as the author, that he exacted a promise of secrecy from the printer, whom he was in the habit of meeting clandestinely, at obscure coffee houses, in order to correct the proofs, but never twice at the same place, lest they should attract observation. The secret was even concealed from his own family, and the mode he took to communicate it to Mrs. Grahame presents a pleasing picture of his amiable and diffident disposition. On its publication the poet brought the book home with him and left it on the parlour table. Returning soon after he found his wife engaged in its perusal but without venturing to ask her opinion, he continued to walk up and down the room in breathless anxiety, till she burst out with the warmest eulogium on the performance, adding, "Ah, James, if you could but produce a poem like this!" The acknowledgment of the authorship, and the hearing of the acknowledgment, must, under such cireumstances, have afforded exquisite pleasure to both. "The Sabbath" was subjected to a severe ordeal of criticism in the Edinburgh Review; but the critic afterwards made ample atonement to the wounded feelings of the poet and his friends, in reviewing his subsequent work, the "British Georgics," an example which it would have been well for Byron to have imitated, by expressing regret for the wanton and cruel attack made on the poem and its gentle author when he called it a "volume of cant by sepulchral Grahame." The world would not have been the loser if his lordship, in lieu of 66 Don Juan" and other similar productions, had written some of the same kind of "cant." In 1805 a second edition of "The Sabbath" was published, to which Grahame added "Sabbath Walks;" and such had become the popularity of the poem, that three editions were sold the same year. Robert Southey, who greatly admired it, said, "While the criticasters of his own country were pronouncing sentence of condemnation upon it for its pious dulness and inanity, The Sabbath' had found its way from one end of Great Britain to the other." In 1806 Grahame gave to the world another delightful poem, The Birds of Scotland," containing pictures of the charming creatures, with descriptions of their haunts and habits almost rivalling in graphic fidelity those of Audubon and Alexander Wilson. It was written at Kirkhall, a beautiful and retired spot on the banks of the Esk, where he resided during two successive summers. It was near the ruins of the once splendid residence of the sanguinary Mackenzie,1and the humble cottage 1 Sir George Mackenz'e, lord-advocate of Scotland from 1674 to 1686, notorious for the part he played in the religious persecutions. of John Kilgour, whom he has in his poem so interestingly contrasted. It is also in the same beautiful poem that he makes allusion to the youthful days spent at his father's cottage on the romantic banks of the Cart, showing that those happy days were still fresh and green in his memory:— "I love thee, pretty bird !2 for 'twas thy nest The most ambitious, but the least interesting of Grahame's works, entitled the "British Georgics," appeared in 1809. "No practical farmer," wrote Lord Jeffrey, "will ever submit to be schooled in blank verse, however near it may approach to prose, or will ever condescend to look into the 'British Georgics' for instruction; while the lovers of poetry must be very generally disgusted by the tediousness of those discourses on practical husbandry which break in every now and then, so ungracefully, on the loftier strains of the poet. They who do read on, however, will be rewarded, we think, by many very pleasing and beautiful passages; and even those whose natures are too ungentle to admire this kind of poetry must love the character from which it proceeds, and which it has so strong a tendency to form." At this period Grahame's original desire of entering the church was revived with irresistible power, and his father's death having relieved him from all wish to continue in the law, he proceeded to London in May, 1809, where he was soon after ordained by the Bishop of Norwich. He was appointed to the curacy of Shefton Mayne, in Gloucestershire, and was afterwards settled for some time in the parish of Sedgefield. Declining health induced him to visit Edinburgh for medical advice, and after a brief sojourn there he proceeded to Whitehall, the seat of his eldest brother, where 2 The yellow hammer. |