ROBERT NICOLL. 1814-1837. LIKE Michael Bruce, Robert Nicoll | poems under the title of Poems and was endowed with literary abilities Lyrics. He now gave up his library, which he lacked physical powers to and intended trying his fortune in enable him to bring to maturity. His London; but after remaining some time zeal and enthusiasm may be said to have in Edinburgh, he was appointed editor consumed him; and with his early of the Leeds Times, a Radical newspaper. death raised his fame, as by a wave of His zeal for the success of the paper, friendly sympathy, beyond what any- and the excitement of local politics, thing he has written will maintain. It soon broke his health, and after a short has been said that some of his songs sojourn at Knaresborough, he came have obtained an equal popularity with back to Edinburgh, and died at Trinity the best of Burns's. This can hardly in his twenty-fourth year. He was buried be true in any sense; but if it is implied in North Leith Churchyard, where a that their merits any way approach the memorial stone has recently been placed best of Burns's, nothing could be more over his remains. A memoir of him unjust to Nicoll's fame, or stronger has been written by Mr Smiles, and a evidence of the critic's want of judgment new edition of his poems is (1877) just in such matters than the suggestion of published. such a comparison. He was born at Tullybeltane, Perthshire, on January 7th, 1814. His father was a farmer, but was unsuccessful, and Robert's early education was obtained from his mother, a woman of superior intelligence, and was completed at the parish school. His literary aspirations were very early manifested; and while serving an apprenticeship as a grocer in Perth, he devoted his leisure to study and reading. In 1833, he forwarded a tale to Johnstone's Magazine, which led to his making a visit to Edinburgh, and being introduced to several literary gentlemen who befriended him. In 1834, he started a circulating library in Dundee, and interested himself in local politics as an extreme liberal. In 1835, he published a collection of his (12) THE BONNIE ROWAN BUSH. The bonnie rowan bush In yon lane glen- An' my bluid is thin an' cauld— My Jeanie first I met In yon lane glen- The moon was shinin' sweet, An' our hearts wi' love did beatBy the bonnie, bonnie rowan bush In yon lane glen. 3 B Oh! she promised to be mine In yon lane glen; Her heart she did resign In yon lane glen : An' mony a happy day Did o'er us pass away, Beside the bonnie rowan bush Sax bonnie bairns had we In yon lane glen Lads an' lasses young an' spree In yon lane glen; An' a' blither family Than ours there cou'dna be, Beside the bonnie rowan bush In yon lane glen. Now my auld wife's gane awa' Frae yon lane glen ; An' though simmer sweet doth fa' On yon lane glen, To me its beauty's gane, For alake! I sit alane, Beside the bonnie rowan bush In yon lane glen. JANET MACBEAN. Janet Macbean a public keeps, An' a merry auld wife is she; An' she sells her yill wi' a jaunty air That wad please your heart to see. Her drink's o' the best-she's hearty aye, An' her house is neat an' clean-There's no an auld wife in the public line Can match wi' Janet Macbean. She has aye a curtsey for the laird When he comes to drink his can, There's no an' auld wife in the public line Can match wi' Janet Macbean. The beggar wives gang a' to her, An' she sairs them wi' bread an' cheese, Her bread in bannocks an' cheese in whangs Wi' a blythe gudewill she gi'es. Vow, the kintra-side will miss her sair When she's laid aneath the greenThere's no an auld wife in the public line Can match wi' Janet Macbean. Amang alehouse wives she rules the roast; She puts on her weel hain'd tartan plaid Ilk psalm she lilts, I ween- ANONYMOUS POETRY. HOO THE LASSIE BRAK THE BOWL. [The catastrophe of this poem may not be original, nor the poetry of a high order, yet the characters are drawn with much force and truth, and though not uncommon, have not been previously preserved in verse. We know not if the author is known, for we have never seen the poem in any collection, and have taken it from a newspaper cutting.] Whar Neidpath's wa's wi' pride look doon Ane o' the awfu' cleanin' kind, Whene'er folk cou'dna keep her clues, She heckled them aboot their views; But when their wrath began to boil, She grew real "fear't aboot their sowl." 'Twas queer! (but nocht's sae queer as folk), An' to the workin' she wad yoke John, honest man, had aye to hap, For peacesake, ower the weeshen stap ;1 Ye let nae jaups fa' on the flare; 2 "Some men wad hae the mense to say, An' though I cloucher1 till I'm chokin', She'll gie yer weel-hained gear the air, Ye'll mind the patience I've haen wi ye. Ower weel John kenn'd his hoose was An' keepit like a new-made preen ; preserve us! Ye glaikit gude-for-naething jaud, The lassie sabbit lang an' sair, An' aye her tongue gaed fast an' faster ; " 'Lassie! hoo did ye brak the bowl? "Wheesht! wheesht!" says John, "" nae mair aboot it: Ye monster! will ye tak' her pairt? Patient John heard the endless clack, 44 That's hoo the lassie brak the bowl!" KATE DALRYMPLE. Neglected was she by baith gentle and simple, [We had to use a street version of A blank in the world seemed Kate Dal this capital and not unfamiliar song, In a wee cot house by the side of a muir fend her; Her face had a smack o' the grusome and rymple. But mony are the ups and the downs o' life, And the dice box o' fate turned tapsalteerie, Kate fell heiress to a rich friend's estate, And now for wooers she has nae cause to weary : For the squire came a wooing to Kate The priest scraping, booing, came to Kate rymple. And brags o' her muffs and her ruffs wi' my lady. But still an unco fash to Kate Dalrymple, Was dress and party clash to Kate Dal- She thought that a marrow in life mair A wiggle in her walk had Kate Dalrymple, weaver, And now to the wabster the secret she did tell, Who for love or for interest did kindly re |