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by her intellectual attainments and her great | sound morality, yet that the love of those sweet love of music, was married to William Murray Nairne of the British army, who, in 1824, received the family title of Baron Nairne. The act of Parliament removing the attainder of the family was passed owing to the recommendation of George IV., who learned, during his visit to Scotland in 1822, that the song of "The Attainted Scottish Nobles" was the composition of Lady Nairne. On the 9th of July, 1830, she lost her husband,' and seven years later her only son died in Brussels, where he had gone in company with the baroness for his health. Deprived of both husband and son-the latter a young gentleman of great promise-Lady Nairne, though submitting to the dispensation of Heaven with becoming resignation, did not regain her usual buoyancy of spirit. She was rapidly falling into "the sere, the yellow leaf"-those years in which the words of the inspired sage, "I have no pleasure in them," are too often called forth by mental trials and bodily infirmities. But she bore up nobly. In one of her letters, dated 1840, she says: "I sometimes say to myself, This is no me,' so greatly have my feelings and trains of thought changed since 'auld lang syne;' and though I am made to know assuredly that all is well, I scarcely dare to allow my mind to settle on the past.

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To this period of her life we owe the ode, "Would you be young again?" and several of her compositions breathing a deeply devotional spirit; "The Laird o' Cockpen," and other humorous and popular songs, having been written previous to her marriage in 1806. Carolina Baroness Nairne died in the same mansion in which she was born, on the 26th of October, 1845, at the advanced age of seventy-nine.

Lady Nairne was a prolific writer of Scottish songs and ballads, and in her later years wrote poems expressive of the pious resignation and Christian hope of the author, which, however, appeared anonymously, as her extreme diffidence and modesty shrank from all publicity, She neither wrote for gain or fame, but from a far higher motive. A Scottish writer says: "She knew that the minstrels of ruder times had composed, and, through the aid of the national melodies, transmitted to posterity strains ill fitted to promote the interests of

and wild airs made the people tenacious of the
words to which they were wedded. Her prin-
cipal, if not her sole object, was to disjoin
these, and to supplant the impurer strains.
Doubtless that capacity of genius which enabled
her to write as she has done might, as an in-
herent stimulus, urge her to seek gratification
in the exercise of it; but even in this case,
the virtue of her main motive underwent no
diminution. She was well aware how deeply
the Scottish heart imbibed the sentiments of
song, so that these became a portion of its na-
ture, or of the principles upon which the indi-
viduals acted, however unconsciously, amid
the intercourse of life. Lessons could thus be
taught which could not, perhaps, be commu-
nicated with the same effect by any other
means. This pleasing agency of education in
the school of moral refinement Lady Nairne
has exercised with genial tact and great beauty;
and liberally as she bestowed benefactions
on her fellow-kind in many other respects,
it may be said no gifts conferred could bear
in their beneficial effects a comparison to the
songs which she has written. Her strains
thrilled along the chords of a common nature,
beguiling ruder thoughts into a more tender
and generous tone, and lifting up the lower
towards the loftier feeling."

The benevolence of Lady Nairne was not confined to the purification of the national minstrelsy, but extended towards the support of many of the philanthropic institutions of her native land, which in her judgment were promoting the temporal comforts, or advancing the spiritual interests of the Scottish people. Her contributions to public as well as private charities were very liberal. In an address delivered by Dr. Chalmers a few weeks after her death, referring to the exertions which had been made for the supply of religious instruction in a certain district of Edinburgh, known as the West Port, he made the following remarks regarding Lady Nairne:-"Let me speak now as to the countenance we have received. I am now at liberty to mention a very noble benefaction which I received about a year ago. Inquiry was made of me by a lady, mentioning that she had a sum at her disposal, and that she wished to apply it to charitable purposes; and she wanted me to enumerate a list of chari

table objects in proportion to the estimate I had of their value. Accordingly I furnished her with a scale of five or six charitable objects. The highest in the scale were those institutions which had for their design the Christianizing of the people at home; and I also mentioned to her, in connection with the Christianizing at home, what we were doing at the West Port; and there came to me from her, in the course of a day or two, no less a sum than £300. She is now dead; she is now in her grave, and her works do follow her. When she gave me this noble benefaction, she laid me under strict injunctions of secrecy, and, accordingly, I did not mention her name to any person; but after she was dead, I begged of her nearest heir that I might be allowed to proclaim it, because I thought that her example, so worthy to be followed, might | influence others in imitating her; and I am happy to say that I am now at liberty to state that it was Lady Nairne of Perthshire. It enabled us, at an expense of £330, to purchase sites for schools and a church; and we have

got a site in the very heart of the locality, with a very considerable extent of ground for a washing-green, a washing-house, and a playground for the children, so that we are a good step in advance towards the completion of our parochial economy."

Some years after Lady Nairne's death, the relations and literary friends of the deceased, thinking very correctly that there was no longer any reason for withholding from the public the secret of the authorship of her numerous charming compositions, published an elegant volume, entitled "Lays from Strathearn; by Carolina Baroness Nairne," containing about one hundred of her songs and ballads, the most popular of which are, 'The Land o' the Leal;" "The Laird o' Cockpen "—lays that the world will not willingly let die. In 1869 another volume appeared, called, “Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne; with a Memoir and Poems of Carolina Oliphant, the Younger, edited by Rev. Charles Rogers, LL.D., F.S. A. Scot.;" accompanied by a portrait and other illustrations.

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THE PLEUGHMAN.

There's high and low, there's rich and poor,
There's trades and crafts enew, man;
But, east and west, his trade's the best
That kens to guide the pleugh, man.
Then come weel speed my pleughman lad,
And hey my merry pleughman;
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the pleughman.

His dreams are sweet upon his bed,
His cares are light and few, man;
His mother's blessing's on his head,
That tents her weel, the pleughman.
Then come weel speed, &c.

The lark sae sweet, that starts to meet
The morning fresh and new, man:
Blythe though she be, as blythe is he
That sings as sweet, the pleughman,
Then come weel speed, &c.

All fresh and gay, at dawn of day

Their labours they renew, man;

Heaven bless the seed, and bless the soil,
And Heaven bless the pleughman.
Then come weel speed, &c.

CALLER HERRIN'.1

Wha'll buy caller herrin'?
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';
Wha'll buy caller herrin',
New drawn frae the Forth?

When ye were sleepin' on your pillows,
Dream'd ye ought o' our puir fellows,
Darkling as they faced the billows,
A' to fill the woven willows.

Buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?

They're no brought here without brave daring; Buy my caller herrin',

Haul'd thro' wind and rain.

Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin'!
Wives and mithers, maist despairin',
Ca' them lives o' men.

Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

1 This song was written for Nathaniel Gow son of the celebrated Neil Gow.-Ed.

When the creel o' herrin' passes,
Ladies, clad in silk and laces,
Gather in their braw pelisses,

Cast their heads, and screw their faces.
Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

Caller herrin's no got lightlie;
Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie;
Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin',
Gow has set you a' a-singin'.

Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

Neebour wives, now tent my tellin',
When the bonnie fish ye're sellin',
At ae word be in yer dealin'-
Truth will stand when a thing's failin'.
Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN.1

The Laird o' Cockpen he's proud and he's great,
His mind is ta'en up wi' the things o' the state;
He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,
But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek.

Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,
At his table-head he thought she'd look well;
M'Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee,
A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.

His wig was weel pouther'd, and as gude as new,
His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;
He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat,
And wha' could refuse the Laird wi' a' that?

He took the gray mare, and rade cannily--
And rapp'd at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee;
"Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen."

Mistress Jean was makin' the elder-flower wine,
"And what brings the Laird at sic a like time?"
She put aff her apron and on her silk gown,
Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' down.

And when she cam' ben, he bowed fu' low,
And what was his errand he soon let her know;
Amazed was the Laird when the lady said "Na;"
And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'.

Dumbfounder'd he was, nae sigh did he gie; He mounted his mare- -he rade cannily;

The two last stanzas were added, to complete the song, by Miss Mary Ferrier, authoress of Marriage, Inheritance, and Destiny,-novels that were greatly admired by Sir Walter Scott.-Ed.

And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen,

She's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen.

And now that the Laird his exit had made, Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had sail; "Oh! for ane I'll get better, it's waur I'll get ten, I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen."

Next time that the Laird and the Lady were seen. They were gaun arm-in-arm to the kirk on the

green;

Now she sits in the ha' like a weel-tappit hen, But as yet there's nae chickens appeared at Cockpen.

GUDE NICHT, AND JOY BE WI YE A'!

The best o' joys maun hae an end,

The best o' friends maun part, I trow; The langest day will wear away,

And I maun bid farewell to you. The tear will tell when hearts are fu”, For words, gin they hae sense ava, They're broken, faltering, and few: Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'!

Oh, we hae wander'd far and wide,

O'er Scotia's lands o' frith and fell! And mony a simple flower we've pu'd,

And twined it wi' the heather-bell. We've ranged the dingle and the dell,

The cot house, and the baron's ha'; Now we maun tak a last farewell:

Gude nicht, and joy be wi' ye a'!

My harp farewell! thy strains are past,

Of gleefu' mirth, and heartfelt care; The voice of song maun cease at last,

And minstrelsy itsel' decay. But, oh! whar sorrow canna win,

Nor parting tears are shed ava', May we meet neighbor, kith, and kin, And joy for aye be wi' us a'!

THE HUNDRED PIPERS.

Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a',.
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a';
We'll up and gie them a blaw, a blaw,
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'.
Oh! it's owre the Border awa', awa',
It's owre the Border awa', awa';
We'll on and we'll march to Carlisle ha',
Wi' its yetts, its castell, an' a', an' a'.

Oh! our sodger lads looked braw, looked braw,
Wi' their tartans, kilts an a', an' a',

Wi' their bonnets, an' feathers, an' glittering gear,
An' pibrochs sounding sweet and clear.
Will they a' return to their ain dear glen?
Will they a' return, our Hieland men?
Second-sighted Sandy looked fu' wae,

And mothers grat when they marched away.
Wi' a hundred pipers, &c.

Oh wha is foremost o' a', o' a'?

Oh wha does follow the blaw, the blaw?
Bonnie Charlie the king o' us a', hurra!
Wi' his hundred pipers an' a', an' a'.
His bonnet and feather, he's wavin' high,
His prancin' steed maist seems to fly,
The nor' wind plays wi' his curly hair,
While the pipers blaw in an' unco flare.
Wi' a hundred pipers, &c.

The Esk was swollen sae red and sae deep,
But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep:
Twa thousand swam owre to fill English ground,
And danced themselves dry to the pibroch's
sound.

Dumfounder'd the English saw-they saw-
Dumfounder'd they heard the blaw, the blaw,
Dumfounder'd they ran awa', awa,
From the hundred pipers an' a', an' a.

Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a',
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a';
We'll up and gie them a blaw, a blaw,
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'.

THE LAND O' THE LEAL.1

I'm wearin' awa', John,

Like snaw wreaths in thaw, John:
I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there, John; There's neither cauld nor care, John; The day's aye fair

I' the land o' the leal.

1 This beautiful lyric appeared in print soon after the death of Burns, and in its more popular version was supposed to express his dying thoughts, although in its original form there is no trace of such an intention on the part of Lady Nairne. Dr. Rogers states that it was written in 1798, on the death of the eldest child of her friends Mr. and Mrs. Colquhoun of Killermont. The following is the popular, and perhaps improved, version:-Ed.

I'm wearin' awa', Jean,

Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean,

I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, John;
She was baith gude and fair, John;
And, oh we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal.
But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
And joy's a-comin' fast, John-
The joy that's aye to last

In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear's that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu' man e'er brought

To the land o' the leal.
Oh, dry your glist'ning ee, John!
My saul langs to be free, John;
And angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.

Oh, haud ye leal and true, John! Your day it's wearin' thro', John; And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal. Now fare ye weel, my ain John, This warld's cares are vain, John; We'll meet, and we'll be fain, In the land o' the leal.

SAW YE NAE MY PEGGY?

Saw ye nae my Peggy?
Saw ye nae my Peggy?

Saw ye nae my Peggy comin'

Through Tillibelton's broom?

I'm frae Aberdagie,
Ower the crafts o' Craigie,
For aught I ken o' Peggy,
She's ayont the moon.

There's nae sorrow there, Jean; There's neither cauld nor care, Jean; The day is aye fair

In the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean; She was baith gude and fair, Jean; And oh! we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal. But sorrow's sel' wears past, Jean, And joy is coming fast, JeanThe joy that's aye to last

In the land o' the leal.

Ye were aye leal and true, Jean, Your task's ended now, Jean, And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.

Now fare you well, my ain Jean; This warld's care is vain, Jean; We'll meet and will be fain

In the land o' the leal.

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'Twas but at the dawin',

Clear the cock was crawin',

I saw Peggy cawin'

Hawkie by the brier. Early bells were ringin', Blythest birds were singin', Sweetest flowers were springin', A' her heart to cheer.

Now the tempest's blawin',
Almond water's flowin'
Deep and ford unknowin',
She maun cross the day.
Almond waters, spare her,
Safe to Lynedoch bear her!
Its braes ne'er saw a fairer,
Bess Bell nor Mary Gray.

Oh, now to be wi' her!
Or but ance to see her
Skaithless, far or near,

I'd gie Scotland's crown.
Byeword, blind's a lover-
Wha's yon I discover?
Just yer ain fair rover,
Stately stappin' down.

CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.

There's cauld kail in Aberdeen,

There's castocks in Strabogie:

And morn and e'en, they're blythe and bein,
That haud them frac the cogie.
Now, haud ye frae the cogie, lads:
O bide ye frae the cogie!

I'll tell ye true, ye'll never rue,
O' passin' by the cogie.

Young Will was braw and weel put on:
Sae blythe was he and vogie;
And he got bonnie Mary Don,
The flower o' a' Strabogie.

Wha wad hae thocht at wooin' time.
He'd e'er forsaken Mary.
And ta'en him to the tipplin' trade.
Wi' boozin Rob and Harry?

Sair Mary wrought, sair Mary grat.
She scarce could lift the ladle:
Wi' pithless feet, 'tween ilka greet,
She'd rock the borrow'd cradle.
Her weddin' plenishin' was gane,
She never thocht to borrow:
Her bonnie face was waxin' wan-
And Will wrought a' the sorrow.

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