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THE

BALLADS AND SONGS

OF AYRSHIRE,
ILLUSTRATED WITH

SKETCHES, HISTORICAL, TRADITIONAL,

NARRATIVE AND BIOGRAPHICAL.

Old King Coul was a merry old soul,

And a jolly old soul was he ;

Old King Coul he had a brown bowl,

And they brought him in fiddlers three.'

EDINBURGH:
THOMAS G. STEVENSON,
HISTORICAL AND ANTIQUARIAN BOOKSELLEK,
87 PRINCES STREET.

MDCCCXLVII.

9
 — ; —

mmoDucTioN.

—
Renfrewshike has her Harp why not Ayrshire her Lyre? The land
that gave birth to Burns may well claim the distinction of a separate Re-
pository for the Ballads and Songs which belong to it. In this, the First
Series, it hanS been the chief object of the Editor to gather together the
older lyrical productions connected with the county, intermixed with a
slight sprinkling of the more recent, by way of lightsome variation. The
aim of the work is to collect those pieces, ancient and modern, which,
scattered throughout various publications, are inaccessible to many
readers ; and to glean from oral recitation the floating relics of a former
age that still exist in living remembrance, as well as to supply such in-
formation respecting the subject or author as maybe deemed interesting.
—
The songs of Burns save, perhaps, a few of the more rare having been —
already collected in numerous editions, and consequently well known, will
i form no part of the Repository. In distinguishing the Ballads and Songs
? of Ayrshire, the Editor has been, and will be, guided by the connec-
tion they have with the district, either as to the author or subject ; and
now that the First Series is before the public, he trusts that, whatever
I may be its defects, the credit at least will be given him of aiming, how-
ever feebly, at the construction of a lasting monument of the lyrical
I

I
literature of Ayrshire. He hopes farther, should encouragement be
i vouchsafed to go on with the collection, that all interested in the labour
I
he has imposed upon himself, and who have it in their power, will be wil-
^ by " throwing a stone to the cairn."
ling to assist
5 Ayrshire has probably been more deficient in musical composers than
? in poets, or ballad writers. Amongst the earliest of the latter, of whom
^
we find any notice, is "the gude Schir Hew of Eglintoun," mentioned in
( Dunbar's " Lament for the Death of the Makars," which poem must have
< been written before 1508, when it appeared in Millar and Chepman's Mis-
celJany. Schir Hew is understood to have been the last of the old Eg-
I
lintons of Eglinton, whose daughter was espoused by John de Montgomerie
I

of Egleshame. He is conjectured to have written the romances of " Ar-

thur " and " Gawan," and the " Epistle of Susanna," pieces not known
I

I
their names only being preserved in Wintoun's Chronicle. Walter Ken-
nedy is another of the Ayrshire "Makars" mentioned in Dunbar's La-
ment
" Gud Maister Walter Kennedy,
In poynt of dede lyis veraly,
Gret reuth it -nrer that so suld be
Timor mortis conturbat me."
Some particulars of Kennedy and his writings will be found in the follow-
ing pages. So of Montgomerie, author of the " Cherrie and the Slae,"
Hamilton of Gilbertfield, &c. In later times Ayrshire can boast of the
name of Burns, Boswell, and a host of living "Makars," who, when the
I
flight of time has tlirown a halo round theii- memories, will be regarded
J

i as writers of no common merit.

Fate has not been so favourable to our composers of music as to our
Makars " of poetry. Few of the names of the earlier race of them are
'•'

I
even known. The greater number of our most beautiful melodies are
 INTRODUCTION.

without paternity, and cannot be assigned to anj^ particular district of

the country. A distinction has no doubt been attempted to be drawn be- i

tween Highland and Lowland music but this cannot well be sustained in
;
\

the face of the fact that, until comparatively recent times, the bagpipe 5

was the prevailing instrument in the Lowlands as well as the Highlands. 5

Every burgh, town, village and baron had their piper or pipers. Ayr |

had her "minstrels,"' as the town's pipers w^ere called, in 1558;* and \

within living remembrance many small burghs and villages retained their ^

civic musician. Thus it woiUd be difficult to say whether those beauti- i

tiful pipe tunes which have been altered to suit more modern instruments I

and tastes, or which have been gleaned in the Highlands, where the bag- ]

pipe has no doubt lingered longer, and in greater perfection than in the I

Lowlands, belonged originally to this or the other side of the Grampians ; j

and consequently it would be equally hard to say whether any of them |

can be claimed by Ayrshire. All that can be said is that not a few of i

them were popular in Ayrshire from the earliest times; and either were |

originally, or had become in progress of time, so peculiar to the district, \

that the musical world was ignorant of them until brought to light by the ^
contributions of Burns to Johnson's Museum. These might be particu- i

larised, were the works of Burns not so universally known. It may not
\

be uninteresting to mention that several tunes and songs are incidentally <

referred to in the Presbytery books of Ayr, which are still popular, and \
were so upwards of a hundred years ago. For instance, in 1720, John i

Chalmers of Burnton, and others in the parish of Dalmellington, were ^

brought before the Presbytery, upon appeal from the Kirk-session of i

that parish, charged with dancing and singing on a fast-day morning. $

They had been at a wedding the night before in the house of the school- |

master; and the singing and dancing took place in Shaw of Grimmets', \

whither the revellers had retired. The tune to which they danced, the \

witnesses averred, was " the tune of that sang that's commonly called The \
Soio's Taillis to Oeordle." Several gave evidence to this effect; and they
—
appeared to be well acquainted with the tune some of them recognising
5

the words, the sow's tail till him yet." Another of the songs sung upon
" ],

the occasion was " Up and Waur them a' Willie," which, if originally a ?

Jacobite song, must have been then altogether new, as it could not refer, |

as such, to any event previous to 1715. _

l

If it cannot be shown upon positive data that AjTshire has a right to <

claim any of the earlier melodies of Scotland, she has, at all events, not I

lacked musicians and composers in later times. Among these, though i

perhaps not the most eminent, the name of M'Gill is familiar. The first |
notice we have of the family occurs in the parochial register of births for
Ayr, as follows :
—
" John M'Gill, son lawful to Wm, M'Gill, violer in the
(

Newtoune of Ayr, and Mary Hunter his spouse, was born on Wednesday, I

Deer, first, 1699." John, however, seems to have died in infancy, for the ;

same parties have auftther son, baptized John, born 30th August, 1707. \

This latter son of " Willie M'Gill" was, in all likelihood, the well known |

" Johnnie M'Gill," who is still remembered as an excellent violinccllo \

player, and who has the reputation of having composed several airs. If i

the same individual, he must have been long absent from his native place, '<

and had no doubt led a chequered life for he is said to have figured in
; <

Ayr as a stage doctor immediately prior to his settling down as the assist- I
'
ant of another locally celebrated violer, John Riddel. Riddel was the
—
composer of several popular airs such as "Jenny's Bawbee," "The

* See " History of Ayrshire," page 190, where some curious particulars are men-
tioned regarding them.
 —

mlCRODUCTION.

Merry Lads o' Ayr," " Stewarton Lasses," " Dumfries House," &c. He
—
was an excellent player in his day so much so that Lord Archibald
Montgomerie, upon one occasion, laid a bet that he -n-ould get a blind \

man* in Ayr who would beat all the violin players in Edinburgh- f Rid- \

del had a small salary from all the gentlemen of any note in the county, {

at whose residences it was his duty to attend at stated periods, and as t

often as he pleased or found it convenient during the rest of the year.

—
He was never without a pupil, or an apprentice for in these days the jaipils
\
I

were regularly apprenticed to their teacher, whom they styled Master ; [

and it was the duty of the apprentice to accompany the master in all his i

excursions. Amongst other pupils of Riddel was Weymis Gillespie \

another violer Avhose name deserves to be recorded. By this time Riddel ;

had become very old, and dared not expose himself to rough weather or \

much fatigue. Gillespie, his pupil, had, upon one occasion, an engage- ;

ment at a carpenters' ball in Ayr, and, being a young man, his heart as \

well as his bow was in the projected merry-making. Unfortunately,

upon that very day, he was called by his master to attend him in a special i

visit to one of his country patrons. This, at first sight, seemed a death- i

blow to Gillespie's diversion still he was determined not to forego the

;
|

pleasure, if at all possible. " We're gaun to hae a guid day, I think," said >

the old bhnd master to his pupil, as he consulted him about their journey, \

" No very sure o' tliat, master," said Gillespie, upon whose brain instantly J

flashed the idea of a stratagem which might emancipate him from his \

dilemma. " Gi'e wa' out an' see what the day looks like," rejoined the t

old man. Gillespie did as he was required; and, though the sun was clear \

and the sky bright, reported on returning that he was afraid it would {

overcast, as he saw certain ominous clouds gathering very rapidly. Rid- ^

del, at all times anxious to attend to the cpJIs of his patrons, was unwil- ^

ling to remain at home, and rejjcatedly despatched Gillespie to ascer- i

tain the state of the weather. Appearances always became worse with \

the apprentice, till at length he returned with the intelligence that it was >

"an even-down pour!" Old Riddel, somewhat dubious, was led to the \

door to satisfy himself of the fact. Gillespie, during his last absence, had, \

with the assistance of a friend, so fastened a large birch broom, thoroughly \

soaked in water, over the lintel of the door, that the moment the old man ^

groped his way out the water fell upon his bare head like a shower \

bath. " Richt eneuch, richt eneuch, Gillespie, we canna gang in sic \

weather as this ;" and so Old Riddel was satisfied, and Gillespie pre- \

pared to enjoy the carpenter's ball in the evening. ^

James Tannock, who died at the age of ninety-nine, was one of John >

Riddel's pupils so was Matthew Hall or Ha', who, now upwards of four-
:
|

score, lives in Newton-on-Ayr. Though almost completely deaf, yet when \

made aware, by writing, that the subject is the musical reminiscences of \

former times, the old spirit revives, and his stories are truly interesting. \

He must have been a muscular man in his day but when playing at
; !

Shintij upon one occasion, the joint of his right elbow was split in two by
a strolce, and he never had the proper power of his arm afterwards. He
|

was, in consequence, obliged to give up the small fiddle for the violincello
— upon which instrument he became as great a proficient, if not greater,
|

than upon the other. As is well known in Ayrshire, the late Earl of Eg-
linton was one of the chief patrons of muscians in the county. He was
himself a first-rate player upon the violincello and harp, and composed a
—
number of airs several of which, such as " Ayrshire Lasses," are still po-

* Riddel was blind, it is believed, from infancy.

t The Gows -were not at that time in repute.
 b
j
pnlar. A collection of music, published " by a young gentleman," about 5

the close of last century, when he was Major Montgomerie, is generally |

understood to have been his. Mr Hall mentions that he was forty-five

years in the habit of 'frequenting Coilsfield and Egliuton Castle in his ca-
I pacit}' as musician. His chief co-adjutor was James M'Lachlan, a High-
lander, who came to Ayrshire in a fencible regiment, and was patronised
by Lord Eglinton. At concerts at the Castle, the late Earl genurally took
! a part on the violincello or the harp, and amongst other professional
; players on the violin, blind Gilmour from Stevenston was usually pre-
! sent. " O thae war the daj's for music !" involuntarily exclaims old Hall,
I
as he proceeds with his reminiscences. Lately when the Castle of Eglin-
i ton was re-furnished, a number of violins and violincellos were discover-
\ ed in a garret— no doubt the identical valuable instruments so much
\
prized by the old Earl. Not knowing their history or their worth, the
\
party into whose hands they fell, gave them away to individuals equally >

\
incapable of appreciating them. Hall and M'Lachlan played over the whole j

'
county, at all the gentlemen's residences, and even in Edinburgh and Glas- J

\ gow on great occasions. In one week, to use his own words, they have |

" passed twenty-six parish kirks, and returned to Ayr on Friday to a ball, i
I

I
never getting to bed till Saturday night." They obtained snatches of |

i sleep as they best could during the intervals of playing and travelling. {

I
At one time Hall and M'Lachlan were at the Duke of Argyle's for six I

{ months together. M'Lachlan had been there before as footman to Lord j

i —
John Campbell. It was a time of much festivity a blind Irish harper of
I
the name of O'Kean, was also amongst the party of musicians. The har-
I
per, conceiving himself to have been eclipsed by the v'olin players, or
\ lancying an insult from the Duke of Argyle, left the party, and brib- i

;
ing some boys to procure materials, actually set fire to the lower part of In- \

\ verary Castle, which would soon have been wholly in flames, but for the <

timely discovery of the rascally act. The incendiai'y was taken to Inver- \

ary Jail, and no doubt met the punishment he deserved. Mr Hall's bass !

fiddle was a present from the late Countess of Eglinton. It is perhaps \

worth mentioning that he was the Jirst Mason ever made by the poet |

Burns. Burns himself was made by Alexander Wood, a tailor in Tarbol-

ton.
The late Major Logan was a delightful amateur player on the violin.
He also composed a variety of airs — some of them very excellent, but,
from his own peculiar style of playing, so difticult of execution that few
would attempt them. The collection which he left, however, might be
capable of revisal and alteration. If so, it is most desirable that they
should see the light. In more recent times the Messrs Hall of Ayr have
—
long maintained a high reputation as violin players so have the Andrews
in Lave-mill, near Dundonald while there is scarcely a village through-
;

out the countv that has not its instrumental or vocal club.
 INDEX

Johnie Faa,
Stroplion and Lydia,
Lady Mary Afln,

Old King Coul,

The Heir of Linno,
I had a horse, and I had nac mair,
May Colvin,

The Lass of Patie's Mill,

The Battle of Pentland Hill,

Hughie Graham,
The Battle of Loudoun Hill,

O'er the Moor amang the heather,

Paterson's Filly Gaes Foremost, ...

Thft Noble Family of Montgomeiie,

The Nicht is Neir Gone,

Loudoun Castle,

Sang on the Lady Margaret Montgomerie,

My Ain Fireside,
The Prais of Aige,
Kellyburnbracs,

As I cam' down by yon Castle wa'.

Tarn o' the Balloch,

Kirkdamdie Fair,
The Auld Fleckit Cow,
Peter Galbraith,
The Bloody Raid, ...

My Doggie,

The Lady's Dream,

Says I, quo' I, ...

The Auld Man's Croon,

I am a Jolly Farming Man,
 ; ; ;

BALLADS AND SONGS

OF AYRSHIRE.

The gypsies cam' to our gude lord's yett,

And O but they sang sweetly ;

They sang sae sweet and sae very complete,

That doun cam' om* fair lady.

And she cam' tripping down the stair,

And all her maids before her ;

As sune as they savi' her weel-fa'ured face,

They cuist the glauraourye o'er her.

" O come with me," says Johnie Faa

" O come with me, my dearie ;

For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword,

That your lord shall nae mair come near ye !"

Then she gied them the gude wheit breid,

And they ga'e her the ginger

But she gied them a far better thing,

The gowd ring aff her finger.

" Gae tak* frae me this gay mantil,

And bring to me a plaidie . .

For if kith and kin and a' had sworn,

I'll follow the gipsy laddie.
 ; ;

""'-•iS^fej
JOHNIE FA A.

" Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,

Wi' my gude lord beside me ;

This night I'll lie in a tenant's barn,

Whatever shall betide me."

" Come to your bed," says Johnie Faa

" O Come to your bed, my dearie ;

For I vow and I swear by the hilt of my sword.

nae mair come near ye 1"

That your lord shall

" I'll go to bed to my Johnie Faa

I'll go to bed to my dearie ;

For I vow and I swear by the fan in my hand,

That my lord shall nae mair come near me."

" I'll mak' a hap to my Johnie Faa ;

I'll mak' a hap to my dearie ;

And he's get a' the sash gaes round.

And my lord shall nae mair come near me."

And when our lord cam' hame at e'en,

And speired for his fair lady,

The tane she cried, and the tither replied,
" She's awa' with the gipsy laddie."

" Gae saddle to me the black black steed,

Gae saddle and male' him ready ;

Before that I either eat or sleep,

I'll gae seek my fair lady."

And we were fifteen weel-made men,

\
Although we were na bonnie ;

I
And we were a' put down for ane,
i

I
A fair young wanton lady.

i TllERE are several versions of this ballad, but the above is decidedly the

best. It is, besides, the one familiar in Ayrshire, and may therefore be
I

presumed the most correct. The version entitled, " Gypsie Davie," pub-

^)
10

iw^^m-
 — —

lishecl in Motherwell's Collection, from the recitation of an old woman,

seems as if it were an interpolation of the original, designed to render

the conduct of the lady more censurable and unaccountable

" Yestreen I lay in a fine feather bed,

And my gude lord beyond me ;

But this night I maun lye in some cauld tenant's harn,

A icJieen blackguards waiting on me."

This is assuredly not the language of even a " wanton lady," who had been
induced to leave her " gude lord" either by love or glaumourye. The ver-

sion we have copied is from the Collection by Finlay, who added consider-
ably to the imperfect one which first appeared in the Tea Table Miscellany.
He also appended some traditional particulars of the subject of the ballad.
Upon these Chambers, in his "Picture of Scotland," constructs the fol-

lowing apparently very circumstantial story :

John, the sixth Earl of Cassillis, a stern Covenanter, and of whom it

*'

isrecorded by Bishop Burnet, that he never would permit his language

to be understood but in its direct sense, obtained to wife Lady Jean Ha-
milton, a daughter of Thomas, first Earl of Haddington, a man of singu-
lar genius, who had raised himself from the Scottish bar to a peerage
and the best fortune of his time. The match, as is probable from the
character of the parties, seems to have been one dictated by policy ; for
Lord Haddington was anxious to connect himself with the older peers, and
Lord Cassillis might have some such anxiety to be allied to his father-in-
law's good estates the religion and the politics of the parties, moreover,
;

were the same. It is therefore not very likely that Lady Jean herself
had much to say in the bargain. On the contrary, says report, her af-
fections were shamefully violated. She had been previously beloved by
a gallant young knight, a Sir John Faa of Dunbar, who had perhaps
seen her at her father's seat of Tynningham, which is not more than
three miles from the town. When several years were spent and gone,
and Lady Cassillis had brought her husband three children, this passion
led to a dreadful catastrophe. Her youthful lover, seizing an oppor-
tunity when the Earl was attending the Assembly of Divines at West-
minster, came to Cassillis Castle, a massive old tower on the banks of
the Doon, four miles from Maybole, then the principal residence of the
family, and which is still to be seen in its original state. He was dis-
guised as a gipsy, and attended by a band of these desperate outcasts.
In the words of the ballad,

" They cuist the glaumourye owcr her."

But love has a glaumourye for the eyes much more powerful than that
 JOHNIE FAA.

supposed of old to be practised by wandering gypsies, and which must

have been the only magic used on this occasion. The Countess conde-
scended to elope with her lover. Mostiuifortunately, (?) ere they had pro-
ceeded very far, the Earl came home, and, learning the fact, immediately
set out in pursuit. Accompanied by a baud which put resistance out of
the question, he overtook them, and captured the whole party, at a ford
over the Doon, still called the Gypsies' Steps, a few miles from the
Castle. He brought them back to Cassillis, and there hanged all the
gypsies, including the hapless Sir John, upon " the Dule Tree," a splen-
did and most umbrageous plane, which yet flourishes on a mound in front
of the Castle Gate, and which was his gallows-in-ordinary, as the name
testifies. As for the Countess, whose indiscretion occasioned all this
waste of human life, she Avas taken by her husband to a window in front
of the Castle, and there, by a refinement of cruelty, compelled to sur-
—
vey the dreadful scene to see, one after another, fifteen gallant men
put to death, and at last to witness the dying agonies of him who had
first been dear to her, and Avho had periled aU that men esteem in her

behalf. The particular room in the stately old house where the unhappy
lady endured this horrible torture, is still called "the Countess's Room."
After undergoing a short confinement in that apartment, the house be-
longing to the family at Maybole was fitted for her reception, by the
addition of a fine projecting staircase, upon which were carved heads re-,
presenting those of her lover and his band and she was removed thither
;

—
and confined for the rest of her life the Earl in the meantime marrying
another wife. One of her daughters, Lady Margaret, was afterwards
married to the celebrated Gilbert Burnet. While confined in Maybole
Castle, she is said to have wrought a prodigious quantity of tapestry, so
as to have completely covered the walls of her prison but no vestige of;

it is now to be seen, the house having been repaired, (othericise ruined) a

few years ago, when size-paint had become a more fashionable thing in
Maybole than tapestry. The effigies of the gypsies are very minute,
being subservient to the decoration of a fine triple window at the top of
the staircase, and stuck upon the tops and bottoms of a series of little
pilasters, which adorn that part of the building. The head of Johnie Faa
himself is distinct from the rest, larger, and more lachrymose in the ex-
pression of the features. Some windows in the ujiper part of Cassillis
Castle are similarly adorned ; but regarding them tradition is silent."

We do not know what authority Chambers has for identifiying the lady

who played so unenviable a part in the drama. Unless he has positive

evidence to show that she was the Countess of John, the sixth Earl of Cas-

sillis, we should be strongly incHned, from a document which we have

seen and copied, to doubt the fact. This is a letter of the Earl of Cas-

sillis, inviting Lord Eglinton to the funeral of his Countess. From the
 —

JOHNIE FAA.

date— 15th December, 1642— the parties could be no other than John,
the sixth Earl, and Lady Jean Hamilton. The following is a verbatim
copy of the letter :

" My noble lord. It hath pleaseit the Almightie to tak my deir

bed-
fellow frome this valley of teares to hir home (as hir Best in hir last
wordis called it). There remaines now the last duetie to be done to that
pairt of hir left with ws, qch I intend to pforme vpoun the fFyft of Jan-
uar nixt. This I intreat may be honoured with yor. Lo. presence, heir
at Cassillis, yt. day, at Ten in the morning, and from this to our buriall
place at Mayboille, qch shalbe taken as a mark of yor. Lo. affectioun to
yor. Lo. humble servant,
Cassillis.
Cassillis, the 15th Dci-., 1642."

Here we have two arguments against the probability of Chambers's state-

ment—/rsf, the Earl's expressing himself in terms of the warmest affection
towards his late Countess— « my deir bedfellow "—which he could hardly
have been expected to do if she had been the heroine of the ballad : and,
secondly, the lady dying at Cassillis House— from whence the funeral was
to proceed— which is not at all hkely to have been the case had she been
the erring Countess A\ho was confined in IMaybole Castle.
The Earl of
Eglinton could not, it appears, attend the funeral, in consequence of the
urgency of public affairs. His reply may be deemed curious :—
[Copy of Lord Eglinton 's reply, scrolled on the same leaf of
paper.]
" My Lo.
I am sorrowfuU from my soul for yor. Lo.
great losse and
heavie visitatioun, and regraits much that I cannot have
ye libertie from
my Lord Chancellor to come and doe yat last duty and respect I am byd
to. And 1 will earnestly entreat yor. Lo. not to tak this for an excuse,
for I have been verie instant for it. But yor.
Lo. appointed day is ye
verie day ye meetting of ye Comittee of ye Consert
at Air of peace— and
further, our partie, ye E. of Glencairnc, is so instant
yat he will grant no
delay in this matter. Yor. Lo. may persuade yourself
it is ane very grit
grief to me to be absent from you. I Avill earnestly
entreat yor. Lo. to
take all this Cristianly, as I am confident yor. Lor. will doe.
I pray God
to comfortyou Avt. his wisdom, and resolve to be content with that which
comes from his hand, for none sail wish it more than I. You sail
stiU
command
Yor. Lo.
Most obt. servt. "

13
 — ;

JOHNIE FAA.

The style of this letter is another argument against the statement of Cham-
bers. It would have been insulting Cassillis to have used such consola-
tory language had the deceased " deir bedfellow" been the paramour of
Sir John Faa of Dunbar.
That the ballad was founded upon a reality —and that the main features
of the tragedy have been preserved by tradition — can scarcely be doubted
but as to the time, and the individual actors in it, there is good reason
for believing that we are yet in entire ignorance of both the one and the

other. " Johnie Faa" was no imaginary character. He was the acknow-
ledged head of the Egyptians, or Gypsies, in Scotland. Severe enact-
ments were passed against the tribe whose lawlessness and idle habits

were a great nuisance to the country. " Johnne Faw, Lord and Earl

of Little Egypt," as he was stj'led, had a letter under the Privy Seal,
from James V. —Feb. 15, 1540 — establishing his authority over the tribe,
and calling upon all sheriffs and persons in authority in Scotland to "as-
sist him in executioune of justice vpoun his company and foUds." As the
letter may be interesting to the reader we copy it :

" Letter, under the Privy Seal, by King James V. in favour of ' Johnne
Faw, Lord and Erie of Little Egypt.' Feb. 15, 1540.

"James, be the grace of God, King of Scottis: To oure ScherefRs of

Edinburghe, principall, and within the constabularie of Hadingtoun, Ber-
wik, Roxbiirghe, Selkirk, Perth, Forfar, Fife, Clackmannane, Kinrose,
\ Kincardin, Abirdene, Banf, Elgin and Fores, Name, Innernese, Linlithqw,
'<
Peblis, Striviling, Lanark, Renfrew, Dimbertane, Air, Dumfries, Bute,
i and Wigtoun Stewartis of Annandcrdale, Kirkcudbrycht, Menteitlic,
;

! and Stratherne Baillies of Kile, Carrik, and Cimynghanie and thaire

; ;

deputis Provcstis, aldermen, and bailies of oure burrowis and cieteis

;

of Edinburgh, Hadingtoun, Lawder, Jedburgh, Selkirk, Peblis, Perth,

I
Forfar, Cowpcr, Sanctandrois, Kincardin, Abirdene, Banf, Elgin and
I
Fores, Narnc, Innernese, Linlithqw, Striuiling, Lanark, Glasgow, Ruthir-
(
glenne, Renfrew, Dunbertane, Air, Dumfries, Wigtoun, Irwync, Kirkcud-

I
bricht, Quhitterne; and to all otlieris Schcreffis, Stewartis, provestis,
t auldcrmcnno, and bailleis within oure realme, greting. Forsamekill as
it is huimlie menit and schewin to ws be our louit, Johnne Faw, Lord and
I

I
Erle of Litill Egypt That quliair he obtenit oure Letters vnder oure
;

grete seile, direct to zow, all and sundry oure saidis Schereffis, stewartis,
1 baillies, proucstis, aldermen, and baillies of burrois, and to all and sindry
vthiris havand autorite within oure vealmc, to assist to him in excctioune

I
of justice vpoun his cumpany and folkis, conforme to the lawis of Egipt,

14
 ;

and in punissing of all tliaim that rebellis aganis him : Neuirtheles, as we

are iuformyt, Sebastiane Lalow, Egiptiane, ane of the said Johnnis cum-
pany, with his complices and pairt-takaris vuder- written, that is to say,
Anteane Donea, Satona Fango, Nona Finco, Phillip Hatfetggow, Towla
Bailzow, Grasta Neyn, Geleyr Bailzow, Bernard Beige, Demer Mats-
kalla, Notfaw Lawlowr, Martine Femine, rebellis and conspiris aganis
the said Johnnie Faw, and lies removit thame alluterly out of his cumpany,
and takin fra him diurse sovraes of money, jowellis, claithis, and vthris
gudis, to the quantite of ane grete sovme of money, and on na wyse will
pass hame with him, howbeit he has biddin and remainit of lang tyme
vpoun them, and is bunding and oblist to bring hame with him all them of
his company that ar on live, and ane tostimoniale of thame that ar deid :

And the said Johnne has the said Sebastianis Obligatioune, maid in
als,

Dunfermling, befor our Maister houssald that he and his cumpany suld
remain with him and on na wise depart fra him, as the samin beiris. In
contrar the tonour of the quilk, the said Sebastiane, be sinister and wrang
informatioune, fals relation, and circumventioun of ws, hes purchest our
writingis, dischargeing him and the remnant of the personis aboue writtin
his complicis and pairt-takaris of the said Johnnis cumpany, and with his
gudis takin be thame fra him, caussis certane our liegis assist to thame
and their opinionis, and to fortify and tak their pairt aganis the said
Johnnie, their lord and maister ; sua that he on no wyse, can apprehend
nor get thame to haue thame hame agane within their ain cuntre, eftir the
tenor of his said Band, to his hevy dampnage and skaithe, and in grete
perell of tynsall of his herctage, and express aganis justice. Our will is
heirfor, and we charge zow straitlie, and commandis, that incontynent thir
\ our Letteres sene, ze and ilk ane of zow, within the boundis of zour
Offices, command and charge all our liegis that nane of them tak vjjoune
hand to resset, assist, fortify, supjjle, manteine, defend or take pairt Avith
the said Sebastiane and his complices aboue written, for na buddis nor
vther way, aganis the said Johne Faw their lord and maister ; bot that
they and ze, inlikwise tak and lay handis vpoune them quhareuir they
may be apprehendit, and bring them to him to be pvnist for thair
demeritis, conforme to his lawis And help and fortify him to pvnis and
:

do justice vpoune them for thair trospassis And to that effect, len to
:

him zourc personis, stockis, fetteris, and all vther things necessar thairto,
as ze and ilk ane of zow, and all vtheris oure liegis, will ansuer to ws
thairupoune, and vnder all hieast pane and charge that eftir may follow
swa that the said Johnne have na cans of complaynt heirupouno in tyme
cuming, nor to resort agane to ws to that effect, nochtwithstanding ony
oure writings sinisterly purchest, or to be purchest, be the said Sebastiane,
in the conti-ar. And als, charge all oure liegis that nane of thaim molest,
vex, inquiet, or trouble the said Johnne Faw and his cunipan}", in doing
of thair lefuU besynes, or vtherwayis, within oure realme, and in thair
passing, remanyng, or away-ganging furth of the samyne, vnder the pane
 STREPHON ANi) LTDIA.

abouc Avrittin : And siclike, that ze command and charge all skijjpars,

maistcris,and marinaris of all schippis within oure realme, at all Portis

and Havynnis quhaii* the said Johnnk and his cumjjany salhappin to resoi't
and cum, to resaue him and them thairin upoune thair expenses, for fur-
ing of thame f iirth of om-e realme to the partis bezond the sey As thai :

and ilk anc of thame siclilce will answer to ws thairupoune, and undir the
pane forsaid. Subscriuit with oure hand, and under oure Priue Seile,
AT Falkland, the fiveteine day of Februai*, and of oure reigne the xxviij
zeir. Subscript, per Regem. [JAMES R .]
"
Taking the ballad in connection with the era of the *' Erie of Little Egypt

— for, though he may have been no actor in the seduction of the Lady of

Cassillis, it may be assumed that the author of the verses, in assigning him
the leadership of the enterprise, committed no anachronism —we would
be inclined to date back the circumstance at least a century before the

timed fixed by the author of the " Picture of Scotland."

Chambers is locally wrong in stating that the Gypsies' Steps over the

Doon are "a few miles from the Castle." They are not half-a-mile.

Besides, tradition does not say that they were taken there. He forgets

to mention that there are two portraits of the ill-fated Countess preserved

at CassilUs —one before marriage, and the other after her imprisonment.

The latter represents her in tears. There are also some relics said to

have belonged to her.

5ttepfjon antr Egtiia.

All lovely on the sultry beach

Expiring Strephon lay ;

No hand the cordial draught to reach,

Nor cheer the gloomy way.

Ill-fated youth ! no parent nigh

To catch thy fleeting breath ;

No bride to fix thy swimming eye,

Or smooth the face of death.

16
 — ; —

STREPHON AND LYDIA

Far distant from the mournful scene

Thy parents sit at ease

Thy Lydia rifles all the plain,

And all the spring, to please.

Ill-fated youth ! by fault of friend,

Not force of foe depressed ;

Thou fall'st, alas ! thyself, thy kind,

Thy country, unredressed.

These affecting lines —printed for the first time in Johnson's " Musical

I
Museum" —were, as stated in Burns's MS. notes to that work, the " com-

l
position of William Wallace, Esq. of Cairnhill."* This gentleman, ac-
i cording to Robertson's " Ayrshire Families," was the eldest son of Tho-

5 mas Wallace, a direct descendant of the Wallaces of Ellerslie, who ac-

^
quired the property of Cairnhill about the beginning of last century from

another branch of the Craigie family, in whose jDossession it had continued

for upwards of two hundred years. William, who died in 1763, in the

52d year of his age, was a member of the Faculty of Advocates, having
been admitted in 1734. He succeeded to the property on the death of
his father in 1748 ; and married a daughter of Archibald Campbell of
Succoth, in 1750. By this marriage he had three sons — all of whom
died without issue —and a daughter, Lilias, who inherited the estate, and
died at an advanced age, on the 9th of April, 1840. The father of Robert

Wallace, Esq., the late proprietor of Kelly, was a younger brother of

William. We are not aware that the author of '•'

Strephon and Lydia"
is known as the writer of any other lyric. Judging from the single speci-

men afforded, he seems to have possessed no ordinary talent for poetical

composition. The couplet

" Thy Lydia rifles all the plain.

And all the spring, to please"

is finely conceived, and was at the time highly characteristic of the lady

referred to. As Dr Blacklock informed Burns, the real Lydia —one of

* Cairnhill is situated on a delightful bend of the Cessnock, about four miles

from Kilmarnock.

17
 — : —

STREPHON AND LTDIA.

the loveliest women of her day —was the "gentle Jean" celebrated in the

following " Parody, by Mr w******,"* in Hamilton of Bangour's poems:

"Two toasts at every public place are seen

God-like Elizabeth, and gentle Jean :

Mild Jeany smiles at ev'ry word you say.

Seems pleas'd herself, and sends you pleas'd away.
Her face so wondrous fair, so soft her hands,
—
We're tempted oft to think she understands
Each fop with joy the kind endeavour sees.
And thinks for him the anxious care to please
But the sly nymph has motives of her own.
—
Her lips are opened, and her teeth are shown,
Bess blunders out with ev'ry thing aloud,
And rattles unwithheld and unwithstood ;
In vain the sighing swain implores a truce,
Nor can his wit one moment's pause produce :

She bounds o'er all, and, conscious of her force.

pours along the torrent of discourse.
Still

Sometimes, 'tis true, just as her breath she di-aws,

With watchful eye we catch one moment's pause,
But when that instantaneous moment's o'ei',
She rattles on incessant as before.
To which of these two wonders of the town,
Say, shall I trust, to spend an afternoon ?
If Betty's drawing-room should be my choice,
Intoxicate with wit, struck down with noise,
Pleas'd and displeas'd, I quit the Bedlam scene,
And joyful hail my
peace of mind again ;
But if to gentle Jeany 's I repaii'.
Regal 'd on syllabub, and fed on air, |

With study'd rapture yawning I commend,

Mov'd by no cause, directed to no end, |

Till half asleep, tho' flatter 'd, not content, I

I come away as joyless as I went." \

The lover of this gentle fiiir one —the Strephon of the song —a youth of \

handsome proportions, and attractive appearance, was usually distinguish- ;

* Tlic Mr W. here meant was in all likelihood Mr Wallace of Cairnbill, the a\ithor
of " Strephon and Lydia." Additional evidence is thus afforded of liis cultivated
taste and poetical genius. The edition of Hamilton's poems, from which the parody
is extracted, was published in 17G0, six years after the deatli of the author, who died
in 1754, in the flOth year of his age. it is not improbable that Hamilton and Wal-
lace were intimate friends.

18
 — ; ;

liADY MARY ANN.

ed by the soubriquet of " Beau Gibson." Having frequently met in pub-

lic, the parties formed an ardent and mutual attachment. Their habits
and tastes, however, were too highly pitched for their narrow incomes
and the friends of Gibson, by way of breaking off the connection, pur-

chased a commission for him in the armament, fitted out in 1740, under

the command of Lord Cathcart, against the Spanish settlements in South

America. Owing to the sudden death of that gallant and experienced

General, at the Island of Dominica, the command devolved on General

Wentworth, "an oflScer without experience, atithority, or resolution."

The consequence was, that in the expedition undertaken by Admu-al Ver-

non against Carthagena, the British sustained a signal defeat. The Ad-
miral and the General had conceived a mutual hatred and contempt of

each other —and the want of mutual co-operation rendered all their plans

abortive. In the attack on Carthagena everything miscarried. The

guides were killed in advancing; the troops in consequence proceeded
against the strongest part of the fortification ; the scaling-ladders were

too short ; Colonel Grant of the grenadiers was killed ; and unsupported
by the fleet — Admiral Vernon alleging that his ships could not approach

near enough to batter the town —the small body of British forces was
compelled to retire, leaving behind upwards of six hundi-ed killed or

wounded. Amongst these was the unfortunate " Beau Gibson." Hence
the concluding lines of the ballad

" Thou fall'st, alas ! thyself, thy kind,

Thy country, unredress'd."

ilatig iHarg ^nn.

O Lady Mary Ann looks o'er the castle wa'.

She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ha',

The youngest he was the flower among them a'

My bonnie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet.

 ; ; —

LADT MART ANN

O fiither, O fother, an ye think it fit.

We'll send him a year to the college yet

We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat

And that will let them ken he's to marry yet.

Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew.

Sweet was its smell, and bonnie was its hue,

And the langer it blossomed, the sweeter it grew ;

For the lily in the bud will be bonnier yet.

Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout o' an aik,

Bonnie and blooming and straight was its make,

The sun took delight to shine for its sake ;

And it will be the brag o' the forest yet.

The summer is gane when the leaves they were green.

And the days are awa' that you and I hae seen,

But far better days I trust will come again ;

For my bonnie laddie's young but he's growin' yet.

The Editor of " Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads," says —" I
have extracted these beautiful stanzas from Johnson's ' Poetical Museum.'
They are worthy of being better knovi'n —a circumstance which may lead
to a discovery of the persons whom they celebrate." Motherwell, who
also regarded the stanzas as " certainly beautiful," copied them into his

" Minstrelsy ; Ancient and Modern." He thought it probable that they

referred to " some of the Dundonald family" —one lady of that noble house

having been commemorated in a local ditty to the same air :

"My Lady Dundonald sits singing and spinning,

Drawing a thread frae her tow rock ;

And it weel sets me for to wear a gudc cloak.

And I span ilka thread o't my sel', so I did," &c.

The lady of John, fourth Earl of Dundonald —second daughter of Charles,

first Earl of Dunmore — died at Paisley, in 1710. She was celebrated
for her beauty, as well as for every virtue which could adorn the female
character ; and her death was universally lamented. She belonged to the

Episcopalian Church —notwithstanding which, even Wodrow, while he

20
 ;

OLD KING COUIj.

seems to regard her demise — occasioned by small-pox—as a special visita-

tion of Providence, admits the solidity of her reputation. She was " highly
praelaticall in her principles," he says, " but very devote and charitable."
She had three daughters, " celebrated for superior beauty by the elegant
Hamilton of Bangour" — one of whom, Lady Anne, may have been the
heroine of the song. She was married to the fifth Duke of Hamilton,

and died in 1724. Contemporaneously with this lady there was a Charles
Cochrane, connected with the Cochranes of Waterside, and of course re-
lated to the Dundonald family. At his death he left £5 to the parish of

Auchinleck, payable in 1732. Could he be the "sprout of an aik" al-

luded to in the song ?

Old King Coul was a jolly old soul,

And a jolly old soul was he :

Old King Coul he had a brown bowl.

And they brought him in fiddlers three ;

And every fiddler was a very good fiddler.

And a very good fiddler was he.

Fidel-didel,_fidel-didel, went the fiddlers three :

And there's no a lass in braid Scotland

Compared to our sweet Marjory.

Old King Coul, &c. jSS" See the foregoing verse

And they brought him in pipers three ;

And every piper, &c.

Ila-didel, ho-didel, ha-didel, ho-didel, went the pipers

Fidel-didel, fidel-didel, went the fiddlers three :

And there's no a lass, &c.

21
 — : :

OLD KING COUL.

Old King Coul, &c.

And they brought him in harpers three

Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers ;

Ha-didel, ho-didel, ha-didel, ho-didel, went the pipers ;

Fidel-didel, fidel-didel, went the fiddlers three :

And there's no a lass, &c.

Old King Coul, &c.

And they brought him trumpeters three
Twara-rang, twara-rang, went the trumpeters ;

Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers ;

Ha- didel, ho-didel, ha-didel, ho-didel, went the pipers ;

Fidel-didel, fidel-didel, went the fiddlers three :

And there's no a lass, &c.

Old King Coul, &c.

And they brought him in drummers three :

Rub-a-dub, rub-a-dub, went the drummers ;

Twara-rang, twara-rang, went the trumpeters ;

Twingle-twangle, twingle-twangle, went the harpers ;

Ha-didel, ho-didel, ha-didel, ho-didel, went the pipers ;

Fidel-didel, fidel-didel, went the fiddlers three :

And there's no a lass, &c.

That this ditty is old can scarcely be doubted. It appeared first in Herd's
Collection, published in 1776; but it has long been orally fiimiliar over
the country. From the lines

" And there's no a lass in braid Scotland

Compared to oiu* sweet Mai-jory,"
we should suppose the composition as ancient as the days of Robert the

Bruce, whose only daughter, Marjory, married Walter the Steward of

Scotland. We have appropriated the verses in the belief that the " old
King Coul" whom they celebrate was no other than the Coul or Coil of

history, whose fate in battle has given the name of Coil or Kyle to one of

the three great divisions of Ayrshire. Historians difter as to the iden-

tity of "King Coul" —whether he was Sovereign of the Strathclyde

Britons, or a Welch invader. It is equally uncertain whether it was the

22
 — —

OLD KING COUL.

Scots or Picts, or both, by whom he was defeated ; but that a battle was
fought, and a person of distinction buried, at the spot mentioned by our

ancient writers —which still bears the name of Coilsfield — is placed beyond

all question by the I'ecent opening of the tumulus. The following account
of this interesting operation was communicated to the local journals at

the time by one of the antiquarian gentlemen who took part in it :

"discovery of sepdlchkal ukns in the grave of king coil.

" To the south of Coilsfield House, in Ayrshire, and immediately west

of the farm offices, is a circular mound, enclosed by a large hedge and

planted Avith oak and other trees. On the centre and highest part of this
mouiid, are two large stones, masses of basjilt —which, according to tra-
dition, mark the spot where the mortal remains of Old King Coil were
deposited. The names borne by places in the vicinity are in keeping
with this tradition. The beautiful mansion adjoining, one of the seats of
the Earl of Eglinton, is named Coilsfield, i.e., the field of Coil. Kyle,
the name of the central district of Ayrsliii-e, is supposed to be the same
word Coil spelled in accordance with the vulgar pronunciation of the
name. A little brook that empties itself into the Fail is called The '

Bloody- burn,'" and so testifies by its name, of the blood by which its
waters had, on some memorable occasion, been polluted and a flat al- ;

luvial piece of ground along the Fail, opposite the mouth of the bloody
burn, is still called 'The Dead-men's-holm,' probably from its having
been the bui'ial place of the warriors. It is true that a high authority
Chalmers, author of the Caledonia, denies that there ever was such a
person as King Coil, Although it is well known that that author at times
allows himself to be carried away by an undue love of theory, still his
scepticism has had the effect of degrading into mere fable, in the estima-
tion of many, traditionary history, in regard to the West of Scotland.
" Regard, therefore, for traditionary evidence, respect for the mighty-
dead, and love of historical truth combined to render it desirable that
Coil's grave should be opened.
" Accordingly, on the evening of the 29th May, 1837, in presence of
several gentlemen, the two large stones were removed. The centre of
the mound was foimd tobe occupied by boulder stones, some of them of
considerable size. When the excavators had reached the depth of about
four feet, they came on a flag stone of a circular form of about three feet in
diameter. The light had now failed, and rain began to fall in torrents
but the interest excited was too intense to admit of any delay; candles
were procured, all earth and rubbish cleared away, and the circular stone
carefully lifted up.
" The seclusion of the spot, the beauty of the surrounding lawn and
trees, the eager countenances of the spectators, and above all, the light

23
J and voices from the grave in -which there had been darkness and
rising

I
silence forupwards of two thousand years, rendered the scene which at
this time presented itself at Coil's tomb, a very remarkable one.

\
" Under the circular stone was first a quantity of dry yellow coloui-ed
—
sandy clay then a small flag stone laid horizontally, covering the mouth
i of an urn filled with white-coloured burnt bones. In removing the dry
clay by which this urn was surrounded, it was discovered that a second'
I

urn less indurated in its texture, so frail as to fall to pieces when touched,
had been placed close to the principal urn.
" Next day the examination of the mound was resumed, and two more
urns filled with bones were found. Of these urns, one crumbled into dust
so soon as the air was admitted the other was I'aised in a fractured state.
;

Under flat stones, several small heaps of bones were observed, not con-
tained in urns, but carefully surrounded by the yellow coloured clay
mentioned above.
—
" The urns in shape resemble flower-pots they are composed of clay,
and have been hardened by fire. The principal urn is TJ inches in height,
7| inches in diameter, gtlis of an inch in thickness. It has none of those
markings, supposed to have been made by the thumb nail, so often to
be observed on sepulchral urns, and it has nothing of ornament except
an edging or projecting part about half an inch from the top.
" No coins, or armour, or implements of any description, could be found.
" The discovery of these urns renders evident that, at a very remote
period, and while the practice of burning the dead still prevailed that —
is to say, before the introduction of Christianity —
some person or persons
of distinction had been deposited there.
" The very fact of sei^ulchral iirns having been found in the very spot
where, according to an uninterrupted tradition, and the statements of
several historians, King Coil had been laid, appears to give to the tradi-
tionary evidence, and to the statements of the early Scottish historians,
in regard to Coil, a degree of probability higher than they formerly pos-
sessed.
" According to Bellcuden, in his translation of Hector Bocce, ' Kyle is
namit frac Coyll, Kyng of the Britons, quhilk was slain in the same
region.' Buchannan states that '
the Scots and Picls suri^rised the camp
of the Britons in the night, and put almost the whole of them to the
sword. Coilus, King of the Britons, was among the slain in this engage-
ment, and the district in which the battle was fought, was afterwards dis-
tinguished by his name.'
'•'
The death of Coil is supposed to have happened about 300 years be-
fore Christ."
 : ;; :

THE HEIR OF LINNE.

Sijc ^tii of Hinne.

Part the Fiest.

Lithe and listen, gentlemen,

To sing a song I wiU beginne

It is of a lord of faire Scotland,

Which was the unthrifty heire of Linne.

His father was a right good lord,

His mother a lady of high degree

But they, alas ! were dead, him froe,

And he loved keeping companie.

To spend the daye with merry cheare.

To drinke and revell every night.

To card and dice from eve to morne.

It was, I ween, his heart's delighte.

To ride, to runne, to rant, to roare,

I To always spend and never spare,

\
I wott, an' it were the king himselfe,

\
Of gold and fee he mote be bare.
I

s Soe fares the unthrifty lord of Linne,

I Till all his gold is gone and spent

I
And he maun sell his landes so broad,

I
His house, and landes, and all his rent.
i

I
His father had a keen stewarde.
And John o' the Scales was called hee

But John has become a gentel-man.

And John has gott both gold and fee.

Sayes, " Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,

Let nought disturb thy merry cheere ;

25
 : ;; ; ;

t^^3(
THE HEIR OF LITTXE.

Iff thou wilt sell thy lands soe broad,

Good store of gold He give thee heere."

" My gold is gone, my money is spent

My lande nowe take it unto thee :

Give me the golde, good John o' the Scales,

And thine for aye my lande shall be."

Tlien John he did him to record draw,

And John he cast him a god's-pennie

But for every pounde that John agreed,
The land, I wis, was well worth three.

He told him the gold upon the horde.

He was right glad his land to winne
" The gold is thine, the land is mine,

And now He be the lord of Liime."

Thus he hath sold his land soe broad,

Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,

All but a poor and lonesome lodge,

That stood far off in a lonely glenne.

For soe he to his father hight

" My Sonne, when I am gonnc," sayd hee,

" Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad.

And thou wilt spend thy gold so free :

" But sweare me nowe upon the roode.

That lonesome lodge thou'lt never spend

For when all the world doth frown on thee,

Thou there shalt find a faithful friend."

The heir of Linne Is full of golde :

And "come with me, my friends," sayd hee,

" Let's drinke, and rant, and merry make,

And he that spai'es, ne'er mote he thee."

26
 ; : ;: ;

THE HEIR OP LINNE.

They ranted, drank, and merry made.

Till all his gold it waxed thinne ;

And then his friendes they slunk away :

They left the vmtlirifty heir of Linne.

He had never a penny left in his purse.

Never a penny left but three

And one was brass, another was lead,
And another it was white monie.

" Nowe well-a-day," sayd the heir of Linne,

" Nowe well-a-day, and woe is mee,

For when I was the lord of Linne,

I never wanted gold nor fee.

" But many a trustye friend have I,

And why shold I feel dole or care ?

He borrow of them all by turnes,

Soe need I not be never bare."

But one, I wis, was not at home ;

Another had paid his gold away

Another call'd him thriftless loone,

And bade him sharpley wend his way.

" Now well-a-day," sayed the heir of Linne,

" Now well-a-day, and woe is me

For when I had my landes so broad,

On me they lived right merrilie.

" To beg my bread from door to door,

I wis, it were a brenning shame
To rob and steal it were a sinne
To work my limbs I camiot frame.

"Now He be away to my lonesome lodge,

For there my father bade me wend ;

27
 ;: ;

When all the world shovxld frown on mee

I there shold find a trusty friend."

Paet the Second.

AWAT then hyed the heir of Linne

O'er hill and holt, and moor and fenne,
Until he came to lonesome lodge,

That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne.

He looked up, he looked downe,

In hopes some comfort for to winne

But bare and lothly were the walles.
" Here's sorry cheare," quoth the heir of Linne.

The little windowe dim and darke

"Was hung with ivy, brere, and yewe
No shimmering sunn here ever shone :

No halesome breeze here ever blew.

No chair, ne table he mote spye.

No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed.

Nought save a rope with renning noose.

That dangling hung up o'er his head.

And over it in broad letters,

These words were written so plain to see :

" Ah graceless wretch, hast spent thine

! all,

And brought thyselfe to penurie?

" All this my boding mind misgave,

I therefore left this trusty friend :

Let it now sheeld thy foule disgrace.

And all thy shame and sorrows end."

Sorely shent wi' this rebuke.

Sorely shent was the heir of Linne

 "

His heart, I wis, was near to barst

With guilt and sorrowe, shame and sinne.

Never a word spake the heir of Linne,

Never a word he spake but three :

" This is a trusty friend indeed,

And is right welcome unto mee."

Then round his necke the corde he drewe,

And sprang aloft with his bodie :

When lo ! the ceiUng burst in twaine,

And to the ground came tumbling hee.

Astonyed lay the heir of Linne,

Ne knewe if he were live or dead :

At length he looked, and saw a bille.

And in it a key of golde so redd.

He took the bill, and look it on.

Straight good comfort found he there :

Itt told him of a hole in the wall.

In which there stood three chests in-fere.

Two were full of the beaten golde,

The third was full of white money ;

And over them in broad letters

These words were written so plaine to see :

" Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere ;

Amend thy life and follies past ;

For but thou amend thee of thy life,

That rope must be thy end at last

.

" And let it be," sayd the heir of Linne ;

" And let it be, but if I amend :

For here I will make mine avow.

This reade shall guide me to the end."
 ; ; ; ; ; :

THE HEIR OF LINNE.

Away then went with a merry cheare,

Away then went the heir of Linne
I wis, he neither ceas'd ne blanne,

Till John o' the Scales house he did winne.

And when he came to John o' the Scales,

Up at the speere then looked hee ;

There sat three lords upon a rowe,

Were drinking of the wine so free.

And John himself sate at the board-head,

Because now lord of Linne was hee.

" I pray thee," he said, '•'

good John o' the Scales,

One forty pence for to lend mee."

" Away, away, thou thriftless loone

Away, away, this may not bee

For Christ's curse on my head," he sayd,

" If ever I trust thee one pennie."

Then l^espake the heir of Linne,

To John o' the Scales wife then spake he

" Madame, some almes on me bestowe,

I pray for sweet saint Charitie."

" Away, a\^'ay, thou thriftless loone,

I swear thou gettest no almes of mee

For if we shold hang any losel heere.

The first we wold begin with thee."

Then bespake a good fellowe.

Which sat at John o' the Scales his bord ;

Sayd " Turn againe, thou heir of Linne ;

Some time thou wast a well good lord :

" Some time a good fellow thou hast been,

And sparedest not thy gold and fee

30
 : :

THE HEIE OP LIEWE.

Therefore He lend thee forty pence.

And other forty if need bee.

" And ever, I pray thee, John o' the Scales,

To let him sit in thy companie :

For well I wot thou had his land.

And a good bargain it was to thee."

Up then spake him John o' the Scales,

All wood be answer'd him againe
" Now Christ's cm-se on my head," he sayd,
" But I did lose by that bargaine.

"And here I proffer thee, heir of Linne,

Before these lords so faire and free.
Thou shalt have it backe again better cheape.
By a hundred markes, than I had it of thee."

"I drawe you to record, lords," he said.

With that he cast him a God's-pennie :

" Now by my fay," said the heir of Linne,

" And here good John is thy monie."

And he pull'd forth three bagges of gold,

And layd them dowii upon the bord :

All woe begone was John o' the Scales,

Soe shent he cold say never a word.

He told him forth the good red gold,

He told it forth with mickle dinne.
" The gold is thine, the land is mine,
And now Ime againe the lord of Linne."

Saves, " Have thou here, thou good fellowe.

Forty pence thou didst lend mee

Now I am againe the lord of Linne,
And forty pounds I will give thee.

31
sy^rK®
 ; ! —

THE HEIR OF LEVNE.

" He make thee keeper of my forest,

Both of the wild dere and the tame ;

For but I reward thy Ijounteous heart,

I wis, good fellowe, I were to bkame."

" Now well-a-day !" sayth Joan o' the Scales :

Now well-a-day and woe is my life

'•'
!

Yesterday I was lady of Linne,

Now Ime but John o' the Scales his wife."

" Now fare-thee-well," said the heir of Linne ;

" Farewell now, John o' the Scales," said hee :

" Christ's curse light on me, if ever again

I bring my lands in jeopardy."

This ballad was first brought to light by Bishop Percy in 1755. In his
" Reliques" he says —" The original of this ballad is found in the Editor's
folio MS., the breaches and defects in which render the insertion of sup-
plemental stanzas necessary. These it is hoped the reader will pardon, as
indeed the completion of the story was suggested by a modern ballad on

a similar subject. From the Scottish phrases here and there discernible

in this poem, it should seem to have been originally composed beyond the

Tweed. The heir of Linne appears not to have been a lord of Parlia-
ment, but a laird, whose title went along with his estate," Motherwell
says —" The traditionary version extant in Scotland begins thus :

" The bonnie heir, the wecl-faured heii".

And the wcarie heir o' Linne ;

Yonder he stands at his father's gate,

And nacbody bids him come in.

O, see where he gangs, and see where he stands,

The weary heir o' Linne
O, see where he stands on the cauld causey,
Some anc wuld ta'en him in.

But if he had been his father's heir,

Or yet the heir o' Llnnc,
lie wadna stand on the cauld causey.
Some anc Avuld ta'en him in."

32
I^^m-"
 ;

Linn, in Dali*y parish, is supposed to be the scene of this fine ballad. The
tower, of which some traces still remain, overlooked a beautiful cascade
or linn, on the water of Caaf, near the village of Dairy. The family of

Linne of that Ilk —now extinct—was of old standing. Walter de Lynne

is mentioned in the Ragman Roll, 1296. No regular genealogical ac-

count of the family can be made out ; but they are traced, in various
documents, as the proprietors of Linn down till nearly the middle of the

seventeenth century. The last of the lairds of Linne, apparently, was

" Johne Lin of yt Ilk," mentioned in the testament of " Jonet Jack, spous
to John Crawfaird in Robshilheid, Dairy" — December, 1636.* Soon
after this the property seems to have been acquired by the Kilmarnock
family. Lord Kilmarnock was retoured heir to a portion of the lands in

1641. Although it is only conjectural that Linn in Dairy is the Linn of

the ballad, the circumstance of the family being of that Ilk accords with

what Bishop Percy remarks, that " the heir of Linne appears not to have
been a lord of Parliament, but a laird, whose title went along with the
estate." Linne was the chief of all who bore the name —the title o? that

Ilk being applicable only to such as are acknowledged to be the head of

their race. The next possessor would have^been called the Laird of Linn,
but not Linn of that Ek.

$ i^atr a ^t^XM anl» 31 ijati na^ M^ix-

I had a horse, and I had nae mair,

I gat him frae my daddy
My purse was light, and my heart was sair,

But my wit it was fu' ready.

And sae I thought me on a time,

Outwittens of my daddie.
To fee mysel' to a Highland lau'd,

Wha had a bonnie lady.

* Commissary Records of Glasgow.

33
 ; ; ;

I HAD A HORSE AND I HAD NAE MAIR.

I wi'ote a letter, and thus began,

Madame, be not offended,

I'm o'er the lugs in love wi' you,

And care not tho' ye kend it

For I get little frae the laird,

And far less frae my daddy,

And I would blythely be the man

Would strive to please my lady.

She read my letter, and she leugh

Ye needna been sae blate, man.
Ye might ha'e come to me yoursel'.
And tauld me o' your state, man ;

You might ha'e come to me yoursel'

Outwitten o' ony body,
And made John Gowkston o' the laird,
<
And kiss'd his bonnie lady.
\

\ Then she put siller in my purse,

\ We drank wine in a cogie 5

\
She fee'd a man to rub my horse,

I
And wow but I was vogie.
But I gat ne'er sae sair a fleg.

Since I cam' frae my daddy.

The laird cam', rap, rap, to the yett.

When I was wi' his lady.

Then she pat me below a chair.

And happ'd me wi' a plaidie ;

But I was like to swarf wi' fear.

And wish'd me wi' my daddy.

The laird gaed out, he saw na me,

I gaed when I was ready

I promised, but I ne'er ga'ed back,

To kiss his bonnie lady.

This is one of the very best specimens of the comic muse of Scotland.

34
 ; ;

MAY COLVIN.

Burns says the " story is founded on fact. A John Hunter, ancestor to a

very respectable ferming family, who live in a place in the parish, I think,
of Galston, called Barr Mill, was the luckless hero that ' had a horse and
had nae mair.' For some little youthful follies he found it necessary to

make a retreat to the West Highlands, where he ' fee'd himself to a High-
land laird ;'
for that is the expression of all the oral editions of the song

I ever heard. The present Mr Hunter, who told me the anecdote, is the

great-grandchild of our hero." The song was first printed in Herd's

Collection. The ballad bears internal evidence of being as old as the days

of Mr Hunter's great-grandfather. The laird coming " rap, rap, to the

yett" refers to a period when the houses or towers of the lairds were

strongly enclosed with a well-barricaded gate, or, Scottice, yett.

False Sir John a wooing came,

To a maid of beauty fair :

May Colvin was the lady's name.

Her father's only heir.

He's courted her butt, and he's courted her ben, j

And he's courted her into the ha', ;

Till once he got his lady's consent >

To mount and ride awa'.

j

She's gane to her father's coffers, |

Where all his money lay \

And she's taken the red. and she's left the white, \

And so lightly as she tripped a\^ay. J

She's gane down to her father's stable

|

Where all his steeds did stand \

And she's taken the best and she's left the warst, x

That was in her father's land. \

 ;

MAY COLVm.

He rode on, and she rode on,

They rode a lang simmer's day.

Until they came to a broad river.

An arm of a lonesome sea.

" Loup off the steed," says false Sir John ;

" Your bridal bed you see ;

For it's seven king's daughters I have drowned here,

And the eighth I'll out make with thee.

" Cast aff, cast aff your silks so fine,

And lay them on a stone,

For they are o'er good and o'er costly

To rot in the salt sea foam.

" Cast aff, cast aft* your hoUand smock,

And lay it on this stone.

For it is too fine and o'er costly

To rot in the salt sea foam."

" O turn you about, thou fiilse Sir John,

And look to the leaf o' the tree ;

For it never became a gentleman

A naked woman to see."

He's turned himself straight round about.

To look to the leaf o' the tree ;

She's twined her arms about his waist,

And thrown him into the sea.

" O hold a grip of me, May Colvin,

For fear that I should drown

I'll take you hame to your fothei-'s gate,

And safely I'll set jou down."

" O lie you there, thou false Sir John,

O lie you there," said she.

i" 36

m^^
 : :

MAT COLVm.

" For you lie not in a caulder bed,

Than the ane you intended for me.''

So she went on her father's steed,

As swift as she could flee;

And she came hame to her fother's gates

At the breaking of the day.

Up then spake the pretty parrot

" May Colvin, where have you been ?

What has become of false Sir John,

That wooed you so late yestreen ?"

Up then spake the pretty parrot.

In the pretty cage where it lay

" O what ha'e ye done with the false Sir John,

That he behind you does stay ?

" He wooed you but, he wooed you ben.

He wooed you into the ha',
Until he got your own consent

For to mount and gang awa'."

'•'
O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot.

Lay not the blame upon me ;

Your cage will be made of the beaten gold,

And the spakes of ivorie."

Up then spake the king himself.

In the chamber where he lay :

" Oh what ! ails the pretty parrot,

That prattles so long ere day."

" It was a cat cam' to my C£i,ge door ;

I thought 'twould have worried me ;

And I was calling on fair May Colvin

To take the cat from me."

37
 MAY COLVIN,

This version of " May Colvin " is copied from Motherwell's Collection.

Motherwell states that he had seen a " printed stall copy as early as 1749,

entitled, '
The Western Tragedy,' " which perfectly agreed with the en-

larged version given from recitation in Sharpe's Ballad Book. He had

also " seen a later stall print, called the ' Historical Ballad of May Cule-
zean,' to which is prefixed some local tradition, that the lady there cele-

brated was of the family of Kennedy, and that her treacherous and mur-

der-hunting lover was an Ecclesiastick of the Monastery of Maybole."

In Carrick, where the ballad is popular, the general tradition is that the

I
" Fause Sir John" was the laird of Carleton, and "May Colzean" a

J daughter of Kennedy of Culzean. Chambers has thus embodied the tra- ;

I dition: —"The ballad finds locality in that wild portion of the coast of 5

j
Carrick which intervenes betwixt Girvan and Ballantrae. Carleton 5

I
Castle, about two miles to the south of Girvan, (a tall old ruin, situated !

j
on the brink of a bank which overhangs the sea, and which gives title to |

Sir John Cathcart, Bart, of Carleton) is affirmed by the country people,

who still remember the story [tradition rather] with great freshness, to

have been the residence of the Fause Sir John ' ;'
while a little rocky emi- \

nence, called Gamsloup, overhanging the sea about two miles farther

south, and over which the road passes in a style ten-ible to all travellers, \

is pointed out as the place where he was in the habit of drowning his i

wives, and where he was finally drowned himself. The people, who look ^

; upon the ballad as a regular and proper record of an unquestionable fact, I

I
farther affirm that May Collean was a daughter of the family of Kennedy ;

j of Culzean, now represented by the Earl of Cassillis, and that she became i

heir to all the immense wealth which her husband had acquired by his for- |
I

I
mer mal-practices, and accordingly lived happily all the rest of her days." |

j
The version we have given is the one common in Carrick. The air is par- •

< ticularly plaintive, and when sung in the simple style of the peasantry, is \

very interesting. A ballad, under the same title, and precisely similar in \

incident, is printed by Buchan in his Collection, who points out Binyan's

Bay, at the mouth of the Ugie, where Peterhead now stands, as the scene |

of "the Fause Sir John's" fate. The old minstrels were so much in the

habit of altering the names of persons and places, to suit the districts in j

which they sojourned for the time, that it is, in many instances, difficult |

38
 ; :

THE LASS OF PATIe's MILL.

I
to say to what part of the country a ballad belongs. In this case, how-
ever, as Buchan's ballad is evidently an extended version of the western \
I

one, we would be inclined to assign the paternity to Ayrshire.

Cl^c Ilas0 of latic's mill

The Lass of Patie's Mill,

So bonnie, blythe, and gay,
In spite of all my skill,
She stole my heart away.
When tedding of the hay,
Bare-headed on the green.
Love 'midst her locks did play,

And wanton'd in her een.

Her arms, white, round, and smooth,

Breasts rising in their down,

To age it would give youth,

To press 'em with his hand
Thro' all my spirits ran
An cxtacy of bliss,
When I such sweetness found
Wrapt in a balmy kiss.

Without the help of art,

Like flowers which grace the wild,
She did her sweets impart.
Whene'er she spoke or smil'd.

Her looks they were so mild,

Free from affected pride,

She me to love beguil'd

I wish'd her for my bride.

39
 —

THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS.

O, had I all that wealth,

Hopeton's high mountains* fill,

Insured long life and health,

And pleasure at my will;

I'd promise and fulfil.

That none but bonnie she,

The Lass of Patie's Mill,

Should share the same wi' me.

In reference to this song Burns says —" The following anecdote I had from
the present Sir William Cunningham of Robertland, who had it from the

last John, Earl of Loudoiin. The then Earl of Loudoun, and father to

Earl John before-mentioned, had Ramsay at Loudoun, and one day walk-
ing together by the banks of Irvine water, near Newmiils, at a place

called Patie's Mill, they were struck with the appearance of a beautiful
country girl. His Lordship observed that she would be a fine theme for

a song. Allan lagged behind in returning to Loudoun Castle, and at din-

ner produced this identical song.'' As the air is older than Ramsay's day,

it has been conjectured that there was another song entitled " The Lass
of Patie's Mill ;" and it has even been said that the daughter of John An-

derson of Patie's Mill, in the parish of Keith-hall, was the original beauty

celebrated. It is possible that this may be the case, though it is rather

curious that none of the alleged old version has been shown to exist. The
truth of the anecdote related by Burns, howevei', cannot well be doubted.

Cfie ISattle of lentlan^ itJiUs.

The gallant Grahams cam' from the west,

Wi' their hoi'ses black as ony craw ;

The Lothian lads they marched fast,

To be at the Rhyns o' Gallowa.

* Thirty-three miles south-west of Edinburgh, where the Earl of Hopeton's mines

*
of gold and lead are. Cromf.k.
 ; ;; ; ;

THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS.

Betwixt Dumfries town and Argyle,

The lads they marched mony a mile
Souters and^taylors^unto them drew,

Their covenants for to renew.

The whigs, they, wi' their merry cracks,

Gar'd the poor pedlars lay down their packs
But aye sinsyne they do repent
The renewing o' their covenant.

At the Mauchline Muir, where they were reviewed,

Ten thousand men in armour showed
But, ere they came to the Brockie's Burn,
The half o' them did back return.

General Dalyell, as^I hear tell,

Was our lieutenant-general

And captain Welsh, wi' his wit and skill,
Was to guide them on to the Pentland Hill.

General Dalyell held to the hill.

Asking at them what was their will

And who gave them this protestation,

To rise in arms against the nation ?

" Although we all in armour be,

It's not against his majesty :

Nor yet to spill our neighbour's bluid.

But wi' the country we'll conclude."

" Lay down your arms, in the king's name,

And ye shall a' gae safely hame ;"

But they a' cried out, wi' ae consent,

" We'll fight a broken covenant."

" O well," says he, " since it is so,

;"
A wilfu' man never wanted woe

41
 — ; :

THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS.

He then gave a sign unto his lads.

And they drew up in their brigades.

The trumpets blew, and the colours flew.

And every man to his armour drew

The whigs were never so much aghast,

As to see their saddles toom so fast.

The cleverest men stood in the van,

The whigs they took their heels and ran

But such a raking was never seen,

As the raking o' the Rullien Green.

Episcopacy was proclaimed in 1662 —the Earl of Glencairn taking an

active part in its establishment. The burghs, at the same time, were or-

dered to elect none as magistrates who were of fanatical principles, or sus-

i pected of disloyalty —a command which was pretty generally obeyed.

I
Ayr and Irvine, however, became obnoxious from their opposition. In

\ 1064 they were directed to choose quite diflPerent magistrates from those

I
who had refused to make the declaration exacted from all AA'ho held public

I trust. During the spring of 1663, about two-thirds of the churches in

\ the west had been deprived of their ministers, under the operation of

i what was called the Glasgow act.* The difficulty experienced in supply-

ing the churches, and the disturbances occasioned thereby, are matters of
< history. A series of letters between Alexander Burnet, Archbishop of
' Glasgow, and the Eai'l of Eglinton, at this period,t show the extreme
< anxiety of that ecclesiastic, amidst the opposition against which he had to

( contend, in the performance of his duty. We shall quote one or two of

1 the more interesting. The following is the first which has fallen into our i

< hands :
;

I
" My deare Lord, I

I
" Since I had the honour to got you'r Lo. have had a
last, I \

\ very bad account of your friends and vassalls at Draigliorne and must
; |

5 * According to Wodrow, of the fifty-seven ministers in the Presbyteries of Ayr

^

and Irvine, thirty wore " outed" in 16G3. More, however, were expelled in 1666-7, \
I

\
and in 1G71.

\ f Found amongst the Family Papers at Auchans.

42
 -

TIIE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS.

say (if it be as the report goes) they deserve to be made examples to

others. I like it the worse that the minister hath not yett beene "with
me to and I am cred-
giue ane account of their obedience, as he promised ;

ibly informed by others that the young man is under a great consterna-
tion, and much discouraged, and resolves rather to remoue than complain.
However, I shall not say much till I receave a more exact account of all.
Only I thought it my duety to acquaint your Lo. with what I heard be-
fore I tooke any other course and to entreate your Lo. to consider of
;

what consequence it may be to have it reported that persons in whom

your Lo. is interested, and for whom you have undertaken, should so
transgresse and affront the laws and how much it will reflect upon me
;

to winke at yor. Lo.'s friends and relations, when vthers for lesser of-
fences are severely proceeded against. 1 am bound for many reasons to
tender your Lo.'s honour more than others, which makes me use this
freedome with your Lo. and shall never be wanting to give you the
;

most ample testimonial I can of tliat respect which is due to you, from
" My Lord,
" Your very humble and faith-
•* Glasgow, Aug. 11th, "full servant,
"16G4. " Alex. Glascuen."

The Earl of Eglinton replied with spirit as follows : —

" May it please your Grace,
" I receaved yors of the 11th instant, and though itbe trew (as
yor. Lop. sayes) the report goes that my freinds and vassills in dreghorne
are guilty of that hinous breatch of the Laws, yett I hop I haue not giuen
so litell ore bad proof of my
forward afectionetnes to his maties. service,
or the church government, as that ther is ground given in the liest to
I charge ther fault upoun me ffor the evidence yor. Lop. gives of that
;

; people's disobedience, qch. is ye minister you sent them hes not keip his
< promise in coming to giue yor. Lop. ane acompt, I doe not sie a Avorss;
J
and of this consequence, and I supose vpon search, it shall be found that
< that minister hath bein more from his people, since I had the honor to see
I
yor. Lop. last, then they haue been from him and though yor. Lop. be ;

I
pleased to say I undertook for them, I am confident yor. Lop. means noe
f more but a wndertaking in my station to sie ye law put in execution
;; against such as should be found delinquents. And, my Lord, if I be
J
rightly informed, thes of dreghorn are neither amongst the chief ti'ans-
j
gressors, nor amongst thes who haue mett with the gretest leanitie. Only,
< I confess a few of them are my tenants but if by that severer dealing,
;

1 which yor. Lop. sayes others have mett Avith, yor. Lop. doe mean my ten-
;
nants in Egilsliam and Eastwood (who wanted a minister), who were,
I
upon Sunday last, kicp wtliin the church doors by a party of soldiurs,
I with muskitts and fyred matches, from ten in ye morning to six of the
clok at night, many of them baiten and all of them sore afrighted, I shall
I

43
 ;

THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS.

remitt it to yor. Lop.'s consideration whither the Law or gospill docs most |

warand this practiss ; and shall wish more tender usadge towards tlie re-
lations off,
"My Lord, &c."
" Montgomeriestoun,
" 17th August, 1664."

The remainder of the correspondence refers chietly to the presentation of

incumbents, in which the Earl shows considerable judgment in selecting

suitable parties. All the efforts, however, of the dignitaries of the Church,

or the patrons, could not overcome the deep-rooted principle of presby-

terianism. Writing to his Lordship on the 29th September, 1666, the

Bishop says —" Our ministers meet with so many discouragements and
difficulties that many of them begin to despaire of remedy." At length
the persecution to which the non-complying clergy were subjected, and

the heavy fines levied from their adherents, produced open resistance.

Though the rising had its origin in Kirkcudbrightshu-e and Dumfries-

shire, where Sir James Turner, a soldier of fortune, was employed in levy-

ing the fines imposed on the non-conformists, yet the greater portion of
the men and money ultimately engaged in it were furnished by Ayrshire.
" At Mauchliue Muir, where they were reviewed,
Ten thousand men in armour showed."
So says the ballad of RuUien Oreen, as given in the " Minstrelsy of the

Border." But the rhymster was no friend to the Whigs ; and he seems
to have taken a poet's license as to facts. The insurgent force never

amounted to more than three thousand men, in place of ten thousand i

and the host of the Covenanters was not reviewed at all on Mauchline i

Muir. Colonel Wallace, who commanded it, halted there, to be sm-e, on \

his way from Edinburgh —where he was residing when the rising com- \

menced — to the west country, with a small party he had collected in his I

progress, to put himself at the head of the main body. On arriving at <

Ayr, Colonel Wallace found the Covenanters, who had previously been j

billeted in the town, encamped near the Bridge of Doon. Neither his- ;

tory nor tradition mentions the precise spot of encampment ; but it was, ;

in all likelihood, upon tlie rising ground at the east end of Newark Hill, s

where a large fiat stone lies as a memorial, it is said, of the people having |

there assembled to witness the destruction of one of the ships of the Span- I

44
 THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS.

ish Armada. A stronger position could not have been selected. Almost
immediately on the arrival of Colonel Wallace, the resolution was adopted
of moving eastwards towards the capital. From the prostrate and dis-

pirited state of the country at the time, and the hurried and inconsiderate

nature of the movement, the friends of the cause did not rally round the
standard of the Covenant in such numbers, and with the alacrity expect-

ed. A vast accession of strength, however, was calculated upon in their

progress eastward. The march was accordingly commenced on Wednes-

day, the 21st November. Aware that Dalziel, at the head of a consider-

able body of cavalry, had come as far as Glasgow to oppose them, the
Covenanters proceeded slowly notwithstanding, with the view of affording
their friends ample opportunity to join them. The first night they halted \

not far from Gadgirth House, on the water of Ayr. Next day they moved >

on towards Ochiltree, on the road to which a rendezvous had been ap- |

pointed, where they met a party of friends from Cuninghame.* While I

assembling in the field appropriated for the purpose, they had sermon from J

Mr Gabriel Semple. The principal body thereafter marched into Ochil- |

tree —a portion of the cavalry keeping guard without the town. The
officers were quartered in the house of Sir John Cochrane, who was friendly
to the cause. Their welcome, however, was somewhat cold. Sir John not
being at home —and the lady, as stated by Colonel Wallace, professed not

to " see their call." From thence the Covenanters directed their course

by Cumnock, Muirkirk, Douglas, Lanark —their numbers increasing so |

slowly that it was deliberated whether the enterprise should not be aban- \

doned. They resolved, however, still to persevere, in defiance of every -

discouragement. Between Lanark and Collinton, w hich village is within

a few miles of Edinburgh, the little army of Colonel Wallace, from the \

sevei-ity of the weather and the privations to which they were subjected,

had diminished almost to a third. Disheartened — for their friends did |

not turn out as they were led to hope — and suffering from fatigue, they |

were by no means in a fit condition to face an enemy. They were not \

* Wodrow gives a curious account of a meeting of certain gentlemen of Cuning- j

hame and Rcnfrewsbire, -who intended to have joined Wallace. They were, however, |

taken prisoners, and had their estates conftscated. The place of meeting was at \

Chitterflat, in the parish of Beitli. !

 THE BATTLE OF PENTLAND HILLS. ^
only ill armed and undisciplined, but ill officered —there not being above
j

five officers amongst them who had been in the ai-my. Wallace, however,

was himself a soldier of indomitable resolution, and no small capacity as a

commander. Learning that Dalziel, with his troops, was immediately in

the rear, he diverged from the main road to Edinburgh towards the Pent-

land Hills, where he drew up his ill-conditioned army in order of battle, I

and awaited the approach of the king's forces. The cavalry were divided j

into two sections —the one on the right, and the other on the left of the J

infantry, which was a heterogenous, half-armed mass. The whole did \

not amount to more than 900 men ; while the well-equipped force under |

Dalziel is said to have numbered about 3000. Dalziel attempted to turn j

the left wing of the Covenanters, but he was gallantly repulsed ; and had
j

Wallace at that moment possessed forces sufficient to have taken advantage i

of the confusion which ensued, the battle might have been his own. A f

similar attempt on the right w ing was repulsed with equal bravery ; but a

third onset, directed against the body of foot in the centre, proved decisive |

of the day. They were thrown into irretrievable confusion, and the battle
became a rout. Colonel Wallace escaped unpursued from the field, and \

afterwards found his way to the Continent. He died at Rotterdam, in l

1678, one of the most esteemed, perhaps, of all the Scottish exiles of that \

time. Colonel Wallace had adopted the military profession at an early j

period of his life. He distinguished himself in the parliamentary army I

during the civil war, in which he rose to the rank of Lieut. -Colonel. He |

served in the Marquis of Argyle's regiment in Ireland from 1642 till 1645, }

I
when he was recalled to aid in opposing Montrose, by whom he was taken

j
prisoner at the battle of Kilsyth. In 1650, when Charles II. came from \

the Continent at the entreaty of the Scottish parliament, two regiments

I |

being ordered to be embodied of " the choicest of the army, and fitted for
I

\ that trust," one of horse and another of foot, as his body guards, Wallace

I
was appointed Lieut. -Colonel of the foot regiment, under Lord Lorn, who |

was Colonel. Sir James Balfour, Lord Lyon King at Arms, by his Ma- |

jesty's command, set down the devices upon the ensigns and colours of these |

regiments. Those of the Lieut. -Colonel [Wallace] were azure, a unicorn j

argent, and on the other side, in " grate gold letters," these words, " Cov- \

enant for religion, King and Kingdoms." At the battle of Dunbar, Wal-

46
 —

HUGHIE GRAHAM.

lace was again made prisoner. He obtained his freedom, however, in the

end of that year. From the Restoration in 1660, he seems to have lived \

in retirement, until November, 1666, when he headed the Covenanters at

|

Pentland. Colonel Wallace possessed the estate of Auchans, the mansion- \

house of which, now in ruins, is situated in the vicinity of Dundonald I

Castle. His family were a branch of the Wallaces of Craigie. He was >

the last of the name that owned the property, having disposed of it, be- >

fore engaging in the insurrection, to his relative Sir William Cochrane

|

of Cowdon, the progenitor of the Lords Dundonald. The parties <

against whom the doom of forfeiture was pronounced by act of Parlia- I

ment in 1669, as participators in the outbreak, were —" Collonell James ?

Wallace, Joseph Lermonth, M'Clellane of Barscobe, Mr John i

Welsh, master James Smith, Patrick Listoun in Calder, William Listoun ?

his son, William Porterfield of Quarreltoun, William Mure of Caldwell, |

Caldwell, eldest son to the goodman of Caldwell, Robert Ker of |

> Kersland, Mr John Cuninghame of Bedlan, Alexander Porterfield, bro- 5

I
ther to Quarreltoun, John Maxwell of Monreith younger, M'Clellan i

I
of Belmagachan, Mr Gahriell Semple, Mr John Guthrie, Mr Alexander i

I Pedan, Mr William Veitch, Mr John Crookshanks, and Patrick M'Naught I

I in Cumnock." History of Ayrshire.

Our lords are to the mountains gane,

A hunting o' the fallow deer.

And they have gripet Hughie Graham,

For stealing o' the bishop's mare.

And they have tied him hand and foot,

And led him up thro' Stirling town ;

The lads and lasses met him there.

Cried, Hughie Graham, thou art a loon.

47
 ; ;

HUGHIE. GRAHAM.

O lowse my right hand free, he says,

And put my braid sword in the same ;

He's no in Stirling town this day.

Dare tell the tale to Hughie Graham.

Up then bespake the brave Whitefoord,

As he sat by the bishop's knee.
Five hundred white stots I'll gi'e you,

If you'll let Hughie Graham gae fi-ee.

O baud your tongue, the bishop says,

And wi' your pleading let me be :

For tho' ten Grahams were in his coat,

Hughie Graham this day shall die.

Up then bespake the fair Whitefoord,

As she sat by the bishop's knee

Five hundred white pence I'll gie to you.

If you'll gi'e Hughie Graham to me.

O baud your tongue, now lady fair,

And wi' your pleading let me be;

Altho' ten Grahams were in his coat,

It's for my honour he maun die.

They've ta'en him to the gallows knowe.

He looked to the gallows tree.

Yet never colour left his cheek.

Nor ever did he blink his e'e.

At length he looked round about,

To see whatever he could spy
And there he saw his auld father,

And he was weeping bitterly.

O baud your tongue, my father dear.

And wi' your weeping let it be ;

48
 ;

HUGHIE GRAHAM.

Thy weeping's sairer on my heart

Than a' that they can do to me.

And ye may gi'e my brother John

My sword that's bent in the middle clear,

And let him come at twelve o'clock,

And see me pay the bishop's mare.

And ye may gi'e my brother James

My sword that's bent in the middle brown,

And bid him come at four o'clock,
And see his brother Hugh cut down.

Remember me to Maggie my wife.

The neist time ye gang o'er the muir,

Tell her she staw the bishop's mare,

Tell her she was the bishop's w — e.

And ye may tell my kith and kin,

I never did disgrace their blood

And when they meet with the bishop's cloak.

To mak' it shorter by the hood.

Burns says, in his " Notes on Scottish Song," " there are several editions
of this ballad. This here inserted is from oral tradition in Ayrshu-e, where,
I

I
when I was a boy, it was a popular song. It originally had a simple old
s tune, which I have forgotten." The poet is somewhat mistaken, however.
He makes the scene of the tragedy Stirling, whereas it should be CarUsle.

The Bishop of Carlisle, it is said, about 1560, seduced the wife of Hughie
Graham, a Scottish borderer. In revenge Graham stole from the bishop

a fine mare, but was taken and executed, the bishop being resolved to re-

move the main obstacle to the indulgence of his guilty passion. " Bm'ns \

did not choose," says Cromek, " to be quite correct in stating, that this

copy of the ballad of Ilur/hie Orahani is printed from oral tradition in

Ayrshire. The truth is, that four of the stanzas are either altered or sup-

per-added by himself. Of this number the third and eighth are original;

the ninth and tenth have received his original corrections. Perhaps pathos
 —

HUGHIE GRAHAM.

was never more touching than in the picture of the hero singhng out his
poor aged father from the crowd of spectators ; and the simple grandeur
of preparation for this afflicting circumstance, in the verse that immediately

precedes it, is matchless. That the reader may jaroperly appreciate the

value of Burns' touches, I here subjoin two verses from the most correct

copy of the ballad, as it is printed in the ' Border Minstrelsy.'

* He looked over his left shoulder.

And for to see what lie might sec,
There was he aware of his auld father.
Came tearing his hair most piteouslic.

*O haud your tongue, my father, he says.

And see that ye dinna weep for me !

For they may ravish me o' my life.

But they canna banish me from heaven hie.' "

Though the incidents of this ballad belong to the border, the fact of its popu-

larity in Ayi'shire, and especially having undergone the improving "touches"

of Burns, as stated by Cromek, on the authority of the Poet's widow, fully

warrant us in giving it a place among the " Ballads and Songs of

Ayrshire." — one of whom represented as having
The Whitefuords is

interceded for " Hughie Graham " — are well known as an ancient family

in Renfrewshire and Lanarkshire, and latterly in Ayrshire. Nisbet says

" The eldest branch of this family is Whitefoord of Blairquhan, in the shire of \

Air, descended of a younger son of Whitefoord of that Ilk and Miltoun, who \

took up his residence in the shire of Air with his brother who was Abot |

of Crosragwall in the reign of King James IV." The Whitefords were >

\ not in possession of Blairquhan till much latter than 1560, the assigned

I
era of the ballad ; still they may have been in a position to interfere for the

life of the borderer. It was not unusual for persons of influence to inter- |

est themselves in behalf of criminals of a deeper die than " Hughie Gra-

j
ham." In Auchinleck House there is a half-length portrait of a noted

sheep-lifter of the name of Gilchrist, whose life had been twice preserved
through the influence and legal tact of Lord Auchinleck, while an advo- \

cate at the Scottish bar. As his lordship was not elevated to the bench

till 1750, the circumstance must have occurred about a hundred years ago.
Gilchrist was an extraordinary character. He had his dog so well train-

ed that he required only to point out a particular sheep in a flock, though

60
 ; ;

THE BATTLE OF LOUDOXJN HILL.

at several miles distance, and the collie was sure to separate it from the
; rest — driving it away round the hills, apart from his master altogether,

so as to prevent suspicion, till they met at a convenient spot beyond obser-

j
vation. Sheep-lifting was then a more heinous crime in the eye of the law

j
than it is at present, and few found guilty of the offence escaped the gal-

lows. Gilchrist being a native of Auchinleck parish — or at least of the

'<
neighbourhood —probably caused Boswell to take a greater interest in his

I fate ; and, as already stated, he twice succeeded in pleading his cause so

j
well that no condemnation followed. The last time, however, he seriously |

i warned him to refrain from his mal-practices in future ; for it was not at I

all probable he could be again so fortunate. Gilchrist thanked his bene- <
I

( factor for his advice ; but in the genuine spirit of a freebooter, candidly j

< admitted that he could not forbear the lifting of sheep. It had become |

I
natural to him, he said, and if he must be hanged he could not help it. ;

i He might as well die on the gallows as anywhere else. As predicted by >

I
Boswell, the third time did not prove canny for honest Gilchrist. He ;

I
was tried, condemned, and executed. The portrait of him at Auchinleck i

I was taken while he lay in prison. He seems to have been a person of '',

considerable intellect ; but the eye wears an expression of determination

; characteristic of the man.

^f^t laattlc of iloutioun ^lU

You'l marvel when I tell ye o'

Our noble Burly, and his train

When last he march'd up thro' the land,

AVi' sax-and-twenty westland men.

Than they I ne'er o' braver heard.

For they had a' baith wit and skill

They proved right well, as I heard tell,

As they cam' up o'er Loudoun Hill.

Weel prosper a' the gospel lads.

That are into the west countrie ;

 ; ! !;; ;

Ay wicked Claver'se to demean,

And ay an ill dead may he die

For he's drawn up i' the battle rank,

An' that balth soon and hastilie j

But they wha live till simmer come.

Some bludie days for this will see.

But up spak' cruel Claver'se then,

Wi' hastie wit, an' wicked skUl

" Gi'e fire on yon westlan' men
I think it is my sov'reign's will."

But up bespake his cornet, then,

" It's be wi' nae consent o' me

I ken I'll ne'er come back again,

And mony mae as weel as me.

" There is not ane of a' yon men.

But wha is worthy other three
There is na ane amang them a',

That in his cause will stap to die.

" An' as for Burly, him I knaw ;

He's a man of honour, birth, and fame

Gi'e him a sword into his hand.

He'll fight thysel' an' other ten."

But up spake wicked Claver'se then,

I wat his heart it raise fu' hie I

And he has cried that a' might hear,

" Man, ye ha'e sair deceived me.

" I never ken'd the like afore,

Na, never since I came frae hame,

That you so cowardly here suld prove.

An' yet come of a noble Gra?me."

 ;! —

THE BATTLE OF LOUDOUN HELL.

But up bespake his cornet, then,

" Since that it is your honour's will,

Mysel' shall be the foremost man,

That shall gi'e fire on Loudoun Hill.

" At your command I'll lead them on.

But yet wi' nae consent o' me

For weel I ken I'll ne'er return,

And mony mae as weel as me."

Then up he drew in battle rank ;

I wat he had a bonnie train !

But the first time that bullets flew.

Ay he lost twenty o' his men.

Then back he came the way he gaed,

I wat right soon and suddenly
He gave command among his men,
And sent them back, and bade them flee.

Then up came Burly, bauld an' stout,

Wi's little train o' westland men ;

Wha mair than either aince or twice

In Edinburgh confined had been.

They ha'e been up to London sent.

An' yet they're a' come safely down ;

Sax troop o' horsemen they ha'e beat,

And chased them into Glasgow town.

The " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border" —from which the foregoing bal- [

lad is copied — does not say from what source it was obtained ; whether \

from MS. or recitation. The affair to which it refers is well known \

not only historically, but as interwoven with one of the Author of Waver- \

ley's most interesting national fictions. The battle of Loudoun Hill, or

Drumclog-, was fought on Sabbath, the 1st of June, 1679 — Claverhouse, \

with a party of dragoons from Glasgow, having come upon the Cove- x

53
 THE BATTLE OF LOUDOUN HILL.

nanters while engaged in worship near the base of the hill. The latter

I
were headed by Robert Hamilton, brother of Sir Robert Hamilton of
Preston, Balfour or Burly of Kinloch, and Hackston of Rathillet. They

I
obtained a complete victory over Claverhouse, who was compelled to seek

< safety in flight. His nephew, Robert Graham, the " cornet " of the ballad
i
—who seems to have had some foreboding of his fate —was left dead on
' the field. With the exception of William Clealand, who, along with Hack-

{
ston, led on the foot, the history of all the others who took a prominent

i part in the conflict is familiar to most readers. Of his parentage little

I is known but ; there can be no doubt that they were respectable. He was
'(
born in 1671, so that, at the battle of Drumclog, he would be no more
i than eighteen years of age. He held the rank of Captain both there and

5 at the disastrous affair at Bothwell Brig. His enthusiasm in the cause

I may be guessed from the fact of his having been attending his classes at
'>
the college immediately prior to the rising. Whether he afterwards went
abroad is unknown. If so, he must have returned in the equally unfor-
I

tunate expedition of Argyle, for he is known to have passed the " summer
5 of 1685 in hiding among the wilds of Clydesdale and A}Tshire." After the

I
Revolution, Clealand w£is rewarded for his zeal and consistency by having

\ conferred upon him the appointment of Lieutenant-Colonel of the Camer-

l
onian Regiment, of which the Earl of Anjrus was Colonel. Clealand did

\ not long enjoy his preferment. In 1689, immediately after the battle of
,' Killicrankie, he was despatched to the Highlands with a small force, as an
'(
advanced corps of observation. Taking post at Dunkeld, he was sur-
rounded by the remains of that army whom Dundee had so often led to

\ victory. Though he had only 800 men to oppose 4000, he gallantly re- i

I solved to fight to the last, declaring to his soldiers " that, if they chose to

desert him, he would stand out by himself, for the honour of the regiment
< and the good cause in which he was engaged." His enthusiasm produced
a corresponding spirit amongst the Cameronians. The town of Dunkeld

[
was attacked by the Highlanders in the most determined manner ; but
t they were met with such resolution that they were ultimately compelled

l to retire, leaving three hundred dead on the field. This, the most gallant

I action during the whole of the civil war of that period, was dearly pur-
chased by the death of the Colonel himself. While encouraging his sol-
 f diers " in front of Dunkeld House, two bullets pierced his head, and one
his liver, simultaneously. He turned about, and endeavoured to get back
I
into the house, in order that his death might not discourage
'
his men ; but
he fell before reaching the threshhold." This occurred on the 21st of
August, 1089. Clealand was a poet as well as a soldier.
When at col-
lege he wrote a continuation of " Holloa, my Fancy," which
described is

in a note to the " Minstrelsy" as " a wild raphsody," but

which, neverthe-
; less, displays much talent in so young a writer. In the lines

" Fain would I know if beasts have any reason

I !

Iffalcons, killing eagles, do co^nmit a treason,"

I

Sir Walter Scott discovered the anti-monarchial principles

\
of the youth-
ful hero. But, taking the whole scope of the poem into consideration,
we
think no such inference can be justly drawn. Besides, the principles of the

\
Cameronians or Covenanters were not anti-monarchial. Colonel Clealand
was the author of several other poems— one in particular on the descent
I

of the " Highland Host" in 768— written in the Hudibrastic style. His
1

>
poems were published in 1697— nine years after his death. In connection
with the battle of Drumclog, it is mentioned in the Statistical
I
Account of
I
Loudoun Parish, that when Captain Nisbet of Ilardhill, who commanded
the Loudoun troops at Bothwell, was on his way to Drumclog on the
I
morning of the battle, he, in passing Darvel, induced John I^Iorton, smith,
to « accompany him to the field, where his brawny arm would
j find suffi-
cient occupation. John followed Nisbet
1
in the charge. A royal dra-
goon, who was on the ground, entangled in the trappings of his wounded \

horse, begged quarter from John, whose arm was uplifted

to cut him \

down. The dragoon's Hfe was spared, and he was led by the smith as a
\
prisoner to the camp of the Covenanters. But the life which was spared \

on the field of battle was demanded by those who saw, in the royal farty,
I
not merely cruel persecutors but idolatrous
^ Amalekiles, whom they were
bound in duty to execute. The smith declared, that, sooner than give
I
up |

his prisoner's he would

life, forfeit his own ! The dragoon's life, thus |

defended, by the powerful smith, was spared,

but the smith was banished |

from the army as a disobedient soldier. The dragoon's sword is now in )

the possession of John Morton's

representative, Andrew Gebbie in Dar- |

vel." The vicinity of Loudoun Hill Avas the scene of various warlike ex-
]
 ; ;

o'er the moor AMANa THE HEATHER.

ploits. A battle is understood to have been fought here with the Romans
and here Wallace and Bruce were victorious over the English in two sep-
arate exploits.

©'et ti)e MoQX amang tije ?^catf)ct.

Comin' thro' the Craigs o' Kyle,*

Amang the bonnie blooming heather,

There I met a bonnie lassie

Keeping a' her yowes thegether.

O'er the moor amang the heather,

O'er the moor amang the heather,

There I met a bonnie lassie

Keeping a' her yowes thegether.

Says I, my dear, where is thy hame,

In moor or dale, pray tell me whether ?

She says, I tent the fleecy flocks,

That feed amang the blooming heather.

O'er the moor, &c.

We laid us down upon a banlc,

Sae warm and sunny was the weather ;

She left her flocks at large to rove,

Amang the bonnie blooming heather.

O'er the moor, &c.

While thus we lay she sang a sang,

Till echo rang a mile and farther

* The Craigs o' Kyle are a range of small hills about a mile south of the village of \

I Coilton, in the parish of that name. ^

56 m
 !

o'er the moor amang the heather.

And aye the burden o' the sang

Was — o'er the moor amang the heather.

O'er the moor, &c.

She charm'd my heart, an' aye sin syne,

I coudna think on ony ither :

By sea and sky she shall be mine

The bonnie lass amang the heather.

O'er the moor, &c.

Burns communicated this song to " Johnson's Scots Musical Museum ;"

and in his " Remarks on Scottish Songs and Ballads," he states, in lan-

guage somewhat rude, that it " is the composition of a Jean Glover, a

girl who was not only a , but also a thief; and in one or other char-
acter has visited most of the correction houses in the west. She was
born, I believe, in Kilmarnock : I took the song down from her singing
as she was strolling with a slight-of-hand blackguard through the coun-
try." Though the song alluded to has been long popular, and copied into

numerous collections, this is all that has hitherto transpired respecting

Jeanie Glover, That the song was her own we are left in no manner of
doubt ; for it must be inferred, from the positive statement of the Poet,

that she had herself assured him of the fact. It is well that Burns ex-
pressed himself in decided language ; for otherwise it would scarcely be
credited that one of our sweetest and most simple lyrics should have been
I

> the production of a person whose habits and course of life were so irregu-

I
lar. When at Muirkii'k, we were fortunate enough to learn a few par-

ticulars relative to Jeanie Glover. A niece of hers still resides there,* and
\ one or two old people distinctly remember having seen her. She was born
} at theTownhead of Kilmarnock on the 31st October, 1758, of parents re-

I
spectable in their sphere. t That her education was superior, the circum-
l stances of her birth \^•ill not permit us to believe ; but she was brought up

* A sister's son and daughter also live at the Sorn.

f " James Glover, weaver in Kilmarnock, and Jean Thomson, both their first mar-
riages,had their 3d child born on Tuesday, October 31, 1758, and baptized Jean, on
Sabbath, Nov. 5, 175S, by Mr John Cunningliam, minister, Dalmellington. Extracted —
from the Register of Births and Baptisms of the Town and Parish of KiUnarnock,
upon the 17th day of January, 1839. Wm. Anderson, Sess. Clk."
 in the principles of rectitude, and had the advantage of that early instruc-

tion which few Scottish families are without. She was remarkable for

beauty —both of face and figure — properties which, joined to a romantic

and poetic fancy, had no doubt their influence in shaping her future un-

fortunate career. She was also an excellent singer. Until within these
few years, Kilmarnock had no theatre, or at least any building so called ;

but strolling parties of players were in the habit of frequenting the town

at fairs, and on other public occasions, sometimes performing in booths, or

in the " Croft Lodge," long known as a place of amusement. Having

been a witness to some of these exhibitions, Jeanie unhappily became en-
amoured of the stage ; and in an evil hour eloped with one of the heroes
of the sock and buskin. Her subsequent life, as may be guessed, was one
of adventure, checkered, if Burns is to be credited, with the extremes of

folly, vice, and misfortune. About the time the Iron Works commenced,
\ a brother of Jeanie (James Glover) removed from Kilmarnock to Muu--

l
kirk ; and there, in the employ of " the Company," continued until his death,

\ which occurred about fourteen years ago, leaving a daughter (the niece

I
formerly mentioned), whose husband is one of the carpenters employed at

the works. This individual, as well as several others, recollects having

I seen Jeanie and the " slight-of-hand blackguard" —whose name was Rich-
I ard — at Muii'kirk, forty-three years ago (about 1795), where they per-

\
formed for a few nights in the large room of a public-house called the
I " Black Bottle," from a sign above the door of that description, kept by

I one David Lennox. During her stay on this occasion she complimented

her brother with a cheese and a bollof meal— a circumstance strongly in-

; dicative of her sisterly affection, and the success that had attended the

\ entertainments given by her and her husband. Those persons who re-

collect her appearance at this time, notwithstanding the many viscissitudes

she must have previously encountered, describe her as exceedingly hand-

some. One old woman with whom we conversed, also remembered hav-
ing seen Jeanie at a fair in Irvine, gaily attired, and playing on a tam-
barine at the mouth of a close, in which was the exhibition-room of her
husband the conjurer. " TVeel do I remember her," said om- informant,
" an' thocht her the bravest ^Aoman I had ever seen step in leather shoon!"

Such are our INIuirkirk reminiscences of Jeanie Glover. From another

58
 ;

source we learn that she sometimes paid a theatrical visit to her native
town. One individual there, who knew her well, states that he has heard
her sing in the " Croft Lodge." The song she generally sung, and for I

which she was most famed, was " Green grow the rashes." The same i

person afterwards became a soldier ; and, being in Ireland with his regi- i

ment, happened to see Jeanie performing in the town of Letterkenny. He I

introduced himself to her acquaintance, and had the honour of her com- I

pany over a social glass. This occurred in 1801. She was then appar- I

ently in good health, gay and sprightly as when in her native country
^

but, alas! before he left Letterkenny —and he was only about two months l

in it —she was "mouldering in silent dust." She must therefore have \

died rather suddenly, in or near that town, in the year above mentioned.
|

— Contemporaries of Burns.

The black and the brown

Gang nearest the town,

John Pater son's filly gaes foremost.

The black and the grey

Gang a' their ain way,

John Paterson's filly gaes foremost.

The black and the din

They fell a' ahin,

John Paterson's filly gaes foremost.

The black and the yellow

Gae up like a swallow,

John Paterson's filly gaes foremost.

This apparently unmeaning ditty, taken from recitation, is wed to a spirited

and rather pleasant rant in imitation of the galloping of a horse. It is said ;

 ; ; ;

THE NOBLE FAMILY OF MONTGOMEUIE.

to have reference to a band of Carrick Covenanters, while passing through

Ayr, on their way to the general rendezvous at Bothwell Brig, in 1679.

The hero of the song was —according to the tradition of his descendants

— John Paterson of Ballaird, in the parish of Colmonell, who was a zeal-

ous promoter of the Covenant, and who endured no small persecution

for its sake. The author, or authors of the lines and air are, so far as

we are aware, unknown.

^i)e Noiilc dFamilg of i^ontgomerie*

A Noble Roman was the root

Prom- which Montgomeries came,
Who brought his legion from the war.
And settled the same.

Upon an Hill 'twixt Rome and Spain,

*Gomericus by name
From whom he and his offspring do
Their sir-name still retain.

From this, unto the wars of France,

Their valour did them bring.
That they great instruments might be,

To save the Gaelic king.

Here, with great splendour and renown.

Six centuries they spend :

At length for England they set sail

Ambition hath no end.

On British ground they land at length

Rodger must general be,

A cousin of the Conqueror's,

And fittest to supplie

* Mons Gomericus.

60
 ; ; ; ;

THE NOBLE FAMILT OF MONTGOMERIE.

The greatest post into the field,

The army then leads he

Into a camp, Hastings by name,

In Sussex, where you'll see

The marks of camps unto this day

And where you'll here it told.

The English king did them attack

Most Uke a captain bold ;

But soon, alas! he found it vain,

With Rodger arms to try

This M'ary officer prepares.

His projects to defy.

The strong attacks he then observes,

Which made him thence to dread,

That England's king might be among

Those who charg'd with such speed :

The life-guards straight he ordered,

Their fury to defend

When Harold, England's king, at once
His crown and life did end.

Whence to the Conqueror did come

The English sceptre great.

And William, England's king, declar'd.

To London came in state.

"Earl Rodger, then, the greatest man,

Next to the King was thought
And nothing that he could desire
But it to him was brought.

* Dugdale's Baronage, and Histoiy of England.

61
 : ;

THE NOBLE FAMILY OP NONTGOMERIE.

Montgomerie town, Montgomerie shire,

And Earl of Shrewsburie,

And Arundale, do shew this man
Of grandeur full to be.

Thus did he live all this King's reign :

For works of piety

He built an abbacie, and then
Prepar'd himself to die.

At last King WilUam yields to fate

And then his second son

Mounts on the throne, which had almost
The Idngdom quite undone :

Some for the eldest son stand up,

As Rodger's son's did all

But the usurper keeps the throne.

Which did begin their fall.

Then Philip into Scotland came,

Unable to endure,

That they who earldoms had possest,

Of nought should be secure.

I
The King of Scots well knew the worth

I
Of men of noble race.

Who in no time of ages past

Their worth did once deface.

He in the Merse gives Philip lands,

Which afterwards he soon,
With the Black Douglas did exchange

For Eastwood and Ponoon.

Where many ages they did live.

By King and country lov'd ;

 ; :

THE NOBLE FAMILY OF MONTGOMERIE.

As men of valour and renown^

Who were with honour mov'd ;

To shun no hazard when they could

To either service do ;

Thus did they Hve, thus did they spend

Their blood and money too.

At last Earl Douglas did inform,

That, to our King's disgrace,

An English earl had deeply swore.

He'd hunt in Chevyehase,

And maugre all that Scots could

Would kill and bear away
The choicest deer of Otterburn,

And best of harts would slay.

Our King set his commands unto

Sir Hugh Montgomerie,
And told him Douglas wanted men
Who fight could, but not flee.

*The stout Sir Hugh himself prepares

The Douglas to support

And with him took his eldest son

Then did they all resort

Unto the field, with their brave men,

Where most of them did die ;

Of fifteen hundred warlike Scots

Came home but fifty-three.

Douglas was slain ; Sir Hugh again

The battle did renew ;

* Histories of Stevenston.

G3

fd^
'^rir^
 ;

THE NOBLE FAMILY OF MONTGOMERIE.

He made no stand, with his own hand

The Earl Piercy he slew.

Sir Hugh was slain, Sir John maintain'd

The honour of the day

And with him brought the victory,

And Piercy's son away.

He with his ransom built Ponoon,

A Castle which yet stands ;

The King, weU pleas' d, as a reward

Did therefore give him lands.

And sometime after gave his neice,

Of Eglintoun the heii-,

To Sir Hugh's representative ;

Thus joined was this pair.

As with her came a great estate,

So by her did descend,

Her royal blood to *Lennox house.
Which did in Darnly end ;

Who father was to James the Sixth,

Of Britain the first King,
Whose royal race unto this day,

Doth o'er Great Britain reign.

Since you are come of royal blood.

And Kings are sprung from you,

See that, with greatest zeal and love,

Those virtues ye pursue

Which to those honours rais'd your house,

And shall, vv iiaout all stain,

* Earl of Lennox.

64

mfif
Wi THE NOBLE FAMILY OF MONTGOMERIE.

In heralds books' your ensigns flower'd

And counter-flower'd maintain. 5

Tins ballad is supposed to have been written about one hundred years I

ago. It gives to the noble family of Montgomerie a Roman origin. This \

may be regarded as somewhat hypothetical, however probable ; but there

\

can be no doubt that Roger de Montgomerie, the fii-st of the name in Eng- \

\
land, came over from Normandy with the Conqueror, and that he com- \

< manded the van of the invading army at the decisive battle of Hastings.
|

I What was the precise relationship between William and Montgomerie does |

i
not appear from the genealogical records ; but that the connection was I

> intimate may be inferred from the fact that he had no less than "one \

5 hundred and fifty lordships in various counties, including nearly the whole I

I
of that of Salop," conferred upon him as a reward for his services, or rather ,

5 as his share of the rich kingdom which their Norman swords had won >

\
for them. The family, however, did not long enjoy their inheritance and I

\ honours in England. Robert, the eldest son of Roger, and who sue- ;

I ceeded him in his titles and estates, having taken part with the Duke of ;

'

I Normandy against Henry I. in his claim to the Crown, forfeited the whole

I
of his possessions. He, notwithstanding, retained the property in Noi-- ;

mandy, which descended to his son, he having been himself first banish-
I

I
ed and afterwards imprisoned. This occurred in 1113.
<
" Then Philip into Scotland came"
Says the ballad, and obtained a gift of lands in the Merse, which he after-
{ wards exchanged for Eastwood and Ponoon. This does not accord with
i the descent of the family as given in the various " Peerages." Walter,

'l
and not Philip, Montgomerie, a grandson it is supposed of Earl Roger, ]

I settled in Scotland on the invitation of King David I., by whom he was

^

created Lord High Steward, and had many favours showered upon him. }
I

\ Walter appears to have died without issue. Robert de Montgomerie, the I

immediate ancestor of the Eglintoun family, who came along with Walter, i
I

obtained the manor of Eaglesham, in Renfrewshire ; which property con-

I |

tinued in the possession of his descendant until the present Earl of Eglin- \
I

toun sold it a few years ago. The death of Robert occurred in 1177. \
I

> John de Montgomerie, the lineal descendant of Robert, acquired the bar-
onies of Eglintoun and Ardrossan, in Ayrshu-c, by marriage with the heiress

n 65
 — ' —

THE NOBLE FAMILT OF MONTGOMERIE.

of Sir Hugh de Eglintoun, Knight. This lady was connected with the

royal family —her mother, Egidia, being a sister of Robert II. John de
Montgomerie, it is said, distinguished himself greatly at the battle of Ot-

terburne in 1388. The circumstance, however, is so variously recorded,

that it is difficult to say which is the correct version. According to the

J Montgomerie ballad, John, after the death of his father. Sir Hugh, who,
; when Douglas was dead, " the battle did renew," maintained the fight,

j and " brought victory and Earl Piercy's son away," Sir Hugh having pre-

j
viously slain Percy himself. The ballad of the " Battle of Otterbourne,"

given in the " Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," represents the occur-

I
rence differently. No mention whatever is made of John de Montgom-
\ erie ; and Sir Hugh —who is described as the " sister's son" of Douglas
J is represented as the captor of Percy

" The Percy and Montgomerie met,

That either of other were fain,
They swapped swords, and they twa swat,
And aye the blude ran down between.
"'Yield thee, O yield thee, Percy!' he said,
' Or else I vow I'll lay thee low !'

' Whom too shall I yield," said Early Percy,

' Now that I see it must be so ?

" ' Thou shall not yield to lord nor loun,

Nor yet shalt thou yield to me ;

But yield thee to tlie brakcn bush,

That grows upon yon lilye lee !'
" ' I will not yield to a brakcn bush.
Nor yet will I yield to a briar ;

But I would yield to Earl Douglas,

Or Sir Hugh the Montgomerie, if he were here.'

" As soon as he knew it was Montgomerie,

He stuck his sword's point in the gronde,
And the Montgomerie was a courteous knight,
And quickly took him by the honde."

The English version, on the other hand, pointedly mentions the death of
Sir Hugh—
" an English archer then perceived
The noble Earl was slain.
 THE NOBLE FAJnLT OF MONTGOMERIE.

"He had a bow bent in bis hand,

Made of a trusty tree.
An arrow of a cloth-yard long
Unto the head drew he.

" Against Sir Hugh Montgomerie,

So right his shaft he set.
The gray goose wing that was thereon,
In his heart-blood was wet."

Sir Walter Scott admits that the Minstrelsy ballad is inaccurate in several

particulars. But it is worthy of remark, that the inaccuracies alluded to

occur in all the ballads. "Earl Percy" is invariably spoken of as having

been present, which, according to the most authentic accounts of the affair,*

was not the case. Sir Henry Percy, eldest son of the Earl, better kno^\Ta

as Hotspur, and his brother Ralph, led on the English forces. Both were
taken prisoners —Hotspur by the Montgomerie; but whether by Sir Hugh
or John — or whether the was the son or a younger brother
latter the of

former — impossible decide. All the metrical accounts of the battle

it is to

were evidently composed long after the event itself; and tradition is sel-

dom precise in matters of detail. But that Hotspm* was taken prisoner
by one of the family of Montgomerie, is a fact apparently too well estab-

lished by concurrent testimony to be disputed. According to Crawford's

genealogy, that individual was the John de Montgomerie already men-

tioned, who, he states, lost his eldest son, Sir Hugh, in the battle, thus

differing essentially from the Montgomerie ballad as to the propinquity of

the two Montgomeries. The descendants of the heir of Otterbourne, on

whom the titles of Baron Montgomerie and Earl of Egllntoun were re-

spectively conferred in 1448 and 1507, continued in possession in a direct

male hne down to Hugh, the fifth Earl, who, dying without issue, was
succeeded by his cousin and heir, Sir Alexander Seton of Foulstruther,
whose mother, Lady Margaret, was daughter of Hugh, the third Earl of
Eglintoun, and who assumed the name of IMontgomerie. In consequence
of this connection, the noble house of Seton, as well as Montgomerie, is

* remarking this blunder, does not observe that the historians Fordun,
Scott, in —
—
and others fall into a similar error in stating that " Harry Percy himself
Froissart,
—
was taken by Lord Montgomerie" a title which none of the family possessed at that
time.

67
 THE NOBLE FAMILY OF MONTGOMERIE.

rejiresented by the present Earl of Eglintoun. The fomily, down to our

own day, has all along sustained unsullied the chivalrous character be-

queathed to them by their forefathers, the heroes of Hastings and Otter- I

bourne. Hugh, the first Earl of Eglintoun, was in especial favour with }

James IV., with whom he fought at Flodden Field, and was amongst the ;

few nobility who escaped from it. In the civil wars which followed the ;

Reformation, the Montgomeries of Eglintoun took a leading part. A |

deadly feud existed between the Eglintoun family and that of Glencairn, ;

which commenced, according to Chalmers, the author of Caledonia, about

1498, and continued till after the Union of the Crowns in 1602. The ]

feud referred to the office of A7»</'s Bailie in Cuningliame —which was i

originally held 1iy the Kjlmaurs family —but which had been conferred by \

royal charter on Alexander, first Baron IMontgomerie. On the renewal l

of this charter to his grandson, Hugh, in 1498, the feud is supposed by \

Chalmers to have first manifested itself m the hostility of Cuthbert. Lord \

Kilmaurs. This is countenanced by the fact that, according to the Great \

Seal Register, he was bound over, in February of the following year,

\

for himself and followers, to keep the peace. There is reason, ho\^ever,

for believing that the feud had commenced at an earlier period —Keir-
law Castle, in the parish of Stevenston, then possessed by the Cuning-
hames, having been sacked and partially destroyed by the Montgomeries

j
in 1488. In 1505, John, Master of Montgomerie, was summoned in Par-

I
liament for having been participant in attacking and wounding William

? Cuninghame of Craigends, the King's coroner for Renfrewshire, a rela-

I
tive of Lord Kilmaurs. The differences of the two families were at length

submitted, in 1500, to arbiters mutually chosen, who gave a decision in

favour of the Earl of Eglintoun, who \'\as declared to have a full and
heritable right to the office of Bailie of Cuninghame. This decision,
I

however, did not terminate the misunderstanding. In 1517, a remis-

sion was granted to the Master of Glencairn, and twenty-seven fol-

I
lowers, for the slaughter of Matthew Montgomerie, Archibald Caldwell,

> and John Smith, and for wounding the son and heir of the Earl of Eg-
\ lintoun. In 1528, Eglintoun Castle was attacked and burned by the same

i
Master of Glencau-n and his followers, in retaliation, it is supposed, for the

sacking of Keirlaw forty years previously. No deed of remarkable vio-

68
lence seems to have occurred between the two famihes until 1586, when
Hugh, the fourth Earl of Eglintoun — who had newly succeeded to his

father —was way-laid and shot by the Cuninghames of Robertland and

Aiket, at the river Annock. This cold-blooded murdei', instigated, it is

believed, by the Earl of Glencairn, was afterwards, as Spottiswoode ob-

serves, "honourably revenged" by the Master of Eglintoun, brother to the
deceased Earl ; but in what manner, does not appear. He, to be sure,

took possession of Robertland and Aiket, by virtue of an ordinance of the

King in Council, until the owners should deliver themselves up to justice.

But Glencairn had sufficient influence with the King to obtain a remis-
sion for the offenders, and to have the order in Council cancelled by an
act of Parhament in 1592. This did not terminate the feud. So late as

1606, while the Parliament and Council were sitting at Perth, Lord Seton
and his brother happening to meet Glencairn and his followers, a rencontre
occurred between them — the Setons having drawn their swords in revenge
for the death of their uncle the Earl of Eglintoun. The parties, however,
were separated before any material mischief was done.

Ef}t Ktri)t is ntit ©one.

Hay ! nou the day dauis.

The jolie cok crauis :

Now shrouds the shauis,

Throu natur anon.
The thissel-cok cryis

On lovers vha lyis,

Nou skaills the skyis ;

The nicht is neir gone.

The feilds our flouis

With gouans that grouis,

Quhair lilies lik lou is,

Als rid as the rone.

69
-CSfivv-
^U
 : ; ; ;

THE NICHT IS NEIE GONE.

^ The turtill that treu is,

I
With nots that reneuis,

I
Hir pairtie perseuis

I
The nicht is neir gone.

I
Nou hairts vith hynds
\ Conforme to thair kyndsj

I Hie tursis thair tynds,

t On grund vhair they grone,

J
Nou hurchonis vith hairs
s Ay passes in pairs,

I Quilk deuly declares

I The nicht is neir gone.

i The sesone excellis,

;
Thrugh sueetnes that smellis

I
Nou cupid compellis

I
Our hairts echone

j
On vinds vlia vaiks,

I To muse on our maiks,

Syn sing for thair saiks

The nicht is neir gone.

All curageous knichtis

Aganis the day dichtis

The breist plate that bricht is,

To fight with thair fone ;

The stared steed stamjjis,

Throu curage and crampis,

Syn on the land lampis
The nicht is neir gone.

The freiks on feildis.

That vicht vapens veildis,

With shyning bricht sheildis

At litan in trone.

^1 70
 — ; —

THE NICHT IS NEIB GONE.

Stiff speirs in reists,

Ouer cursors crists,

Ar brok on thair breists

The nicht is neir gone.

So hard are thair Iiittis,

Some sueyes, some settis,

And some perforce jfiittis

On grund vhill they grone.

Syn grooms that gay is

On blanks that brayis,

With suords assayis,

The nicht is neir gone.

These verses — the earUest known to the air o( Her/ tutti, tutti, or Bruce's

Address — are thought to be the composition of Alexander Montgomerie, ?

author of The Cherrie and the Slae. Montgomerie is one of the most de- |

servedly famed of our early Scottish poets. Unfortunately, few particulars 5

of his life have been preserved. Though he enjoyed a high degree of reputa- I

tion in his own day, and though his genius must have contributed greatly |

to the refinement of the age in which he lived, no contemporary pen, so far

as we are aware, has recorded a single biographical incident in his eventful
|

career. All that is known of him has been gleaned from casual documents. I

His identity was even doubted, and tradition has assigned more than one ?

locality as the scene of his musings. The fact of his being an off-shoot of
|

the noble family of Eglintoun, however, may be regarded as beyond cavil.

|

In Timothy Font's " Topography of Cunninghame" —written early in the ^

seventeenth century — the place of his birth is thus clearly indicated :

" Hasilhead Castle, a stronge old building, environed with large ditches,
\

seated on a loche, veil planted and commodiously beautified : the heritage ;

of Robert Montgomery, laird thereof. Faumes it is for ye birth of yat j

renounet poet Alexander Montgomery ." Testimony is also borne to his

identity by his nephew, Sir William Mure of Rowallan, whose mother,
EHzabeth, was a sister of the Poet. In an address to Charles I., then
Prince of Wales, Sir William says \

" Matchless Montgomery, in his native tongue,

\
 — —

THE NICHT IS NEIE GONE. l

In former times to that great sire liatli sung ;

And often ravisli'd his harmonious ear,

fit only for a Prince to hear.
AVith strains
My
Muse, which nought doth challenge -worthy fame,
Save from Montgomerij she her birth doth claim —
(Although his Phoenix ashes have sent forth
Pan for Apollo, if compared in worth)
Pretcndeth little to supply his place,
By riffht hereditar to serve thy grace."
Here we have the most satisfactory evidence of the Poet's relationship.

His father, Hugh Montgomerie of Hazlehead, parish of Beith — one of those

I
lesser Barons of Ayrshire mentioned in Keith's History as having sub-
•
scribed the famous Band in 1562 for the support of the Reformed religion

< —was the fourth in direct descent from Alexander, " Master of Eglin-

\ toune." The Poet was the second son. His elder brother, Robert, in-

^ herited the property, to which he succeeded in 1602. He had another

\ brother, Ezekeil, who became possessed of Westlands, in the parish of Kil-

\ barchan, which he purchased from his relative Lord Sempill —besides two
\ sisters, Margaret and Elizabeth, the latter of whom married Sir William

\
Mure of Rowallan, father of the Sir William Mure already alluded to.

\ The year of Montgoraerie's birth is not precisely known. He has him-

i self, however, recorded the day on which he first saw the light

\
" Quhy wes my mother blyth when I wes borne ?
i Quhy heght the weu-ds ray weilfair to advance ?
I Quhy wes my birth on Eister day at morne ?
\ Quhy did Apollo then appeir to dance ?
i Quhy gaiv he me good morow with a glance ?
J Quhy leugh he in his golden chair and lap,
\ Since that the Kevins are hindcrers of my hap ?"

From collateral circumstances, however, it may be inferred that he was

^

j:
born about the year 1540. Of the early habits and education of Mont-

l
gomerie the world is equally ignorant. It has been supposed that he was

\
brought up, or had spent at least a portion of his youth, in Argyleshire.

\
Hume of Polwart, in one of the flyting epistles which ensued between

\
them, alludes to the Poet's having passed
" Into Argyle some lair to leir ;"
I

I
and Dempster, apparently corroborative of the facts, remarks that he was

;
usually designated eques Montanus — a phrase synonymous with ' Highland
72
 — ; — ; ;

THE NICHT IS NEIB GONE.

trooper." Of his personal appearance, all that we know is from his own
pen. Reasoning with his " maistres," he says

" Howbeit zour beuty far and breid be blaune,

I thank my God, I shame not of my shap

If ze be guid, the better is zour auin.

And he that getis zou, lies the better hap."

Again
" Zit I am not so covetous of Icynd,
Bot I prefer my plesur in a pairt
Though I be laich, I beir a miohtie mynd
I count me rich, can 1 content my hairt."

That the Poet had been in the military service of his country at some
period or other, is presumable from the prefix of Captain being generally
associated with his name. He is well known, at aU events, to have been
attached to the Court both during the Regency of Morton, and for some

time after the assumption of power by James VI. A pension of five

\ hundred marks,* payable from, the rents of the Archbishopric of Glasgow,

\ was granted to him in 1583 ; and in 158G he set out on a tour of the Con-
{ tinent, having obtained the royal license of absence for a period of five

5 years. No memorials of his travels remain, farther than it appears from

\ an entry in the Register of the Privy Seal, that "while abroad his pension
;
had been surreptitiously withheld, and he was thrown into prison, " to his

\
great hurt, hinder, and prejudice." The grant, in consequence of a me-
j
morial from the Poet, was renewed and confirmed in 1589 : but it seems
5 to have occasioned a protracted law-suit to enfore payment of the sums
\
due to him. Of this his " Sonnets," preserved by Drummond of Haw-
\ thornden, afford abundant evidence ; and he hesitates not to accuse the

I Lords of Session of a perversion of justice. Like most courtiers, Mont-

\
gomerie had experienced the fickleness of fortune, at best capricious, but
\ proverbially so -when dependent on the smiles of royalty. The precise date
5 of Montgomerie's death is as uncertain as his birth. There is good reason,
^
however, for believing that his demise did not occur until between 1605

\ and 1GI5.

* £333, 63. Sd. sterling

73
 ; ; ;

LOUDOUN CASTLE.

Eoutfoutr (Kastle.

It fell about the Martinmas time,

When the wind blew snell and cauld,
That Adam o' Gordon said to his men,
When vv'ill we get a hold.

See not where yonder fair castle \

Stands on yon lily lee

|

The laird and I hae a deadly feud, |

The lady fain would I see. I

As she was tip on the househead, I

Behold on looking down >

She saw Adam o' Gordon and his men \

Coming riding to the town. •

i

The dinner was not well set down, >

Nor the grace was scarcely said, \

Till Adam o' Gordon and his men |

About the walls were laid. \

It's fause now fa thee, Jock my man, s

Thou might a' let me be \

Yon man has lifted the pavement stone, I

An' let in the loun to me. >

Seven years I served thee, fiiir ladie,

\

You gave me meat and fee \

But now I am Adam o' Gordon's man, s

An' maun either do it or die. j

Come down, come down, my lady Loudoun, I

Come down thou unto me ; \

I'll wrap thee on a feather bed,

j

Thy warrand I shall be. 1

 LOUDOUN CASTLE.

I'll no come down, I'll no come down,

For neither laii'd nor loun,
Nor yet for any bloody butcher

That lives in Altringham town.

I would give the black, she says,

And so would I the brown,

If that Thomas, my only son,

Could charge to me a gun.

Out then spake the lady Margaret,

As she stood on the stair,

The fire was at her goud garters,

The lowe was at her hair.

I would give the black, she says,

And so would I the brown.

For a drink of yon water,
That rins by Galston Town.

Out then spake fair Anne,

She was baith jimp and sma',

O row me in a pair o' sheets,

And tow me down the wa'.

O hold thy tongue, thou fair Anne,

And let thy talkin' be,

For thou must stay in this fair castle,

And bear thy death with me.

f O mother, spoke the Lord Thomas,

^
As he sat on the nurses knee ;

mother, give up this fair castle.

Or the reek will worrie me.

1 would rather be burnt to ashes sma',

And be cast on yon sea foam,

75
 Before I'd give up this fair castle,

And my lord so far from home.

My good lord has an army strong,

He's now gone o'er the sea ;

He bade me keep this gay castle

As long as it would keep me.

I've four-and-twenty brave milk kye

Gangs on yon lily lee,

I'd give them a' for a blast of wind.

To blaw the reek from me.

O pitie on yon fair castle.

That's built with stone and lime,

But far mair pitie on lady Loudoun,

And all her children nine.

The writer of the Statistical Account of the parish of Loudoun, in quot- >

in<r the foregoing ballad, states that the old castle of that name is supposed
|

to have been destroyed by fire, about 350 years ago. " The current tra-
\

dition," he adds, " ascribes that event to the Clan Kennedy ; and the re- ?

mains of an old tower, at Auchruglen, on the Galston side of the valley, is

|

still pointed out as having been their residence." The balled assigns the
|

foray to a different party, and a more recent period. The same ballad has I

been published as recording the destruction of Cowie Castle, in the north ;:

of Scotland ; but it is well known that the wandering minstrels of a for- s

mer age were in the habit of changing the names of persons and places l

to suit particular circumstances. It is, therefore, difficult to say which of |

the sets is the original. As the ballad, however, as given in the Statistical i

Account, has been familiar to the peasantry of the district of Loudoun i

from time immemorial, and considering the local event to which it alludes, |

it has assuredly every claim to a place among the Ballads and Songs
OF Ayrsihue.
 ; ; ; ,;
:

mm
SAXG ON THE LADY MARGARET MONTGOMERIE.

5attg on tf)t Eatrg IHargaret |Hontgomm>.

LuiFARis leive of to loif so hie

Your ladies ; and thame styel no mair

But peir, the eirthlie A per se,

And flour of feminine maist fair

Sen thair is ane without compair,

Sic tytillis in your fangs deleit

And prais the pereles (pearl) preclaii',

Montgomrie maikles Margareit.

Quhose port, and pereles pulchritude,

Fair forme, and face angelicall.
Sua meik, and full of mansuetude.

With vertew supernaturall

Makdome, and proper members all,

Sa perfyte, and with joy repleit,

Pruifs her, but peir or peregall,

Of maids the maikles Margareit.

Sa wyse in youth, and verteous.

Sic ressoun for to rewl the rest.

As in greit age wer marvelous.

Sua manerlie, myld, and modest
Sa grave, sa gracious, and digest
And in all doings sa discreit

The maist bening, and boniest,

''
MiiTour of madins Margareit.

Pigmaleon, that ane portratour.

Be painting craft, did sa decoir, '

Himself thairwith in paramour

Fell suddenlie ; and smert thairfoir.

Wer he alyve, he wad deploir

His folie ; and his love forleit.
 ! ; ! ;

^1^^-
SANG ON THE LADY MARGARET MONTGOMERIE.

This fairer patrane to adoir,

Of maids the maikles Margareit.

Or had this nymphe bene in these dayis

Quhen Paris judgit in Helicon,

Venus had not obtenit sic prayis.

Scho, and the goddessis ilk one,

Wald have prefert this paragon,

As marrowit. but matche, most meit

The goldin ball to bruik alone

Marveling in this ]\Iargareit.

Quhose nobill birth, and royal bluid,

Hir better nature dois exceid.

Hir native giftes, and graces gud.

Sua bonteouslie declair indeid

As waill, and wit of womanheid,

That sa with vertew dois ourfleit.

Happie is he that sail posseid

In marriage this Margareit

Help, and graunt hap, gud Hemene !

Lat not thy pairt in hir inlaik.

Nor lat not dolful destanie,

Mishap, or fortoun, work hir wraik.

Grant lyik unto hii'self ane maik
That will hir honour, luif, and treit

And I sail serve him for hir saik.

Fairweill, my Maistres Margareit.

A. M.

j
This " Sang" — as the initials bear — is another of the compositions of 1

Alexander Montgomerie, author of The Cherrie and the Slae. The

" Lady Margaret Montgomerie," whose beauty he celebrates, was the

daughter of Hugh, third Earl of Eglintoun. She was acknowledged to

be the " fairest of the fair " of her time. Montgomerie wrote various

78
Sj^^-'
 — —

other verses besides the " Sang" in praise of his matchless relative. One
of his sonnets is entitled

" To The for Me

Suete Nichtingalo in holme green that hants.
!

To sport thyself, and speciall in the spring," &c.

And, in a poem on the same lady, he thus apostrophises Nature

" Ye hevins abone, with heavenlie ornaments.

Extend your courtins of the cristall air!
To asuir colour tui'n your elements,
And soft this season, quhilk lies bene schairp and sair.
Command the cluds that they dissolve na mair ;

Nor us molest with mistie vapours Aveit.

For now scho cums, the fairest of all fair.
The mundane mirrour maikles Margareit."

Lady Margaret Montgomerie married, in 1582, Robert, first Earl of Win-

ton.

I ha'e seen great anes, and sat in great ha's,

'Mong lords and 'mong ladies a' cover'd \vi' braws ;

At feasts made for princes, \vi' princes I've been,

Whare the grand shine o' splendour has dazzled my een ;

But a sight sae delightfu' I trow, I ne'er spied.

As the bonnie bl^'the blink o' my ain fireside.

My ain fireside, my ain fireside,

cheery's the blink o' mine ain fireside.

My ain fireside, my ain fireside,

O sweet is the blink o' my ain fireside.

A nee mair, gude be prais'd, round my ain heartsome ingle,

Wi' the friends o' my youth I cordially mingle ;

Nae forms to compel me to seem wae or glad,

1 may laugh when I'm merry, and sigh when I'm sad.
 ; ;

m^B
MY AIN FIRESIDE.

I
Nae falsehood to dread, and nae malice to fear,

\ But truth to delight me, and friendship to cheer ;

5
Of a' roads to happiness ever were tried,

There's nane half so sure as ane's ain fireside.

i
My ain fireside, my ain fireside,

I
there's nought to compare wi' ane's ain fireside.

I When I draw in my stool on my cosey hearthstane,

\ My heart loups sae light I scarce ken't for my ain

\
Care's down on the wind, it is clean out o' sight,

\
Past troubles they seem but as dreams of the night.

I
I hear but kend voices, kend faces I see,

I And mark saft affection glent fond frae ilk e'e

I Nae fleetchings o' flattery, nae boastings of pride,

'Tis heart speaks to heart at ane's ain fireside.
I

\ My ain fireside, my ain fireside,

I
O there's nought to compare wi' ane's ain fireside.

;
"My Ain Fireside" —which has long been a favourite, and is to be found

c in almost every collection of songs —was written by William Hamilton of

; Gilbertfield. Ilis name is less familiar to the reader of Scottish poetry

\ than we think it ought to be. True, the effusions of his muse that have

I
been preserved, are not so numerous as to entitle him to prominency

;
amongst the versifiers of his country ; but, from the few pieces known to

;
have emanated from his pen, it cannot be denied that he possessed a con-

;
siderable vein of poesy. Scanty, however, as are his writings, the parti-

l
culars of his long, and for sometime active life, are still more limited. His
: ancestors, a branch of the ducal family of Hamilton, owned the lands of

I Ardoch, near Kilwinning, from an early period. Andro Hamilton, third

; son of Robert, fifth laird of Torrance, obtained a charter of them from the

I
Abbot of Kilwinning. He was also, by royal charter — 15th July, 1543
I
— appointed " Principal Porter and Master of Entrie to our Soveraine

I
Lady, and her Governor of all her Palaces, Castles," and other strongholds,
! during life. Captain William Hamilton, father of the Poet, acquired the \

property of Ladyland, near Kilwinning, about the middle of the seven-

\
teenth century. Shortly afterwards, he " biggit a new house, of twa
 —

stories, with sklates," in lieu of the old castle of Ladyland, which he de-

molished ; and which had been the residence of Hew Barclay, who, enter-
ing into a conspiracy to overturn the Protestant religion in Britain, and

having taken possession of Ailsa Craig, about 1593 or 1597, as a prelim-

inary step towards effecting his object, rushed from the rock into the sea

and was drowned, rather than allow himself to be captured. A portion

of the " new house" now the old mansion — still remains, bearing the

name of the proprietor, with the date, 1669. Captain Hamilton was one

of those who refused the Test Act in 1684, and was in consequence dis-

armed. He fell in action against the French, during the wars of King
William. He married, in 1662, Janet, daughter of John Brisbane of that
Hk, by whom he left two sons, John, his heir, and William, the subject of
our brief memoir. The precise date of either of their births is not known.

It is presumable, however, that the latter was born sometime between

1665 and 1670. He entei-ed the army early in life, and served many years
abroad. He rose, however, no higher than the rank of Lieutenant, which
commission he held " honourably in my Lord Hyndford's regiment." On
retiring on half-pay, he resided at Gilbertfield, in the parish of Cambus-
lang. Whether the property was his own does not appear. His being
styled " of Gilbertfield" would imply that it did belong to him, though it

may have been adopted merely in contradistinction to Hamilton of Ban-

gour, who was a contemporary. " His time," says a writer in the " Lives

of Eminent Scotsmen,"* " was now divided between the sports of the field,

\ the cultivation of several valued friendships with men of genius and taste,

and the occasional productions of some effusions of his own, in which the
gentleman and the poet were alike conspicuous. His intimacy with the
author of the Gentle Shepherd, three of his epistles to whom are to be

found in the common editions of Ramsay's works, commenced in an ad-

miration, on Ramsay's part, of some pieces which had found their way into

cu'culation from Hamilton's pen." This was not the case. At all events

the correspondence began with Hamilton. These familiar epistles, as they

are termed, are highly creditable to the poetical talent of both parties ; yet,

without depreciating the merit of Ramsay, we think the superiority may

* 18mo., London, 1822.

81
 : ;

THE PRAIS OF AIGE

be justly awarded to the Ayrshire poet. His verses are characterised by

an easy flow of composition not possessed by those of Auld Reekie's much-

famed bard. The correspondence took place in 1719. It would ap-
pear that to the few and now almost forgotten productions of Hamil-

ton, who was the senior of Ramsay by at least sixteen or twenty years,

we owe the poetical emulation of the author of the Gentle Shepherd.

From Gilbertfield, the Poet, towards the close of his days, removed to
Latterick, in Lanarkshire, where he died " at a very advanced age," on

the 24th May, 1751. He married a lady of his own name — probably a

relation —by whom, it appears from the parish records of Kilbii-nie, he

had a daughter baptised Anna on the 16th of June, 1693, so that he must

I
have entered the matrimonial state at an early period of life. Whether
\ he left any issue is unknown. The Hamiltons of Ladyland, however,

s are not without descendants. The brother of the Poet, having sold the

property to the ninth Earl of Eglintoun, about 1712, proceeded to the

I

north of Ireland, where he purchased an estate, which was subsequently

I
disposed of by his son and heir, William, who, returning to Scotland in

I 1744, bought the lands of Craighlaw, in Galloway. The lineal representa-

\ tive of the family, William Hamilton of Craighlaw, is, or was lately, an

\ officer in the 10th Hussars. He was one of the protestors against the

I
Veto Act of the General Assembly in 1839.

€f)e ^xm of ^tfle.

At matyne houre, in midis of the nicht,

Walkeit of sleip, I saw besyd me sone,

Ane aigit man, seimit sextie yeiris be sicht,

This sentence sett, and song it in gud tone

thryn-fold, and eterne God in trone !

To be content and lufe the I haif caus,

That my licht yowtheid is our past and done

Honor with aige to every vertew drawis.

 ; ;; ; ; ;: ; ;:

THE PKAIS OP AIGE.

Grene yowth, to aige thow mon obey and bow,

Thy fulis lust lestis skant ane May
That than wes witt, is naturall foly now,
Warldy witt, honor, riches, or fresche array

Defty the devill, dreid deid and domisday,

For all sail be accusit, as thow knawis

Blessit be God, my yowtheid is away ;

Honor with aige to every vertew drawis,

O bittir yowth that semit delicious

!
;

O swetest aige that sumtyme semit soure

!

O rekles yowth hie, halt, and vicious!

\ O haly aige fulfillit with honoure

!

t O flowand yowth fruitles and fedand flour,!

I
Contrair to conscience, leyth to luf gud lawis,

i Of all vane gloir the lanthorne and mirroure ;

I
Honor with aige till every vertew drawis.

This warld is sett for to dissaive us evin ;

Pryde is the nett, and covetece is the trane

For na reward, except the joy of hevin,

Wald I be yung into this warld agane.

The schip of fayth, tempestous winds and rane

Of Lollerdry, dryvand in the sey hir blawis ;

My youth is gane, and I am glaid and fane.

Honor with aige to every vertew drawis.

Law, luve, and lawtie, gravin law thay ly

Dissimulance lies borrowit conscience clayis

Writ, wax, and sells ar no wayis set by

Flattery is fosterit baith with friends and fayis.

The sone, to bruik it that his fader hais,

Wald se him deid ; Sathanas sic seid sawis

Yowtheid, adew, ane of my mortall fais,

Honor with aige to every vertew drawis.

The " Prais of Aige " is by Walter Kennedy, who, though few of his
 — ; ;

writings are extant, seems to have occupied a prominent place among the
j

earlier poets of Scotland. He is spoken of both by Douglas and Lindsay

as an eminent contemporary. The former, in his " Court of the Muses," |

styles him " The Greit Kennedie." He is now chiefly known, however,
by his Fly ting with Dunbar; which was published so early as 1508, and
became very popular. This was a species of poetical amusement frequently

indulged in both before and after his time. At a much later period, the

practice continued amongst the Highland Bards, and gave rise occasionally

to no small local irritation. It must have been, at best, a dangerous pas-

time. The great obj ect was to excel in ribaldry ; and he who could say
the most biting and derogatory things of his opponent, carried away the

palm of victory. The " Flyting between Dunbar and Kennedie" aifoi-ds

a favourable specimen of the railing powers of both : indeed, it would be

difficult to determine on which side the mastery lies. The language,
however, is in many instances, too gross for modern ears. A single verse

from each may serve as a specimen. The orthography is somewhat

modernised :

(DuNBAB TO Kennedy.)

Thou speirs, dastard, if I dare with thee feclit ?

Ye dagone, dowbart, thereof have thou no doubt ?
Wherever we meet thereto my hand I liecht
To red tliy ribbald rhymings with a route ;

Through all Britain it shall be blaAvn out.

How that thou, poisoned pelour,* gat thy paiks
"With ane dog-leech I shape to gar thee shout,
And neither to thee take knife, sword, nor ax !

(Kennedy to Dunbar.)

Insensate sow, cease false Eustace air 1

And knaw, keen scald, I hald of Alathia,
And cause mo not the cause lang to declare
Of thy and his Allia
cm-st kin, Deulbeir ;

Come on knees, and mak a cria

to the cross
Confess thy crime, hald Kennedy thy king.
And Avith a hawthorn scourge thyself and ding ;

Thus dree thy penance with ' Deliquisti quia.''

* Thief.
 —

It is rather surprising that either Lord Ilailes or Dr Irving, in comment-

ing on the " Flying," should have had the slightest doubt as to the real ;

character of the " war of words" between the Poets. Such invective in I

an age, and amongst a people by no means deficient of honour, could not

have been exercised, unless as good-natured bantei", without leading to

serious consequences —neither Dunbar nor Kennedy being persons of mean

estate. So far from umbrage existing between them, Dunbar, in his

" Lament for the Makars," thus feelingly alludes to the dangerous state of
Kennedy's health :

" And Mr Walter Kennedie

J In pynt of dede lies wearily,

I
Grit reuth it were that so should be,
\ Timor mortis conturbat me."

^
The egotism of Kennedy, when he lauds himself as " of Rhetory the Rose,"
'<
and as having been

I
** Inspirit with Mercury fra his golden spheir,"

' would be perfectly intolerable, were not the Fly ting understood as a bur-
lesque. From the allusions to Carrick by Dunbar in the Flyting, there

can be no doubt that Kennedy belonged to that part of Ayrshire. Be-

yond this fact, however, and that he was the third son of Gilbert, first

Baron Kennedy, very little is known of his history. Mr David Laing, to

\ whom the literary world is greatly indebted for his valuable edition of

\ Dunbar's poems,* and who has gleaned all that is likely to be ever ascer-

\ tained regarding Kennedy, conceives that he must have been born " be-
\ fore the year 1460." He was educated for the Church, and studied at
\ the University of Glasgow, where he took the degree of Master of Arts in

\ 1478, and was " elected one of the four masters to exercise the office of
'',
examinator in 1481." Mr Laing is of opinion that the Flyting was wi-it-

\ ten between the years 1492 and 1497. If so, it is evident, both from the \

\ allusions of Dunbar and Kennedy himself, that the latter resided at the

time in Cai'rick, where he seems, fi-om an action brought before the Lords
of Council, to have filled the situation of Depute-Bailie of Carrick, under

* The Poems of AVilliam Dunbar, now first collected. With notes, and a memoir
\
of his life. By David Laing. Edinburgh, 1813.
 — — ' —

THE PRAIS OF AIGE.

his nephew, David, afterwards Earl of Cassillis, to whom the office of

I
heritable Bailie of that district was ratified by charter in 1489. It is to

I
this the poet no doubt alludes when he says, in answer to Dunbar

I
" I am the Kingis blude, his trew speciall clerk."

? His claim to royal blood was equally well founded — his grandfather, Sir

\
James Kennedy of Dunure, having married Lady Mary Stewart, daugh-
l
ter of Robert III. Prior to becoming Depute-Bailie of Carrick, Ken-

; nedy was not unknown at Court, and had travelled on the Continent. He
\ appears to have been an expectant of Church preferment. Speaking of

I
James the Fourth, he says

" Trusting to have of his magnificence.

'
Guerdon, reward, and benefice dedene.

\ Mr Laing thinks it probable that he was appointed Provost of Maybole,

on the death of Sir David Robertson, about 1794 —the patronage of the
collegiate church in that town, which was founded by Sir James Kennedy
of Dunure, in 1371, still continuing in the family. The period of Ken-
\ nedy's demise is quite uncertain. He was ahve, though at the "pynt of

I
dede," when Dunbar penned his "Lament for the Makars," about 1508 ;

and he is spoken of by Lyndsay in 1530, as if he had been dead for a con-

I

\ siderable time

" Or quha can noiu the warkis countrefait,

Off Kennedie, with terms aureait."

The inference is that he did not survive the illness alluded to by Dunbar.
\ It is rather curious that so few of the poems of Kennedy are extant. Be-
\ sides the Flyting, there are only some four or five pieces known to exist.

\ These are " The Prais of Aige," " Ane Aigit Man's Invective," " Ane
\ Ballat of Our Lady," " Pious Counsale," and « The Passioun of Christ,"

I
the latter of which, preserved in the Howard MSS., extends to 245 stan-

I
zas, of 1715 lines. Mr Laing describes it as either presenting a '•'
dry sum-

I
mary of the chief events of our Saviour's life and sufferings, or tedious

episodical reflections, appropriate to the different hours of the Romish

Church service." The most favourable specimen of his poetical talent

which survives is unquestionably the song in " Prais of Aige." From the

fame of Kennedy amongst his contemporaries, it is evident that the greater

 : ;

portion of his writings have been lost. His attachment to the old faith,
which he describes in the foregoing verses as a ship driving in the tern- |

pestous sea of LoUerdry, the principles of the Reformation having then be- |

gun to be keenly agitated in Scotland, may in some measure account for \

their disappearance. It is not improbable that his MSS. perished along \

with many other valuable works belonging to the collegiate church of

\

Maybole. Unlike most of the Makars of the time, Kennedy was a staunch
adherent of Catholicity. The popularity of most of his contemporaries,
on the other hand, was greatly promoted by their satirical exposure of the
abuses of Popery.

There lived a carle on Kellyburnbraes

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

And he had a wife was the plague of his days ;

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

Ae day, as the carle gaed up the lang glen,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

He met vn' the deevil, says, " How do ye fen' ?"

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

" I've got a bad wife, sir ; that's a' my complaint

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint."

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

" It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave ;

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

But gie me your wife, man, for her I maun have."

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)
 ; ;

KELLTBURNBR AJ:S.

" O welcome most kindly," the blythe carle said

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

" But if ye can match her, ye're waur than ye're ca'd !"

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is ia prime.)

The deevil has got the auld wife on his back,

(Iley, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

And hke a poor pedlar he's carried his pack.

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

He carried her hame to his ain haUan door ;

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

Syne bade her go in, for a bitch and a .

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick of his band,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme;)

Turn out on her guard, in the clap of a hand.

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

The carline gaed through them like ony wud bear :

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

Whae'er she got hands on cam near her nae mair.

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa'

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

" Oh help, master, helpl or she'll ruin us a'."

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

The deevil he swore by the edge of his knife,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

He pitied the man that was tied to a wife.

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

The deevil he swore by the kirk and the boll,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

88
 ; ;

AS I CAM DOWN BT YON CASTLE WA .

lie was not in wedlock, thank heaven ! but in helL

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

Then Satan has travelled again wi' his pack,

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme ;)

And to her auld husband has carried her back.

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.)

" I hae been a deevil the feck o' my life

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme )

But ne'er was in hell till I met wi' a wife

(And the thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime.")

Burns is said to have been the author of Kellyhurnbraes. The owercome

is old.

^s E cam* "OobDU fig gon d^asiU toa*.

As I cam' down by yon castle wa'

And in by yon garden green,
O there I spied a bonnie, bonnie lass,

But the- flower-borders were us between.

A bonnie, bonnie lass she was,

As ever mine eyes did see ;

five hundred pounds would I give,

For to have such a pretty bride as thee.

To have such a pretty bride as me !

Young man, ye are sairly mista'en ;

Tho' ye were king o' fair Scotland,

I wad disdain to be your queen.

Talk not so very high, bonnie lass,

O talk not so vei-y, very high ;

The man at the fair that wad sell.

He maun learn at the man that wad buy.

89
 : ; ;

TAM THE BALLOCH.

I trust to climb a far higher tree,

And herry a far richer nest

Tak' this advice o' me, bonnie lass,

Humility wad set thee best.

These lines were contributed by Burns to Johnson's Museum. He took

them from recitation. They are evidently old,

Cam 0' ti)e ISallocfj*

In the Nick o' the Balloch lived Muirland Tam,

Weel stentit wi' brochan and braxie-ham ;

A briest hke a buird, and a back like a door,

And a wapping wame that hung dovra afore.

But what's come ower ye, Muirland Tam ?

For your leg's now gi'own like a wheel-barrow tram ;

Your ee it's faun in — yom* nose it's faun out.

And the skin o' your cheek's like a dirty clout.

ance, like a yaud, ye spankit the bent,

Wi' a fecket sae fou, and a stocking sae stent, i

The strength o' a stot —the wecht o' a cow ?

Now, Tammy, my man, ye're grown like a grew. I

1 mind sin' the bUnk o' a canty quean {

Could watered your mou and lichtit your een ; j

Now ye leuk like a yowe, when ye should be a ram |

O what can be wrang wi' ye, Muirland Tam ? ^

Has some dowg o' the yirth set your gear abreed ?

Hae they broken your heart or broken your head ?

Hae they rackit wi' rungs or kittled wi' steel ?

Or Tammy, ray man, hae ye seen the deil ?

90
 : ; ;

TAM O THE BALLOCH.

Wha ance was your match at a stoup and a tale ?

Wi' a voice like a sea, and a drouth like a whale ?

Now ye peep like a powt ; ye glumph and ye gaunt

Oh, Tammy, my man, are ye turned a saunt ?

Come, lowse your heart, ye man o' the muir ;

We tell om* distress ere we look for a cure

There's laws for a wrang, and sa's for a sair

Sae, Tammy, my man, what wad ye hae mair ?

Oh ! neebour, it neither was thresher nor thief,

That deepened my ee, and lichtened my beef;

But the word that makes me sae waefu' and wan,

Is —Tam o' the Balloch's a married man !

The foregoing song is by Hugh Ainslie, whose fame is by no means com-

mensm-ate with his deserts. He was born at Bargany Mains, near Dailly,
about the year 1792. His father, George Ainshe, was for a long time in
the service of Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton, at Bargany. In that neigh-

bourhood —" by Grir van's fairy-haunted stream" —the Poet passed the first

nineteen years of his Ufe, receiving such education as the place afforded.

In 1809, George Ainslie removed with his family to his native place, Ros-
lin, near Edinburgh. After prosecuting his education in Edinburgh for

some months, Hugh was employed as a copying clerk in the Register

House in that city, under the auspices of Mr Thomson, the Deputy Clerk-
Register, whose father had been minister of Dailly, and who on that ac-

count took an interest in the success of the youth. For such an occupa-
tion Ainslie was well fitted, his handwriting being remarkable for beauty,
accuracy, and expedition. On the recommendation of Mr Thomson, he
was occasionally employed as amanuensis to the celebrated Dugald Stew-
art, who, having resigned his chair as Professor, lived in elegant retire-

ment at Kinniel House, a seat of the Duke of Hamilton, about twenty

miles distant from Edinburgh. There, in the society of the philosopher

and the distinguished persons who visited him, Ainslie passed some months
both pleasantly and profitably. If aught annoyed him, it was the repeated
transcriptions of manuscript compositions, which the fastidious taste of Mr
 TAM O THE BALLOCH.

Stewart required, but for which the less refined amanuensis was not dis-

I
posed to make allowance. Returning to the Register House, he acted l

for several years as a copying clerk, first under Mv Thomson, and after-

wards in that department where deeds are recorded. About this time he

married his cousin, Janet Ainslie, an amiable and sensible woman, by <

whom he has a large family. Constant employment in copying dry legal |

writings was by no means agreeable to his temperament ; so he at length i

I

\ quitted it, and for a time occupied himself in keeping the books of his |

•
father-in-law, who was a brewer in Edinburgh. The concern, after ;

I
being carried on for about two years, proved unsuccessful. He now re-

] solved on emigrating to the United States of America, to which he pro-

I
ceeded in July, 1822. There, after having made the necessary arrange- |

i ments, he was joined by his wife and children. He acquired a property,

I
to which he gave the name of " Pilgrim's Repose ;" but it did not prove to ^

I
be the resting-place he had anticipated. On the banks of the Ohio, in the ^

I
neighbourhood of Cincinnati, he afterwards established a brewery. His |

premises having been accidentally consumed by fire, he energetically set ;

I

\ about the rebuilding of them ; but, notwithstanding all his efforts, mis- |

i fortune again overtook him, and now he resides at Louisville. In the \

\ summer of 1820, he made a tour from Edinburgh to Ayrshire, in com- i

i pany with two friends ; and two years afterwards, when on the eve of i

emigrating, he published an account of it in a book, consisting of one vo- |

;; lume 12mo., entitled "A Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns, . . with ^

I
numerous pieces of Poetry, original and selected."* It contains three

\ wood-cut illustrations, from drawings taken by Ainslie, who possesses

I
some talent as a draughtsman. The bibliographer will be surprised on

? finding that the book proceeded from the Deptford press. This is ac-

j counted for by the fact of the author having a friend a printer in that

\
place. Owing to his not having enjoyed an opportunity to correct the

j
proof-sheets, the book is disfigured by lapses in grammar, and by incorrect

* Tlivousliout the book, the travellers figure under fictitious names. The author, i

from the length of his person and the activity of his lirnbs, is called The Lang >

lii.NKER ;and his companions, Mr John Gibson and Mr James Welstood, are respcc- J

tivcly styled Jingmno Jock and EniK OcniLTRF.r.. Welstood, who went to America {

about the same time as Ainslie, dicrl lately at New York. Gibson did not cross "the \

Atlantic's roar," as he appears, from what is said at pacics 200 and 271, to have con- •,

templatcd : he now worthily fills the office of Janitor in the Dollar Institution. I
 — — ;

KIRKDAiroiE FAIR.

spelling and punctuation. From the want of an influential publisher, it

was little noticed beyond the circle of his friends. It did not, however, \

escape the observation of Mr Robert Chambers, Avho transferred three of

the poetical pieces to his collection of Scottish Songs, published in 1829.

One of these, " The Rover of Lochryan," was copied with commendation \

in a review of Mr Chambers's work, which appeared in the same year in I

the Edinburgh Literary Journal;* and a wish at the sametime expressed ^

by the Reviewer to know something more of the author. Besides a few I

anecdotes of little value, concerning Burns and the characters he cele- |

brated, the work chiefly consists of incidents which befell the travellers, of J

descriptions of natural scenery, and of traditions ; and although the original

|

pieces of poetry are frequently represented as proceeding from his friends, the \

whole of them, as well as the prose portion, were truly composed by Ainslie I

himself. At the end of the volume there is a production of some length, >

entitled the avithor's " Last Lay." It was composed, he tells us, when {

wandering in Ayrshire by his native stream ; and, besides some allusions I

to his personal history, shows what were the views and feelings which in- ]

duced him to seek a "resting-place in the young world of the west." I

What follows we take leave to transcribe from an article in the Edinburgh i

Literary Journal :

" Since Mr Ainslie went to reside in America, nothing* of his has ap-
peared in print on this side of the Atlantic, with the exception of a paper
or two in the Neivcasth Magazine, which he entitled '
Feelings of a Fo-
) reigncr in America.' He contributes, however, to American publications ;

s and ho from time to time, transmitted to his friends at home poetical

has, \

^
effusions of great merit." From " The Contemporaries of Burns."

KtrfetiamtJte jFair.

O Roljin lad, where hae ye been.

Ye look sae trig and braw, man

Wi' ruffled sark, and neat and clean.

And Sunday coat and a', man.

* Xo. xxxi. p. 18.

93

m^ '^rvrJ^
 ;

KIRKDAMDIE FAIR.

Quo' Rab, I had a clay to spare,

And I went to Kiikdamdie Fair,

Like mony anither gouk to stare,

At a' that could be seen, man.

When climbing o'er the Hadyer Hill,

It wasna han'y wark, man ;

And when we cam' to auld Penkill,

We stripped to the sark, man.

The tents, in a' three score and three,

Were planted up and down, man,

While pipes and fiddles thro' the fair,

Gaed bummin' roun' and roun', man.

Here Jamie Brown and Mary Bell,

Were seated on a plank man,

Wi' Robin Small and Kate Dalziel,
And heartily they drank, man.

And syne upon the board was set,

Gude haggis, though it was na het,

And braxy ham ; the landlord cam',

Wi' rowth o' bread and cheese, man.

A country chap had got a drap.

And he guid thro' the fair, man

He swore to face wi' twa three chiels.
He wadna muckle care, man.

At length he lent a chiel a clout.

Till his companions turned out,

So on they fell, wi' sic pell-mell.

Till some lay on the ground, man.

Or ere the hurry it was o'er,

We scrambled up the brae, man.

94
 ; ;

KIRKDAJIDIE FAIR.

To try a lass, but she was shy,

A dram she wadna hae, man.

Weel, fare-ye-weel, I carena by.

There's decent lasses here that's dry,

As pretty's you, and no sae shy.

So ony way you like, man.

There's lads and lasses, mony a sort,

Wha cam' for to enjoy the sport

Perhaps they may be sorry for't.

That ever they cam' there, man.

And mony a lad and lass cam' there,

Sly looks and winks to barter ;

And some to fee for hay and hairst,

And others for the quarter.

Some did the thieving trade pursue.

While ithers cam' to sell then- woo' ;

And ithers cam' to weet their mou.

And gang wi' lasses hame, man.

Now, I hae tauld what I hae seen,

I maun be stepping hame, man

For to be out at twal at e'en,

Would be an unco shame, man.

Besides, my mither said to Kate,

This morning when we took the gate.
Be sure ye dinna stay o'er late.

Come timely hame at een, man.

The much-celebrated fair of Kirkdamdie, which takes place annually on

'

the last Saturday of May, is held on the green knoll beside the ruins of \

Kirkdamdie Chapel, in the parish of Barr —the site, in all probability, of ;

the ancient burying ground, as it still retains the appearance of having \

been enclosed. The institution of this annual meeting, so far as we are i

95
 —

KIRKDAMDIE FAIR.

{ aware, is unknown ; it has, however, been heM from time immemorial.

\ The only market throughout the year, in an extensive district, it was at-

l
tended by people from great distances. Booths and stands were erected

; for the entertainment of the gathered throng, and the disposal of mer-

\ chandise, which, as there were no roads, was brought chiefly on horse-

\ back.* Here those travelling merchants, whose avocation is now almost

\ gone — but who, before communication with the towns came to be so

I
freely opened up, formed nearly the sole medium of sale or barter among '\

\
the inhabitants —assembled in great numbers, bringing with them the \

5 tempting wares of England and the Continent. If, with the magician's j

I
power, we could recal a vision of Kirkdamdie centuries back, how inter- s

; esting would be the spectacle ! The bivouack of the pedlars with their \

I
pack-horses, who usually arrived the night before the fair ; the bustle of <

\ active preparation by earliest dawn ; and the gradual gathering of the i

\
plaided and bonneted population, from the various pathways across the ?

hills, or down the straths, as the day advanced, would be a picture of deep \
I

< interest. Even yet, changed as are the times, the gathering is a truly \

i picturesque sight, which intuitively points to the " days of other years." \

Until recently, when the establishment of a fair at Girvan, together with ^

the great facilities everywhere afforded for the interchange of commodities, I

conspired to deprive Kirkdamdie of its importance, it continued to be nu- ^

merously attended. Many remember having seen from thirty to forty tents \

on the ground, all well filled with merry companies

" Here Jamie Brown and Mary Bell,

Were seated on a plank, man,
Wi' Robin Small and Kate Dalzicl,
And heartily they drank, man.

And syne upon the board was set,

Gude liaggis, though it was na het,
And braxy ham ; the landlord cam',
Wi' rowth o' bread and cheese, man."

* The custom from traders at landward fairs was, in ancient times, levied by tlic
of tlic county, wlioso minions were very rapacious.
slicriff Tliis species of robbery
became so clamant that several acts of parliament were passed against the abuse.
The dues at Kirkdamdie, about two centuries ago, appear to have been lifted by
Alexander or Rl' Alexander of Corseclays, to whom " the three pund land of Kirk-
dominie and Ballibeg" belonged, together with the " teyndis and fisching upon the
watter of Stincher, commonlic called the flscliing of the wcills."
 — —

A large amount used to be transacted in wool and lambs ; and not a few
staplers were in the habit of coming even from the manufacturing towns
of England. But we must follow the graphic description of the ballad

'' The tents, in a' tliree score and three.

Were planted up and down, man ;

"While pipes and fiddles through the fair,

Gaed bummin' roun' and roun' man.

And mony a lad and lass cam' there

Sly looks and winks to barter.
And some to fee for hay or hairst.
And others for the quarter.
Some did the thieving trade pursue.
While others cam to sell their woo.;
And mony cam' to weet their mou,
And gang wi' lasses hame, man."

Besides the fame acquired by Kirkdamdie as a market, it was still more

celebi'ated as the Donnybrook of Scotland

" A canty chap a drap had got.

And he gaed through the fair, man ;

He swore to face wi' twa three chiels

He wadna muckle care, man.
At length he lent a chiel a clout.
While his companions sallied out,
So on they fell, wi' sic pell-mell.
Till some lay on the ground, man."

The feuds of the year, whether new or old, were here reckoned over, and
generally settled by an appeal to physical force ; and it was no uncommon
I

I thing, towards the close of the fair, when " bauld John Barleycorn " had
suflficiently inspired his votaries, to see fifty or a hundred a-side engaged
I

i with fists or sticks, as chance might favour. Smuggling, after the Union,
became very prevalent throughout Scotland, and nowhere more so than
I

in Ayrshire and Galloway. A great many small lairdships were then in

existence, the proprietors of which, almost to a man, were associated for
the purpose of carrying on a contraband trade. From locality as well as

union, they lived beyond the reach or fear of the law. At Kirkdamdie,
future operations were planned, and old scores adjusted, though not always
 — ; —

KIRKDAMDIE FAIR.

in an amicable manner. The Laird of Schang, a property in the vicinity,

was noted as a member of this confederacy, and a sturdy brawler at the

fair. He possessed great strength and courage, so much so that he was

popularly awarded the credit of being not only superior to all his mortal

enemies, but to have actually overcome the great enemy of mankind him-
self. Like most people of his kidney, Schang could make money, but
never acquired the knack of saving it. He was sometimes, in consequence,
sadly embarrassed. At a particular crisis of his monetary affairs, the Devil,

who, according to the superstition of the time, seems to have been a con-

siderable Jew in his way, appeared to Schang, and agreed to supply the

needful upon the usual terms.

" Says Cloot, 'here's plenty if yell gang,

On sic a day,
Wi' me to ony place I please ;

Now jag your wrist, the red bluid gie's ;

This is a place where nae ane sees,

Here sign your name,'
Schang says, I'll do't as fast as pease,'
'

And signed the same."

\ From henceforth the fearless Schang, as our upland poet goes on to re-

late,

" had goud in every han'j

And every thing he did deman'
He didna how time was gaun
min'
Time didna sit:
Auld Cloot met Schang ae morn ere dawn,
Says, 'ye maun flit.'
"

The dauntless smuggler, however, peremptorily refused to obey the sum-

mons. Drawing a circle round him with his sword, without invoking

either saint or scripture, he fearlessly entered into single combat with his

Pandemonium majesty, and fairly beat him off the field. The engage-
ment is thus circumstantially described by the veracious laureate of the

hills, whose verses, it will be observed, are not very remarkable for beauty
or rythm :

" The Devil wl' his cloven foot

Thought Schang out o'er the ring to kick,
 — —
; ;; ;

KIRKDAMDIE FAIR.

But his sharp sword it made the slit

A Avee bit langer

Auld Clootie bit his nether lip
Wi' spite an' anger.

The Deil about his tail did fling.

Upon its tap there was a sting,
But clean out tliro't Schang's sword did wring,
was nae fiddle ;
It

'Twaa lying loopit like a string

Cut through the middle.

Auld Clootie show'd his horrid horns.

And baith their points at Schang he forms
But Schang their strength or points he scorns,
The victory boded
He cut them aff like twa green corns
The Devil snodded.

Then Cloot he spread his twa black wings.

And frae his mouth the blue fire flings
For victory he loudly sings
He's perfect mad:
Schang's sword frae shou'der baith them brings
Down wi' a daud.

Then Clootie ga'e a horrid hooh,

And Schang, nae doubt, was fear'd enough,
But him hard across the mou'
hit
Wi' his sharp steel
He tumbl't back out owre the cleugh
Schang nail'd the Deil " !

As the Schangs gradually died out, and the power of law and religion be

gan to prevail, the feuds at Kirkdamdie assumed a different aspect, and l

might have been altogether modified, but for a new element of strife which \

\
kept alive the spirit of pugilism. Fi'om Girvan and other localities on the l

coast, where immense numbers of Irish have congregated within the last {

fifty years, bands of them used to repair to Kirkdamdie for the sole pur- I

pose of indulging in the pleasures of a row, sometimes amongst themselves, (

but more generally with the native population. This led to fearful en-
\

counters, and many anecdotes are told of the pi'owess of the champions I

on either side. Amongst the Scots, a person of the name of B , \

forester on the estates of the late Lord Alloway, to whom the property
 — ;

THE AULD FLECKIT COW.

then belonged, was remarkable for his daring, being often singly opposed \

to a large body of Emeralders. Gradually ascending the rising ground, \

;
in the rear of the ku-k, with his face to the foe, he wielded his stick with I

I
such dexterity that the brae soon became covered with disabled opponents, j

] whom he struck down one by one as they approached. lie frequently

^

i fought their best men in pitched battles, and as often and successfully \

headed the Scots against the Irish in a melee. Several individuals are still \
I

] alive who took an active and distinguished part in these affrays. C |

5 and the " Fighting T s" were much celebrated. One of the latter,
|

? now we beheve in America —when most people, save the bands of Irish- I

I
men who remained for the purpose of attacking such obnoxious Scotsmen ;

\ as himself, had left the fair —has been known, more than once, to break \

\
in amongst them on horseback, and canter away, after laying twenty or ',

thirty on the sward, without sustaining the slightest injury. Such tan- |

talizing displays of coolness were chiefly undertaken, as he facetiously re-

|

I
marked, to provoke the Patlanders, and keep their temper in play till next \

I meeting. Such scenes are characteristic of the past, not of the present. I

I The "glory" of Kirkdamdie, like that of Donnybrook, has happily de- ^

parted. In place of thirty or forty tents, four or five are now sufficient
j

and almost no business whatever is transacted. It is apparently main-

^

tained more from respect to use and wont, than from any conviction of its i

utility. History of Ayrshire. \

The author of " Kirkdamdie Fair" is not known. \

Ci)e aiulti dFIecfeit OToIm.

Frae the well we get \^'ater, frae the heugh we get feul,

Frae the rigs we get barley, frae the sheep we get woo',

Frae the bee we get hinney, an' eggs frae the chuckle,

An' plenty o' milk frae our auld flecket cow.

An' O, my dear lassie, be guid to auld fleckie,

Wi' the best o' hay-fodder, and rips frae the mow,

100
g
 : ;

THE AULD FtECKIT COW.

Boil'd meat in a backie, warm, mixed up vti' beanmeal,

For it's a' weel bestow'd on the auld fleckit cow.

She's wee an' she's auld, and she's lame and she's hammilt,
And mair than sax years she's been farrow I trow
But she fills aye the luggie baith e'ening an' morning.

And rich creamy milk gie's our auld fleckit cow.

An' O, my dear lassie, be guid to auld fleckie,

An' dinnie gi'e a' the guid meat to the sow.

For the hens will be craikin', the ducks will be quakin',
To wile the tid bites frae the auld farrow cow. l

She ne'er breaks the fences, to spoil corn and 'tatoes, i

Contented, though lanely, the grass she does pu',

^

She ne'er wastes her teeth munching stanes or auld leather, \

But cannio, lying doun, chews her cud when she's fu'. I

Then O, my dear lassie, be guid to auld fleckie, i

An' min' that she just gie's her milk by the mou', <

An' we'll still get braw kebbocks, an' nice yellow butter, \

An' cream to our tea, frae the auld fleckit cow. i

In the byre she's aye cannie, nor e'er needs a burroch, j

But gie's her milk freely whene'er it is due :

'•

Wi' routing and rairing she ne'er deaves the neibours,

|

They ne'er hear the croon o' the auld fleckit cow. \

An' O, feed her weel wi' the sappy red clover, ^ i

Green kail, yellow turnips, and cabbage enou' \

For she's whyles in the house, an' her gang's no that birthy ]

The grass is ow'r sour for our milky auld cow. 5

When clegs, flies, and midges, or hornets, molest her, I

Or cauld stormy weather brings danger in view,

|

In her ain warm wee housie frae harm's way protect her, |

I'm feared something happens our auld fleckit cow.

And my guid tentie lassie will wed some guid farmer, ]

Wi' bonnie green parks baith to graze and to plow, \

101
 : ! ;:

THE AULD FLECKIT COW.

White sheep, an' milk cows, o' the best breeds o' Ayrshire,

For muckle she's made out the auld fleckit cow.

We'll no part wi' fleckie for some years to come yet,

A' our lang lifetime that deed sair we'd rue

For she has na a calf to baud fou' the binnin',

And fill up the place o' the auld fleckit cow.

Sae, O, my guid lassie, remember auld fleckie,

An' feed her, an' milk her as lang's she will do.

We ha'e aye ben weel ser'd, an' she's noo awn us naething,

But we'll ne'er get a match to the auld fleckit cow.

O leese me on milk, it's the food o' the baby,

O' the strong blooming youth, an' the auld bodie too
Our gentles may sip at their tea and their toddy,

But gi'e me the milk o' the auld fleckit cow.

An' 0, my kind lassie, the spring time is coming,
An' the grass it will grow, an' we'll hear the cookoo ;

The laverocks will sing, an' we'll a' tread the gowan,

An' drink the rich milk o' our auld hammilt cow.

O, the dames o' the south boast their flocks o' milk camels.

Their bread-bearing trees, and their huts o' bamboo ;

And the wives o' the north ha'e their seals and their reindeer,

But we ha'e oatmeal and the auld fleckit cow.

An' O, my dear Peggy, we're thankfu' for mullock.

Sad care and distrust ne'er shall darken our brow

And I wish a' the house-keeping folk in the nation

Could sup the pure milk o' their ain fleckit cow

The foregoing verses are the composition of a worthy but unpretending 5

j
follower of the muse —Mr Andrew Aitken, a native of Beith. He is a ?

I
self-taught genius —never having entered a school door as a scholar. He
f
has written a good deal of poeti-y ; but his works have not l)een published

in a collected form. The " Auld Fleckit Cow" appeared in the Ai/r Ob-
server some years ago. The cow was the property of Mrs Harvey of Bal-

I
gray. She had been si.\ years farrow at the time, and continued to give

102
 ;

PETER GALBRAITH.

an astonishing quantity of milk. " If good, well fed cows," says the

author, " give their own weight in cheese through the course of the year,
it is deemed an ample return ; but this little animal will not feed above
nineteen stones imperial, yet she produced, last year, twenty-five stones of

sweet-milk cheese, besides serving the family with what butter and milk

they needed." Mr Aitken has followed various occupations throughout

his somewhat eventful life. At present he is working in a limestone

quarry on Trearne estate, in the parish of Beith. He is much beloved \

by his neighbours, who lately presented him with a purse, containing forty

guineas, and a handsome arm chair, of curious workmanship.

Peter Galbraith, that noble squire,

Of might and high renown,

lie built a palace, great and fair,

Hard by Pei'clewan town.*

He sought no help of man nor beast,

As I hear people tell

He was so valiant and so stout.

He built it a' himsel'.

But when the building was near done,

And all the stones were laid ;

A granite of pi'odigious size,

Came rolling in his head.t

To aid him with this ponderous stone,

He asked the neighbours round ;

And such a gathering ne'er before,

Was on Perclewan ground.

* A short distance from Dalrytnplc yillage.

f In hia imagination.
 PETER GALBRAITH.

And there for a memorial,

When Peter's dead and gone,

They've laid before his palace door,
The heavy granite stone.

Among the many eccentric characters with whom Ayrshire abounded

during the last, and the beginning of the present century, there are few,
perhaps, more worthy of a passing notice than Peter Galbraith, a native

of the parish of Dalrymple. " Merry Peter," as he was usually desig-

nated, from his constitutional equanimity of disposition, and proneness to

humour, possessed many good qualities ; and was far from being what is

commonly termed " a fool." His wits seemed to hover half-way between
sanity and confirmed aberrance. In sundry matters his shrewdness
greatly excelled ; whilst in others, his simplicity and credulity were con-

j
spicious. Besides learning the trade of a carpenter, he had acquired

some notion of mason work, and became rather famous as a builder with
I

mud in lieu of lime. He was, in consequence, much employed in erect-

\ ing stone fences throughout the country ; and one way or other continued

I
to eke out life in a pretty comfortable manner. Peter lived all his days

a bachelor. He, at one period, however, seriously contemplated taking

unto himself a wife ; and, with this object in view, he resolved first, like
I

J a prudent man, to build a house for her reception. This was a work

I
of no little time and labour ; for, like the Black Dwar-J", not a hand save

I
his own aided in the structure. A more remarkable instance of individual

I
perseverance is perhaps not on record. His house, which originally con-
i sisted of two stories, still exists at Perclewan, and is one of the best look-

I
ing, though upwards of half a century old, in the locality. The tenant of

the land gave Peter liberty to build, conceiving that the whim, as he con-
I

sidered it, would never be carried into execution. Peter, however, set

resolutely to work, when an idle day or hour permitted, and gradually the

\ walls began to assume a tangible shape. The stones were chiefly procured

I
from Patterton-hill, about a quarter of a mile distant. The small ones he

gathered and carried in his apron ; the larger he rolled down the inclined

plane to Perclewan. Some of them, from their size, seem far above the
strength of a single individual, j'et not a sinew but his own was applied

in conveying them either from the hill, or in elevating them upon the

104
 PETEK GALBRAITH.

walls. The stone-and-mud work finished, next came the labours of the
carpenter, and here the ingenuity of Peter was equally useful. The wood I

he bought whole, not in planks, as most people would have done who had
|

no one to aid them in the saw-pit. For the services of a fellow- workman !

he substituted a large stone, placed at the lower end of the saw, the weight \

of which helped to drag the instrument down, after he had drawn it up. I

By such contrivances as this, he succeeded in overcoming the most formid- l

able difficulties. At length Peter's castle, as his neighbours termed it, i

was completed ; having been built, roofed, and thatched, all by his own \

hands. One thing alone seemed wanting, and that was a large flag, to lay,
|

by way of pavement before the door. Peter, in his rambles, had discovered |

a stone admirably suited for the purpose, but being large and flat, he
could neither carry it in his apron, nor roll it along the ground, as he had
done with the others. Here, for the first time, he felt himself in a dilem-

ma ; but being well liked in the vicinity, Peter was no sooner known to

be in a predicament, than offers of assistance were tendered from all

quarters, and the bringing home of the flag was made a gala occasion.

The neighbourhood turned out in a body —old and young— to share in

the triumph of putting the cap-sheaf, as it were, on Peter's castle. The

stone being placed in a cart, drawn by six or eight horses, decorated with
flowers and evergreens, Saunders Geeivb, a well known local poetaster,

ascended the vehicle, and said or sung a long metrical harangue in honour

of the event. Of this production, the few verses given are all that have

been preserved. Saunders having finished his poetical eulogium, the

procession moved onward to the sound of the bagpipe. Never was such
a merry party seen in the district. Arriving at Perclewan, the stone waa
carefully laid in its proper place, amidst much cheering, and a bumper
drained to the health and prosperity of Peter. In the evening the pro-
ceedings were closed by a ball in the adjacent clachan, at which all the
beauty and fashion of the parish attended. Many a person marvelled
why Peter should have built a house of two stories, thinking that less
accommodation might have served him. But they httle knew his mind
on this subject. The lower flat he designed for his intended wife and
family —the higher for himself, that he might not be disturbed, as he re-

marked, by their bawling. But, as the result showed, Peter gutted his

10^
 PETER GALBRAITH.

\ fish before he caught them —wife or child he never had. With him the

l building of a castle was nothing, compared with the difficulties and dan- |

of courtship. He was a firm believer in witches, warlocks, and all

igers
the unseen tribes of evil spirits with which superstition tenanted the earth i

and air ; and his faith, in this respect, exercised the utmost control over >,

him. The object of his affection, Eppie Eobb, was a bouncing queen, in I

the prime of life, who would as soon have thought of wedding Old Nick as I

Peter ; but she carried on the joke for amusement. Their first and only i

meeting took place on the banks of a small streamlet — the burn gliding ^

between them. Peter soon made known his errand, but Eppie preferred

a disinclination to enter upon terms at such a distance from each other, >

and insisted that he should come across the water, "Na, na," quoth ]

Peter, with all the self-restraint of a Hippomeny, " ye ken that every body •

has an evil spirit about them ; and gin I war to gae ower the burn, nae
|

saying what we might be tempted to do. I canna gang ower, but ye ken |

my errand weel enough ; sae there's nae use in mony words about it.
|

Besides, it's no lucky to cross a rinnin' stream ; and thae deevils o' witches \

and fairies are every where on the watch." The words were no sooner
|

out of his mouth than a person who had accompanied Eppie to the tryst- \

ing place, and who lay concealed, began to throw stones in the brook. \

" See that !" cried Peter, " they're at their wavk already !" and hurrying
home as fast as his legs could carry him, he resolved never to go a-wooing I

again. But Peter was no coward when corporeal enemies alone were to \

be encountered. During the threatened invasion by the French, he dis- i

played a degree of loyalty and courage worthy of that warlike period. He \

applied frequently to be eni'oUed amongst the fencible corps ; and at length, i

by way of humouring him, he was accepted. Peter had regimentals like \

his fellow-volunteers ; but, in addition to the gun and bayonet, he wore |

an old sword, and a pair of pistols stuck in his belt —presenting in appear- \

ance quite the figure of a brigand. Nor would he fall into the ranks like

\
a common soldier — his zeal and peculiar notions of personal prowess led |

him invariably to assume the van —a position readily accorded to him by

the Colonel, who understood and tolerated his eccentricities. At the re-

views, Peter was easily distinguished on the field ; and the ladies were J

frequently pleased to enter into conversation with him — a mark of honour I

106
which invariably had the effect of elevating his head a couple of inches
higher, and adding materially to the length of his stride. At church, too,

on Sabbath, Peter maintained his warlike character, the gun alone being
laid aside in respect to the sanctity of the day. One night as he was

wending his way home from the " tented field," apparently without arms

of any kind, a country lad who knew him determined to give Peter's cour-

age a trial. Sallying fi'om the hedge at an unfrequented spot, he accosted

our hero in a gruff manner, and demanded his purse. Not at all surprised,

Peter drew a pistol from his pocket, and presented it at the pretented

highwayman, saying, with much coolness and u'ony of expression, " Tak'
care, lad, it's dangerous 1" The robber, we need scarcely add, speedily

left Peter master of the field. There are many amusing anecdotes told
of "Merry Peter." Once, when catechised by the Rev. Mr Walker,
minister of Dalrymple parish, the question put to him was, " How many
Gods are there ?" Peter replied correctly enough in the words of the
Shorter Catechism. "But," quoth he, assuming the office of catechist
in his turn, " can you tell me, Mr Walker, how many deevlls there are ?"
On one occasion Peter advertised the raffle of an arm-chair, at his castle.
A great number of people attended from various quarters of the parish,

in expectation of enjoying an evening's amusement. The chair, much

to the disappointment of the expectant throng, was nothing more than
the large stone in front of the door, that had taken so many horses to carry

to Perclewan, on each side of which he had placed a railing, in imitation

of a seat ! Most of Peter's anecdotes, however, and the flashes of his

wit, are of that homely and practical character that bids defiance to the
pen. His great hobby through life seems to have been the building
of houses. He feued a steading at one time in the Newton of Ayi", and
had proceeded a considerable length with the walls —the stones for which
he carried himself all the way from Balsaggart Hill, a distance of nearly

four miles — when, getting tired of the undertaking, he disposed of the feu
and the walls to a person who finished the tenement. He began another
house, in Dalrymple, which he also failed to finish. The feu, like all the

others in the village, ran for ninety-nine years. " Could your Lordship/'
said Peter, addressing the Earl of CassiUis, "no mak' it the even hund-
red?" When you come back," said the Earl facetiously, "I will give

107
 — ——
;

you a new lease!" Peter died at advanced age, about thirty-four years

[During the minority of James II., Scotland was thrown into gi'cat confusion through
the weakness of the executive, and the ambition and turbulence of the barons.
Amongst tlio many feuds arising out of the disturbed state of tlic times, that of the
Stewart and Boyd families is, perhaps, the most striking. It occurred in 1439, and
is thus related by Tytler, from the "History of the Stewarts:
" —
" Sir Alan Stewart
of Darnley, who had held the high office of Constable of the Scottish army in France,
was treacherously slain at Polmais thorn, between Falkirk and Linlithgow, by Sir
Thomas Boyd of Kilmarnock, 'for aul feud which was betwixt them ;' in revenge of
—
'
—
which Sir Alexander Stewart collected his vassals, and, in plain battle' to use the
expressive words of an old historian- manfully set upon Sir Tliomas Boyd, who was
'

cruelly slain, and many brave men on both sides.' The ground where the conflict
took place was at Craignaucht Hill, a romantic spot near Neilston in Renfrewshire.
Th6 victory at last declared for the Stewarts. History op Ayrshire.
Craignaucht, or Craignaugh, Hill, is a beautiful eminence in the parish of Dunlop,
Ayrshire, and about two miles east by north-east from Dunlop Village. Part of it at
present is the property of Alexander Cochran, Esq. of Grange, and part the property
of Andrew Brown, Esq. of Hill, Dunlop. There is an old tradition that tlie lady of
Sir Thomas Boyd died of grief shortly after hearing of the murder of her husband.]

Along the lea a weary page

At dewy eve ran fast,

Nor stopt to answer questions to

Those whom he quickly past
And when he came to Annick stream,
He sought no ford to cross.
But swam the pool and hurried on
Through dark Glenowther moss.

High in her hall a lady sat.

Of " wonderous beauty rare "

Her eye was like the diamond brigbfcj.'

Like sunbeams glent her hair-

And as she gazed far o'er the plain.

And marked the unopened gate,
She sighing said, all mournfully,
" My gallant lord comes late."

108
 : : ——;

--®^^&^^
THE BLOODY RAID.
(g>

" Ha ! yonder comes my little page.

And he has news to tell,

And nimbly is he speeding on

Adown the darkening fell

O quickly speed, my gallant page,

I'll gladden thy young eye

To tell me that my gallant lord

With his brave train are nigh."

The little page has reached the gate,

Nor sounds the pointer's call

But, in his hot and hurrying haste,

He nimbly climbs the wall
" My lady," cries the breathless page,

" I've mom'nful news to tell,

My lord and all his valiant band

Before the Stewarts fell.

'Twas dawn, and In the morning sky

The gay lark piped her song,

When by Loch Libo, in the glen.

We gaily rode along j

We dreamed not of an ambuscade >

From cruel murdering foe, \

No ready lance was couched at rest,

Unstrung was every bow. |

Thy gallant lord was in the van, i

Upon his milk-white steed, \

And over moor and hill and dell

|

We spurred along with speed ;

|

And as we mounted green Craignaucht,

j

We heard a trumpet sound

|

Two hundred of the Stewart clan !

Encompassed us around. \
 ; ; ;

)«^SI

@s^^
THE BLOODY EAID.

And quickly round our dauntless chief

Our hardy horsemen sprung

Some couched the lances in the rest,

And some their strong bows strung :

And with a shout the foes came on.

Around, behind, before
And soon the half of our brave men,

Lay weltering in their gore.

From right to left thy gallant lord I

Pursued the murdering foe, ;

Five of the bravest of the band \

Were by his arm laid low l

Till came a treacherous Stewart round t

On his swift steed of pride, 5

And with an aim too fatal plunged

A dagger in his side.

O, lady ! long and doubtful was

The bloody, wild affray.

And many a treacherous Stewart fell

And, bleeding, died to-day ;

But long, alas ! this bloody raid

By many will be mourned ;

Of all who left this noble hall,

I only have returned."

The page look'd on the lady's face,

But it was deadly pale.

The bright glance of her eye was gone,

She heard not half his tale.

She only heard her gallant lord

Had fallen in the fray ;

Her heart within her bosom died.

She swooned with grief away.

110
 —; !

Through the long night within the hall

Was heai-d a doleful wail

The widowed and the fatherless

Who mourned the fatal tale.

The morning comes, but not to soothe

The wounded bosom's woe.

To heal the aching heart and dry
The Ijitter tears that flow.

" lay me on my widow'd bed,"

The lady faintly said,
" And when I die, O let me be
By my dead lover laid !

My love, I'll share thy narrow bed,

I soon will meet with thee

I come, my love, for well I know

Thy spirit waits for me.

O farewell, earth, with all thy charms

Where joy no more I'll find,

My love is gone and left me, and

I cannot stay behind."

i They thought she slumbered when they gazed

I On her smooth checks so fair,

i And calm her features, beautiful,

I
But " life was wanting there."

This ballad is the production of J. D. Brown, author of " The Bard of

s Glazart," a poet of Nature's own making. He was brought up as a
ploughboy, and in a great measure educated himself. He was recently a
5 teacher, and is novt' connected, as traveller, with the Ayr Observer.
 ; ; ;

MY DOGGIE.

The neighbours a' they wonder how,

Iam sae taen wi' Maggie
But, ah ! they Httle ken I trow,

How kind she's to my doggie.

Yestreen as we Hnk'd o'er the lea,

To meet her in the gloamin',

She fondly on my bawtie cried.

Whene'er she saw us comin'.

But was the tyke not e'en as kind,

Tho' fast she beck'd to pat him ;

He louped up an' sleak'd her cheek.

Afore she could won at him.

But save us, Sirs, when I gaed in,

To lean me on my sattle,

Atween my bawtie and the cat.

There rose an awfu' battle.

An' tho' that Maggie saw him lay.

His lugs in bauthron's coggie ;

She wi' the besom lounged poor chit,

An' syne she clapp'd my doggie.

Sae weel do I this kindness feel,

Tho' Meg she is na bonnie

An' tho' she's feckly twice my age,

I lo'e her best of ony.

May not this simple ditty show.

How oft affection catches.

And from what silly sources too,

Proceed unseemly matches.

An' eke the lover he may see,

Albeit his joe seem saucy

112 I
 THE lady's DREABI.

i If she is kind unto his dog, i

''
He'll win at length the lassie.
|

I
" My Doggie" is the composition of Mr Joseph Train, the well known
|

correspondent of Sir Walter Scott. He is the author of " A History of i

1 the Isle of Man," and various other interesting works. i

The turrets of the Baron's tower,

AVere tinged with evening's light,

"When, wrapt in thought, the lady sought
The warder's giddy height.

" Say, faithful -n'arder, hast thou seen,

Across the heathy wold.
The manly form of my gallant lord.

With his mail-clad warriors bold ?"

" I've looked," he said, *' across the plain,

But no mail-clad men I've seen ;

And all is silent, save the wind,

That stirs the woodland's green."

" Then wo is mine !" said the lady fair

" Within my troubled mind

Foreboding thoughts arise, and tell

That fate has been unkind.

" But haply, ere to-morrow's sun

Awakes the sleeping flower,

He yet again may bliss my arms,

Within our ancient tower."

Thus soothed by hope, she sought her couch.

But broken was her sleep

113
 ! ; — — ;

\m
THE liADT'S DREAM.

By awful dreams, of blood and death

Of war and carnage deep.

Culloden's blood-besprinkled moor

Rushed fearful on her sight,

And she saw the sword of her gallant lord

Subdued by the foeman's might.

Again she dreamed, and on her ear

A death-knell sadly tolled ;

And lo ! upon the chamber floor

A head all bloody rolled

" 'T is he ! 't is he !" she wildly cried

" But why that clotted hair

And why those glazed and death-like eyes.

That once so radiant were ?

" Speak ! speak ! my loved, my dearest lord,

Nor keep me thus in pine

Say, why so mangled and alone-—

Has dark defeat been thine ?"

But when her lips these words had breathed.

The ghastly form was gone ;

And through the tower a doleful voice

Thus spoke with solemn tone.

" Rise, hapless lady, from thy couch,

Morn dawns on flower and tree ;

And its beams so fail", and its balmy air.

No gladness bring to thee.

<•
For Cumberland, with sword and brand.
Hath triumphed o'er the brave ;

And on bleak Culloden's bloody inoor

The good have found a grave.

 ; ; ;

THE LADY'S DREAM.

" And the tyrant band, to Southern land

Have borne thy lord so dear ;

And there he lies, like meanest slave,

In dungeon dark and drear.

" The scaiFold grim shall be raised for him,

By unrelenting foes

Then, lady fair, in haste repair.

To soothe his bosom's woes."

Pale, pale with dread the lady woke,

And knelt to heaven in prayer ;

" Oh shield me, God, amid the ills

!

My heart is doomed to bear."

Then to her little page she said,

" Go, bring my swiftest steed

And let us to proud England hie,

With lightning's winged speed."

The steed was brought — she left the tower.

With tear-drops in her eyes

And fleet as bird by fowler chased,

Away, away she flies.

Long, rough and lonesome •was the way.

But onward still she flew ;

And soon behind her disappeared

Fair Scotland's hills of blue.

And through the haughty foeman's land

She rode, devoid of fear ;

Till rose upon her sight the Tower,

Where lay her lord so dear.

With trembling heart she reached the gate,

And sought her love to see ;

W 11^
 ; —

SATS I, QUO I.

But the watchmen rude, in jesting mood,

But mocked her misery.

At length came on the hour of death.

To her an hour of dread

And then, alas ! she saw her lord

To bloody scaffold led.

She saw him kneel beside the block.

In deep and fervent prayer

She tried to rush into his arms,

But vain her efforts were.

" Oh, God !

" she cried, " arrest the hand

Upraised his blood to shed !"

But ere her feeble voice was heard,

He slumbered with the dead.

This ballad, the composition of Archibald M'Kay, Kilmarnock, is founded

5 on a dream which the lady of Lord Kilmarnock is said to have had, a night

I
or two after he was taken prisoner, by the king's troops, at the fatal battle

^
of Culloden. " Kilmarnock," says the historian Smollett, " was a noble-

> man of fine personal accomplishments ; he had been educated in Revolu-

^ tion principles, and engaged in the Rebellion, partly from the desperate
•<;
situation of his fortune, and partly from resentment to the Government,
i on being deprived of a pension which he had for some time enjoyed." Ac-
cording to other accounts, he had been persuaded to join the rebels by his

lady, who was strongly attached to the cause of the Stuarts. Dean Castle,

in the neighbourhood of Kilmarnock, though partly destroyed by fire some

years previous, is supposed to have been the residence of the lady during
the absence of the Earl with the rebel army.

Sap I, quo' I.

Says I, quo' I, ae Friday at e'en.

Sax owks afore I was married to Jean-

116
 — :
• ; —— — ;
: : ;

sATS I, QUO' I.

In her ain faithei-'s barn, amang the fresh strae,

As in ilk ither's arms we sae cosily lay —

" Oh Jeanie, quo' I, will ye gie your consent,

An' say we'll be married — an' dinna relent ?

My heart's in a lowe, an' I'm a' in a fry

I'm deein' o' luve! says I quo' I."

Says she, quo' she, " dear Robin tak' tent

O' what thou's noo sayin', thou'U maybe repent

For thy words spring frae folly, an' fickle desire

The best cure for a hurvUs baud it weel to the fire :

Ay, gif we were married the day ere the mom,

Thy fine glowin' speeches would a' turn to scorn :

'Deed ere sax months are ended — ye'll live yet to see

It's the truth I am tellin' " — says she, quo' she.

Says I, quo I, to my ain wife Jean,

When aughteen lang owks we married had been

The meal it was done, an' the 'taties were scant.

An' wark I had nane —we were likely to want

Our frien's were hard-hearted — our credit was gane
No a plack either frien'ship or credit to buy.
" Oh " quo I — as I glower't in the face o' our Jean
!

" May the de'il tak' this marriage !" says I, quo' I.

Says she, quo' she — an' loud leugh our Jean

"Do ye min' the barn, Robin, yon Friday at e'en ?
When ye vow't neither trouble or care should e'er turn
That luve that occasion'd your heart sae to hum ;
But poverty, noo, has gi'en us a claw,

An' chas'd a' that luve that ye bore me awa :

A' your vows an' professions —they're no worth a flee :

Losh ! how foolish he leuks !" says she, quo' she.

Says I, quo' I — as cuif-like I luiklt

" Faith, guidwife, I maun own that I'm tightly rebuikit

For that luve that I spak' o' I fin's no' the thing

117
kO\fe^^.
 ——— ;

To sustain us when poverty gi'es us a fling."

Says she, quo' she, as she chink 't at my lug,

Fifteen yellow Geordies tied up in a rag ;

" I keepit thae frae ye, your luve for to try :"

" Try't as a/ten's ye like " — says I, quo' I.

^ The author of this song is Mr John Moore, Editor of the Ayrshire and

\
Renfreivsliire Agriculturist. It was composed by way of trying what

\
could be made in rhyme of the once very common expression of " Says I,

\
quo' I," which a worthy in the neighbourhood where he then resided was

\ in the habit of appending to every sentence. That Mr Moore accom-

\
plished his task in a truly poetic manner must be universally admitted.

O ! sair is my heart an' the tear dims my e'e,

Sin' Heaven has ordeen'd my auld wifie should dee,

The enjoyments o' life nae mair pleasure can gie ;

I'm lanely noo —O ! I'm lanely noo.

Weel, weel I remember my joy an' my pride,

When I canter'd her hanie to my ain ingle side.

The kintra could boast nae a winsomer bride ;

But I'm lanely noo — ! I'm lanely noo.

An' aft has it gladden'd my bosom to see

Her thrang at her thrift, an' as busy's a bee,

But still her e'e beaming wi' kindness on me ;

But I'm lanely noo — O! I'm lanely noo.

An' then, O sae kin'ly 's she cuitor'd the weans

To keep them a' tidy spared nae toil or pains :

But memory's treasui'e is a' that remains ;

I'm lanely noo —O ! I'm lanely noo.

118

i^-
 ——— ——— ;

I AM A JOLLY FARMING MAN,

She never annoy'd me wi' sulks or wi' taum

If my temper was ruffled, her answer was calm
For every distemper she aye had a balm ;

But I'm lanely noo —O ! I'm lanely noo.

When the troubles an' trials o' hfe would annoy,

Baith peace an' contentment o' min' to destroy.
Her mild honey'd words aft inspired me wi' joy ;

But I'm lanely noo —O ! I'm lanely noo.

At e'en when I'm sittin' fu' dowie my lane,

I aft think I see her across the hearthstane, |

An' it withers my heart when I fin' I'm mista'en ;

|

I'm lanely noo — ! I'm lanely noo. i

An' whyles in my visions, the tones o' her voice |

Thrill sweet in my ear, and my heart-strings rejoice ; I

I fain would depart an' partake in her joys ;

|

For I'm lanely noo — ! I'm lanely noo.

I fondly had dream'd it again an' again.

That when laid on a couch o' affliction an' pain,
Her soothin' attentions my heart would sustain ;

But I'm lanely noo — ! I'm lanely noo.

The day brings nae joy, I'm sae dowie an' eerie ;

The night winna pass, I'm sae lanesome an' drearie ;

I lang to lie doun in the grave by my dearie ;

For I'm lanely noo —O ! I'm lanely noo.

This pathetic picture of the desolate condition of an old man, whose family
I

have all left the "roof tree," and whose aged partner has been severed
from him by death, is by Mr Stevenson, teacher, pai-ish of Beith.

I am a f oUg dFaiming Mm,

What's bags o' gowd to rag about,

Or rigs o' Ian' to brag about;

 — ; ;

Without a wife to comfort life.

And keep us hail, and wag about.

I am a jolly farming man,

Wi' carts and ploughs and routh o' nout,

A mailin cheap o' hearty Ian',

But something still I want I doubt.

I hae a lairdship i' the town,

And siller i' the bank to bout,

Wi' barrels fou o' nappy brown.

But whar's the ane to han't about.

I hae a byre fou o' kye,

And plenty baith within and out

But ! sae lanely's I maun lie,

And gaunt and grane and toss about. .

My stables are wi' naigies rife

Baith lan's and furrows fat and stout

But still I want a dainty wife.

To daut and lay my arm about.

I'm no that auld, I'm no that frail,

Sae ere anither year is out,

I'll hae a lassie to mysel'

To keep me beil, and wag about.

J Mb Lennox, Superintendent of the Poor in Ayr, is the author of these

'i canty lines. Should we meet encouragement to go on W'ith a Second

^

\ Series of the " Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire,"^ we shall have more i

s to present from his pen. ;

AYR : — COMt>OSItt> AT THfi AGRICDLTCBIST OPPICE.

120
rrai^s^JSJ-'

THE

BALLADS AND SONGS

OF AYRSHIRE,
ILLtTSTRATED WITH

SKETCHES, HISTORICAL, TRADITIONAL,

NARRATIVE AND BIOGRAPHICAL.

SECOND SERIES.

" Old King Coul was a merry old soul,

And a jolly old soul was he ;

Old King Coul he had a brown bowl,

And they brought him in fiddlers three."

EDINBURGH:
THOMAS G. STEVENSON,
87 PRINCES STREET.

MDCCCXLVir.
PRINTED BY A. MURRAY, MILNE SQUARE, EDINEUReH,
 —

KEMARKS
ON

THE FIRST SERIES OF THE "BALLADS AND SONGS."

{From the " Ayrshire Monthly Neivs-Letter.")

The Editor, in the introduction to this the First Series of his very
beautifully printed " Ballad Book," observes, that " Renfrewshire has
her Harp why not Ayrshire her Lyre ?" Why not say we. For I

our own part, we should like to see the idea carried out to the fullest
—
extent until every county in Scotland had a record of the tradition-
ary lore contained therein.
A praiseworthy volume, entitled " The Contemporaries of Burns,"
published by H. Paton, Edinburgh, 1840, gave some curious infonna^
tion respecting the satellites that revolved round our great poetic lu-
minary. All of them, it is true, had " committed the sin of rhyme,"
as Burns expressed it but had they been tried, in the court of Apol-
;

lo, by a jury of poets, for trespassing on the hill of Parnassus, and

endeavouiing to carry away a flask of inspiration from the fountain
of Hippocrene, one and all of them would have been found '• Not
guilty !" Some of them were tolerable versifiers, but none of them
Mahhars, in the true sense of the word. If we mistake not, the
same Editor has again brought his antiquai'ian knowledge to bear
upon " The Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire." We
being inveterate
ballad-mongei's, few things, to our minds, are more delightful than a
gossip about old songs, and the Editor who brings a work of this de-
scription under our notice deserves our special thanks. In short, we
may say with Shakespeare, that we love a ballad even too well. Nay,
we are free to confess that we have spent much of our time
" Dreaming of nought but idle poetry,
That fruitless and unprofitable art.
Good unto none, but least to the possessors."

The First Series of the Ballads, &c., now befoi'e us, opens with
" Johnie Faa," the gipsy laddie. The Editor remarks, " There are
several versions of this ballad the one we have copied is from the
;

Collection by Finlay, who added considei'ably to the imperfect one

which first appeared in the Tea Tahle Miscellany. He also appended
some traditional particulars to the subject of the ballad." It would
have been moie correct, if the Editor had simply stated that Mr Fin-
lay added the tliird and fourth stanzas, modified some of the expres-
sions, and, by altering the orthography, rendered the balhid more
 •

Scottish in its character. Mr Finlay deserves credit for these addi-

tional stanzas, but we are not so national as to approve of his verbal
emendations. As stated by our Editor, Mr Finlay, in his histoncal
ballads, endeavoured to throw some light on the traditional story of
Johnie Faa. According to his account, a courtly knight, who was a
^
lover of the lady before her niariiage, carried her off in the disguise
\ of a gypsy. This stripped the ballad of much of its romance, but
< rendered it more probable. This story set certain antiquaries upon
\ the search, and one of them soon settled the matter by making the
\ heroine Lady Jean Hamilton, a daughter of Thomas, first Earl of
N Haddington, who was married to John, sixth Earl of Cassillis. Had
this statement been borne out by facts, the matter would have been
{ set at rest. Unfortunately our Editor has thrown great doubts on
this " very circumstantial story," by producing a letter of the Earl of
\ Cassillis, addressed to Lord Eglinton, inviting him to attend the fu-
\ neral of the above nientioned Countess, wherein she is styled " my
; deir bedfellow." This letter is dated Cassillis, the 15th December,
( 164:2. Lord Eglinton sympathises with the noble Earl, by sajdng,
S
" I am sorrowfuU from my soul for yor. Lo. great losse and heavie vi-
<. sitation." John, the sixth Earl of Cassillis, is described as " a stern
\ covenanter," but unless he was one of the greatest h^'pocrites that
\ ever lived, he could not have addressed Lord Eglinton in this man-
j
ner nor could his lordship have condoled with the Earl on the loss
;

of his " wanton lady." From all this, it may be inferred that many
/ things are put into the mouth of '• dark tradition" which her " waver- S

< ing tongue" never uttered. Burns, in his Memorandum on Scottish ;

;;
Song, observes, " The castle is still remaining at Maybole where his
|

\ lordship shut up his wayward spouse, and kept her for life." On this 1

\ tradition, two modern songs have been written to suit the beautiful
< air of the old ballad one by P. F. Tytler, Esq., for Mr Thomson's
;

i musical collection —
the other by Captain Gray, R.M. shall We
\
quote a stanza or two from each of these songs : —
< " The bright full moon yon massy tower
< In silver shower is steeping,
\ "Where Cassillis' lost but lovely flower
]
Her lonely watch is keeping.
i Unniov'd as marble there she sits,
> iso sense of life revealing,
> Save where the hectic flush by fits
I
O'er her pale cheek is stealing.

}
Her fix'd eye seeks the west afar,
*
Her liair is idly streaming.
And on her casement's iron bar
The taper's light is gleaming.
Oh could she in that dungeon's gloom
:

From Heaven one blessing borrow,

It were a speedy nameless tomb
To close upon her sorrow."

I
It will be owned that these verses are flowing and graceful, and can-
j
not fail to blend beautifully with the air. Captain Gray's song takes
the shape of a Lament, and it must be confessed that he has not
 : —

REMARKS.

overcome all the difficulties to which this mode of composition has

subjected him. At the same time, it will be owned that it is much
easier to sing about the captive lady than to put words in her mouth :

" O let not woman after me

Exult in youth and beauty.

My een, that once were bonnie blue,

Love's saftest glances flinging,
Are dimm'd, alas by sorrowing dew
!

From misery's fountain springing :

My hair that once was lang and sleek,

VVi' grief is fast decaying :

And tears find channels down that cheek

Where rosy smiles were playing.
Now spring has flung o'er field and flower
The garment of her gladness :

While here I sit in prison tower

In mair than winter's sadness :

The wild birds flit frae tree to tree

The groves v.i' music ringing
O I was ance as blythe and free
!"
As oaie bird that's singing

The ballad entitled Crypsi/ Davie, first printed by Motherwell, in his

Minstrelsy, is evidently a modern offshoot from the old version, of no
{ value ;—vulgar in its language, and reckless in its rhymes,

\ " We wonder how the d — 1 it got there !"

It is just such a copy as might have been picked up by a certain anti-

I

quary in the " North Countrie."

<

—
Tlic Editor still believes ^and we agree with him in thinking ^that —
i this balliid was founded upon a reality but if so, it is clear, that the
;

'/
antiquaries must search for some one else as the heroine than Lady I

I
Jean Hamilton, the sixth Countess of Cassillis. ^
" Johnie Faa was no imaginary character. He was the acknow-
ledged head of the Egyptians, or GN'psies, in Scotland;" and the Edi-
I

tor produces a letter under the Privy Seal, by King James V., in fa-
vour of " Johnie Faa, Lord and Erie of Litill Egypt." February 15,
I

154:0. This curious document, which is given at length, contains the

I

I
names of twelve of Johnie's company and folks all of them, appar- — <

ently, of foreign extraction, who, if caught, were to be " punist con- >
I

I forme to the lawis of Eigjit." We know not what " the lawis of ^
t Eigpt " were, but doubt not, that if any of Johnie's rebellious sub- ?

I jects had foUcn into his hands, he would have executed the said lawis \

\ upon them in as summary a manner as King^Jamcs the Fifth did

\ —
upon Johnie Armsti'ong and his men as disgraceful an act of treach-
ery as ever was perpetrated by Turk or tyrant not that the ricver ;

did not deserve his fate, but that " the deed was foully done." Truth
in those days must have been Ijing at the bottom of an unfathom-
able well, when even the word of a King could not be trusted In !

this case, while justice grasped the sword, she must have dropped her
balance.
Lady Mary Ann. The Editor does not seem to be aware that we
 owe tlic preservation of this fine ballad, and its beautiful air, to
Burns, who noted them down from a Ituly, in 1787, during his tour in
the North of Scotland, and sent them to Johnson's Musical Museum."
The song is evidently founded on an old ballad, entitled " Craigston's
growing," published by INIr Maidment in the " North Countne Gar-
land," Edinburgh, 1824. A
traditional copy of this ballad will like-
wise be found in Motherwell's edition of Burns, vol. iii. p. 42. After
all that has been said about this ballad, it is not improbable that Burns
may have licked it into its present shape.
I Old King Coul. Antiquaries are not at at all agreed as to the
\ identity of" Old King Coal. Mr Stenhouse, in a note on this song,
'/ (see Johnson's 3Iuslcal Museum, v. p. 417,) says, " Auld King Coul
i was the fabled-father of the giant Fyn M'Coule." The present Edi-
\ tor fails in tracing the ballad farther back than Herd's Collection,
s published in 1776. We
cannot look upon it as having any claim to
\ antiquity. There is nothing old in the language, or structure of the
\ verse. In this respect, it might have made its first appcjirance at
I
Ranelaugh, or Vauxhall, a century ago. Mr Stenhouse observes that
" The well-known song of Four-and-twenty Fiddlers all in a Row,'
'

I
which first appeared in the Pills to purge Melancholy,' in 1712, is
'

I
evidently a parody of this ballad of Auld King Coul." The present j

\
Editor is a believer in its antiquity he says, '' That this ditty is old
:

can scarcely be doubted. From the lines

" And there's no a lass in braid Scotland
Compared to our sweet Marjory,"

we should suppose the composition as ancient as the days of Robert

the Bruce, whose only daughter, Marjoni, married Walter the Stew-
ard of Scotland. We
have appropriated the verses in the belief that
\ the Old King Coul whom they celebrate was no other than the
'
'

\ Coul or Coil of history, whose fate in battle has given the name of
'i.
Coil or Kyle to one of the three great divisions of Ayrshire." Look-
'>
ing upon these events as having any connexion with the balhul ap-
( —
pears to us to be extremely fanciful the morning dream of a stanch,
but credulous antiquary. The account, nevertheless, of the " Disco-
j
very of Sepulchral Urns in the grave of King Coul," will be found
'f extremely interesting to all who take any interest in the antiquities
< of their native land. The great mciit of the Series before us consists
\ in these local antiquarian sketches.*

I
The Lass of Patie's Mill. It appears from the •' Statistical Ac-
5 count of Scotland," that the first " lass of Patie's ]\Iill " was the only
\
daughter of John Anderson, Esq., of Patie's Mill, in the parish of
Keith-hall, in Aberdeenshire. The music is old and beautiful, but
not a line of the original song has been presei-ved. Allan Ramsay
adapted his words to the old melody, and transfcrrc<l the heroine of
his muse to the parish of Galston in the county of Ayr, where a mill
of a similar name was existing in his time. Undoubtedlv, " the lass

* Since the aliovc was in type, we find that both the words and music of
" Old King Cole" are included in Chappell's Collection of " Ancient English
Melodies." London, 1840.
 :

of Patie's Mill " is one of the finest songs that Ramsay ever wrote.
The bare-heacled beauty who inspired the poet with such a strain,
must have been " worth gaun a mile to see." See Stenhouse's lUus- I

strations, Musical Mvseum, vol. i. p. 20. \

My ain Fireside. Editors are often led astray by following, impli- ;

citly, in the footsteps of their predecessors. This song was written >

by Mrs Elizabeth Hamilton, author of " The Cottagers of Glen- \

buniie," and first published in Cromek's " Remains of Nithsdale and \

Galloway Song," London, 1810. We

have seen it in other Collec- \

tions, ascribed to John Hamilton, music seller, Edinburgh and the ;

\

present Editor has evidently been led astray in attributing it to Wil- ;

liam Hamilton of Gilbertfield, by a musical work entitled " The Gar- \

land of Scotia," published in Glasgow, 1841, where the mistake seems

to have originated. To this song the Editor has appended a scanty ;

notice of the rhyming Lieutenant, and his fixmily, which is not with- ^

out interest. He observes that, " from the few pieces known to have \

emanated from his pen, it cannot be denied that he possessed a con- \

siderable vein of poesy." We

never understood, however, that any \

thing hjrical proceeded from his pen. Although we are inclined, \

with the Editor, to estimate the epistolary correspondence of Hamil- |

ton and Ramsay at a higher rate than some of the rhymsters of the \

present day, with whom we have conversed on the subject, are dispos- \

ed to do we are by no means prepared to admit that, in the " fami-

; \

liar epistle " which passed between them, " the supeiiority may justly \

be awarded to the Ayrshire poet." Ramsay was a man of genius, )

although not of the highest order. Hamilton was only an occasional {

versifier, but not without merit. It is highly creditable to the Lieut- >

enant's powers as a writer of Scottish poetry, that a local effusion of \

his, entitled " The last words of Bonny Heck,"

—
Collection, 1700 ^should have roused the emulation of Ramsay, and
—
printed in Watson's \

imped the wing of his unfledged muse. This we have under Ram- \

say's own hand :

" When I begoud first to ciin verse,

And coiid your Ardry Whins '* rehearse,
'

Where Bonny Heck ran fast and fierce,

It warmed my Lreast
Then emuhition did me pierce,
Whilk since ne'er ceast."

Nearly the whole of the sixth epistle is written in Ramsay's finest

vein. For flow of vei'sification, and beauty of expression, it may vie
with any fdiniliar verses in the language, if we except some of
Burns's epistles written in the same difficult, but effective stanza.
What can compare with the following jovous verses, written at Edin-
burgh on the 2d of September, 1719?

" Yet sometimes leave the rigs and bog.

Your howms and braes, and sliady scrog,

* An estate in the east part of Fifeshire, hitelv possessed bv Methven, the

last Earl of KelHe.
 :

REMARKS.

And helm-a-lce the claret cog,

To clear yoiu" wit
Be blyth, and let the world e'en shog
As it thinks tit.

When northern blasts the ocean snurl.

And gar the heights and hows look jurl,
Then about the bumper whirl,
lelt
And toom the horn ;

Grip fast the hours which hasty hurl,

The morn's the morn !"

It maybe said by some caviller that these verses are an imitation of

Horace ;
—
tnie ^but who, we may ask, ever imitated the Roman bard
like Allan Rivmsay ?
The auld Fleckit Cow. There is " a bit of Nature," as Bewick of
Newcastle hath it, in Andrew Aitken of Beith. Unfortunately, bards
of his description, when set a-singing, never know when to stop. In-
stead of condensing their thoughts into a couple of stanzas, they
spread them over two pages of octavo, totally forgetting that we have
not the patience which our forefathers had in listening to a long story, j

It is quaUty, not quantity, that is wanted in the " rhyming ware" of \

the present day. Eight double verses, in long metre, in praise of an \

auld fiecVtt cow, is a great deal too much. Not having room for quo-
tation, we would point to the penultimate stanza as the best in the
ballad. \

The Bloody Raid, shows that Mr J. D. Brown has a turn for bal- '>

poetry, which he ought to cultivate.

l;id
My Doggie. This is a good illustration of the old adage, " Love |

me, love my dog," by the veteran bard and antiquary, Joseph Train.
In our opinion, he has rather strained " the moral of the thing,"
which makes it less pleasing than it otherwise would have been.
/ am a Jolly fanning man. Unless the first verse of this song is
intended as a chorus, it should commence with the second, " I am a
jolly farming man." Mr Lennox has some of the raw material of
lyric poetry in him, but we fear that he lacks the skill to bring it out
in an effective manner. We
shall be better able to judge, however,
when we see a few more specimens from his pen.
The auld man's croon. There are some touches of pathos in this
song by Mr Stevenson of Beith, but he falls into the same error of )

his townsman, Mr Andrew Aitken; he draws the staple of his dule- {

fxC croon to such a length that it gets attenuated, and finally dies of }

inanition. J

Says I, quo' I, by J. Moore, is a clever song. We wonder ',

" How he, or onie breathing,

!" j

Could mak' sae muckle out o' naething

j

It is a pity that he should have taken the vulgar phrase of " Says I,
quo' I," as the subject of his song, which detracts much from its merit.
We hope he will try his hand, in the next series, on a theme less ex-
ceptionable, and worthy of the power and originality which he has
displayed in this ballad.
We shall return to the " Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire," in our
next number.
 —

[Second Notice.]

We may say with Ilolofernes, the schoolmaster, that " we arc no-
thing, if we are not Imiaiitely'] critical." Yet we know little or no-
thing of the art of criticism, so called we moan that which is prac-
;

tised in quarterly re^news, monthly magazines, and in the weekly and

daily joiu-nals. Welay no claim to superiority of intellect or to see-
;

ing failher than others into the suhlimities of an Epic poem, or disco-
rering a sharper sting in the tail of an E])igram. Nay, our observa-
tions may be " undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, un-
trained, or rather unlettered ;" but what we do give forth, we wish it
to be understood as our own unbought opinions. In fact, " we left no
calling for this idle craft;" Ave served no appi'enticeship to it we took
;

it up at our ain hand, as Davie Dibble did the delving, or the Jleckit
cow the flinging. At the same time, we have been familiar with
Scottish song since the days that we could command a hatvhee to buy
a ballant, and much of our time has been spent in turning over the
legendary lays of our native land. We trust, then, that we are not
altogether unqualified to sit in judgment on the work before us.
Proceed we then with our self-imposed task we may err in taste,
;

and be found wanting in judgment, but we bow to none ^j^aid or un- —

paid, in honesty of pui-pose.
Tarn o' the Balloch. We believe Hew Ainslic, the author of this
song, was the first to confer honour upon Ayrshire by calling it " The
Land of Burns." Ayrshire, take it altogether, its wood and water —
its hill and dale —
its pasture lands and corn-fields —
is, perhaps, the
most beautiful pastoral county in Scotland. It was with no idle boast,
then, that Burns wrote to W. Simpson, Ochiltree,
" %\'illie, set your fit to mine,
And cock your crest,
We'll gar our .streams and liurnies shine
Up wi' the best.
We'll sing auld Coila's plains an' fells," &c.

Bums kept his word. " Nature, in a' her shews and fonns," lent
him inspiration and now the " Invin, Lugar, Aigr, and Boon," live
;

in the light of undying song. The traveller comes from afar to visit
their banks and braes, which have been rendci'cd classical by the pen
of our inspired ploughman.
By the kindness of a friend, Ave have been favoured with the per-
usal of a letter from Ainslie, dated Louisville, June 20, 1846 from it ;

we have been permitted to take a few extracts, without doing any

violation, we trust, to private friendship for although I\Ir A., long
;

since, sought a foreign shore, ho is still a Scotsman at heart, and his

name will live in the poetry of his country. Ayrshire may well be
proud of him, and the readers of the News-Letter rejoice to hear that
he is still in the land of the living. Ainslie says to his fiiend :

" What days o' daftin did not your letter bring back but let that flee
!

stick to the wa'. Glad am I to find that you are still hale and hearty,
though got amongst the silver greys. It's mony a lang day since my
pow began to tak' the John Anderson livery. * * * I had a
short note from W u^ W d this spring, Avith a nuni-
 — —

REMARKS.

ber of a publication, entitled The Poets of Ayrshire,' in which my

'

\ history is given as if I had been one of the departed, for, as following

i the maxim of Never speak ill of the dead,' my biogi-apher gives it to
'

me thick enovgh!" A
report had gone abroad that it was Ainslie's
intention to visit his native land last summer, and in his letter he
>.

\
savs
—
"of surety, it was so; but I need not tell you how 'the best
\ laid schemes o' mice an' men' are treated in this wicked Avorld. * *
I
Things must have changed awfully since I left it twenty-four years
\ ao'o But, O man it made me proud to see that neither your heart
! !

i nor your hand had altered. * * * Atween us twa I don't despair

V of shaking you yet by the han' o' flesh." It will be seen from these

\
extracts, that Mr Ainslie has lost none of his devotion to his father-
; land, nor affection for the friend of his youth and it is quite clear ;

J
that, although time may have silvereezed the pow of the poet, his
\ heart is as green and as glowing as in the days of old. Should it ever
\
be Hew Ainslie's lot to make a second " Pilgrimage to the Land of j

\ Burns," many a friendly hand will be held out to bid him welcome.
< How we should like to introduce him to the Irvine Burns Club, and
\
show him, that while the members of it venerated the memory of our
< departed poet, they felt a due appreciation of what was excellent in
^ living worth and genius.
\
We entirely agree with the Editor, that the " fame of Hew [not
I
'
Huo-h'] Ainslie, as a Scottish poet, is by no means commensurate
\ with his deserts."
^ Ainslie has not written much, nor are his poems of the highest
I
order but we feel no hesitation in saying that he possesses, by far,
;

i the most poetical mind that has sprung up in Ayrshire since the days
\ of Burns. He has a fine command of the idiomatic words and phrases
( of his native country, which he uses with great dexterity. On reading
I
the song before us, one might imagine that the humorous was his
s forte, but he Is equally at home in the pathetic and the descriptive.
\ He sketches a full length portrait of his " Muii-land" worthy, with a
\ stroke or two of his graphic pencil
<
" Wha once was your match at a stotip and a tale ?
\ Wi' a a sea, and a drouth like a xvhale ?"
voice like

\
What a man to fill a corner at the fireside of a country dachan in a
< long Avinter's night Just mark, for a moment, his con\-i\nal qualities
!

\
combined with his large capacity as a boon companion Wio, like!

I him, could lilt up the matchless ditties of " Todlin' hame," " Andro'
1 wi' his cuttie gun," and do so much justice to the " Tappit hen," at a ;

i down-sitting The conception of this song is excellent, and the idea

!

I
well brought out. The transformation wrought upon " Muirland Tam,"
I
from his having
" A briest like a buird, and a back like a door,"
\

\ is only disclosed in the last line of the song :

>
" But the word that makes me sae waefu' and wan,
) Is Tam o' the Balloch's a married man '.''

Many songs, in the same style, have been written, some of them by
men "of mark and likelihood, "but "Tam o' the Balloch," as yet, stands
I
 — — : —

M^^^s-

unrivalled. Had Ainslie never written another song but this one, it
would have gained a place for him like the authors of " Mary's—
Dream," and " Lucy"s Flitten," in the pantheon of Scottish lyrists.
But Ainslie's fame docs not rest upon the humorous he has high ;

claims upon the sentimental and the descriptive. We have no sea-

song in the Scottish language equal to his " Rover of Lochryan."
Whoever, like ourselves, has been "on the deep, deep sea," when
" the winds were piping loud, and white waves heaving high ;" when
the good ship trembled from stem to stern, as she " bowl'd o'er the
back of a wave," will find the rough music of old Ocean echoed in the
strains of this fine spirited ballad :

" It's no -when the yawl, aud the light skiffs crawl
"O'er the breast o' the siller sea, &c.
But when that the dud lays its cheeks to the flood,
And the sea lays its shouther to the shore ,•

When the wind sings high, and the sea-whaups cry.

As they rise frae the whitening roar.
* * * » »
Unstent and slack each reef and tack,
Gie her sail, boys, while it may sit
She has roared through a heavier sea before.
And she'll roar through a heavier yet !"
AVe confess that we never read this admirable song but our old heart
bounds within us as, in the days of other years, we feel ourselves
;

once more on the quarter deck of a tight frigate, with a flowing sheet,*
going thirteen knots in chase of an enemy The inspii'ation of the !

poet is complete; we
" Dash through the drift, and sing to the lift
Of the wave that heaves us on\"
After this, little more need be said in praise of Hew Ainslie as a song
writer. When he seizes upon an image, he presents it to the mind in
the clearest light and liveliest form, e.g.,
" Our
pleasui'cs are constantly gi'en to disease,
And Hope, poor thing, aft gets dowy or dees.
While dt/ster Care, wi' his darkest litt,
Keeps dipping awa' — but I'm living yet!"
The following descriptive lines are from a " Ballad to the Bat"
" at e'en, whan the flower had its fill
O' the dew, and was gather'd thegither,
Lying down on its leaf, saft and still,
Like a babe on the breast o' its luither."
We shall conclude our remarks with a few passionate stanzas from
the " Gowan o' the West" :

" Gae bring to nie a wooer youth.

That I, to ease my woes.
May bring my gowan o' the west
Against the southern rose.

* From an expression in Allan Cunningham's fine song, " wet sheet, and a A
flowing sea," landsmen are apt to imagine that a sail is meant, whereas it is a
rope. When a ship is sailing before the wind, she is said to be going with a flow-
ing sheet ; that is, with the sheets, or ropes, of the main and foresails slack; in
contradistinction to the sheet, or tack, being close-hawl'd v,'hen sailing on a ivind.
 ; :

She may he gentle tliy heart's love,

She may be fair and fine ;

But, by the heav'n aboon our head,

She canna be like mine.
O her cheek's like the rosy glow
!

That maks the bvirdies chirl

Her ee is like the lightning's lowe
That gars the heartstrings dirl.

Her the cherries twin,

lips are like
That grow ujton ae shank;
—
Her breath it beats the simmer win'
1' the lowne o' a llow'ry bank.

Her neck is like the siller stoiir

That bowses frae the linn
— O,
;

Her breast its a lily bower,

That ane wad fain lie in '.

Awa', awa', ye wooer youth,

Yours may be fair and fine
But, by the heav'n aboon our head.
She canna be like mine."
As a modern
Scottish poet, Ainslie only stands second to Burns in
his native county others may be inclined to dispute his pretensions
; ;

if so, we would be glad to be favoured with their names. It is our

firm opinion, that were the circle enlarged so as to embrace all the
counties in Scotland, where, we would ask, is the living bai'd to be
found to match Hew
Ainslie?*
The Carle of Kellyhurn Braes. The Editor contents himself with
remarking, that " Burns is said to be the author of Kellyhurn Braes.
The overcome is old ;" but there is no doubt whatever that Burns
founded it on an old ballad. This was just such a subject as the poet
loved to handle, and, in depicting the wicked shrew of the " auld Carle,"
he gave full swing to his witty and humorous fancy. Mr Cromek, in
his " Remains of Nitlisdale and Galloway song," published what he
called the " Original of Burns's Carle of Kellyburn Braes," consisting
of sixteen verses, and difiering in almost every stanza from that sent
by Burns to Johnson's Musical Museum. This questionable version
is now admitted to have been furnished by Allan Cunningham. It is
almost needless to observe, that the wicked wit, in this new version, is
not heightened, nor the humour improved. An English version of this
ballad appeared in No. LXII. of the Percy Society's publications, en-
titled " Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs, of the Peasantry of Eng-
land." Of this song, " The Farmer's old Wife a Sussex whistling —
song," the editor (J. H. Dixon) says, " It is vei-y ancient." If so, it
must be the original of Burns's song, as several of the lines are almost
.
J

] * The Editor of the " Contemporaries of Burns" observes, that the " Pilgri- >

> mage to the Land of Burns," printed in 1822, "did not escape the observation
j
of i\Ir Robei-t Chambers, who transfei-red three of the poetical pieces to his Col-
( lection of Scottish Songs, published in 1829." We ha\e it from the best autho-
rity, that the three songs above mentioned were pointed out to Mr Chambers
I

\
by a gentleman well versed in Scottish song, who urged Mr Chambers to give
>. them a place in his Collection, which was then going through the press.
;
The information respecting Ainslie, and his original songs, which appeared
in the 2d volume of the " Literary Journal," were furnished by Mr AVelstood, a
shawl manufacturer, who left Edinburgh for America in 1830.
 — — —

the same in both versions. We

think it is not unlikely that Allan
Cunningham may have seen this old song tiied his hand upon it,
and, from the credulity of Cromek, palmed it off upon him as " The
—
original of Burns's Carle of Kellyburn Braes." The similarity be-
tween the three versions is so apparent, that two of them, evidently,
must have sprung from the same stock. few lines from each ver- A
sion, placed in juxtaposition, as Dr Chalmers would say, vrill prove
this. We
shall begin with the version given bv Mr Dixon in the
Percy publications
" There was an old farmer in Sussex did dwell,
And he had a wife as many know well.
Then Satan came to the old man at the plough.
One of your family I must have now.
It not your eldest son that I crave.
is
But your old wife, and she I will have
it is
* * * *
Now Satan has got the auld wife on his 1)ack,
And he lugged her along, like a pedlar's pack.
They trudged away till thev came to his hall gate &c
* * * «-

She spied thirteen imps all dancing in chains,

She up with her pattens, and beat out their brains :"

The characteristic touch of the old shrew, in italics, has been over-
looked in the versions of Burns and Cunningham. Perhaps
the in-
struments of destruction not being peculiarly Scottish, was the occa-
sion of this omission.
The following is from Cromek's Remains, &'c. :

" There was an auld man was handing his plow.

By came the Devil, says, How do you do ?' '

It'sneither your ox, nor your ass that I crave.

But your auld scalding wife, man, and her I miuin ha\e
* * * *
The Devil lie mounted her on liis back,
And awa' like a pedlar he trudged wi' his pack.
He carried her on till he came to h —I's door," &c.
As Burns's version is so well known, it is needless to o-ive any ex-
tracts from it. It differs very little in the introductory
lines from the
specunens we have given above, and takes away all his claims to ori
gmahty, if the version given by Mr Dixon is really ancient, which we
are mchned to believe.* After all, the sparkling "wit, and the rough

* The next song in Mr Dixon's Collection, No. XXV.

p ''11 The Wichet -'

and his Wife," is an English version of " Our Gudeman cam hanie
at e'en " Mr
Dixon cannot give an opinion as to which is the original, but
'•
the Eno-lish set
is of unquestionable antiquity." If the worst set of a song is to be held as
the
original then this English one has high claims. The humour
in it is whoUv de-
stroyed by the incidents being brought in, " by one, by
two, and by three," un-
til at last.

"0:1 went into the chamber, and there for to see,

And there 1 saw three men ."'

After this, it is high time to drop the curtain. The Scots have it.
 liEMARKS.

humour infused into the hitter part of it, could only he supplied by
the master hand of Burns. It seems passiiig strange to us ballad- —
—
mongers as we are, and Mr Dixon must he that in editing so singu-
\

lar a ballad as the " Farmer's old Wife," he should have made no
—
mention of the version published by Crornek, or by far the best of <

—
the three- that sent by Burns to Johnson's " Musical Museum."*
We come, at last, to what ought to have been noticed first the — ',

Introduction. In it we find some intei'esting notices of the modem '

musicians and composers of Ayrshire, viz., John M'Gill, composer of (

the air that goes by his name John Riddel, who composed " Jenny's
;

Bawbee," " Stewarton Lasses," &c. The late Earl of Eglinton, who
was a first-rate player upon the violincello and harp, and composed a j

number of airs, such as the " Ayrshire Lasses," &c. James Tannock, j

I
and last, not least, the celebrated Major Logan all of whom drew a
; \

'/
good bow-hand. \

I
We hope the encouragement given to this work Avill be such as to \

induce the Editor to go on with it. It comes in well as an addition \

to what Burns has done for the lyrical reputation of Carrick, Cun- |

ningham, and Kyle. After all, there may be something selfish lurk- )

',
ing under this, for then we shall have the pleasure of descanting upon
it at large, in the pages of the Ayrshire " News-Letter."
I

[We have copied the foregoing remarks on the First Series of " The \

Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire," in the belief that they will prove in- \

teresting to the reader. They are written in a kindly spirit, and sup- S

ply some editorial deficiencies, for which we heartily thank the author. ;

We, at the same time, do not coincide in all that he has advanced.
With reference to " Old King Cowl," we hold it to be no proof )

against its antiquity, that it cannot be traced, written or printed, far-

ther back than Herd's Collection. It is at best but a " rhyme," easily
retained on the memory and many such, of unquestionable antiquity,
;
J

i —
have only recently been committed to paper the language, as in all
j

oral traditions, being afiected by the existing vernacular.

I

I
We are satisfied that we have been led into a mistalve regarding
the author of " My ain Fireside." It is quite in the strain of Mrs
I

\
—
Hamilton still it is not surprising that collectors should have been
led astray, considering the ambiguous terms in which Cromek has in-
?

; troduced the verses. After the song " — A

Weary Body's blythe
1 —
when the Sun gangs down" the author of which is not stated he
— —
I
says: " The following verses [" My ain Fireside"] contain a kindred
^
sentiment with the preceding. The reader will be curious to see the
same subject treated hy a mere peasant, and by an elegant and ac-
complished living ivriter, Mrs Elizabeth Hamilton, author of The '

—
Cottagers of Glenburnie.' " Now which is Mrs Hamilton's ? Is it " A
Weary Body," or " My ain Fireside" En.]
c —
I * Cromek, in making inquiries at Mrs Burns what the Poet had done for a
—
number of old songs in the Musical Museum says, " when she came to the Carle
"'
of Kellyhurn Braes, she said, He (Burns) ga^e this one a terrible hrushing.'
'

Alhm Cunningham affirms that the lltli and 12th stanzas are whollj' ))y Burns.
We -will take it upon us to aflirm that stanzas 6th, 7th, 12th, 14th, and' ]5th, of
the version in " Cromek's Remains," were wholly written by Mr Cunningham.
 CONTENTS
<

Paob. i

]
The Fairy Lady of Dunure, ... ... ... ... 17 1

The AVarlock Laird of Fail, ... ... ... ... 29;

j
Prestwick Drum, ... ... ... ... ... 35 ',

\ Hardyknute, ... ... ... ... ... 38 s

< Carrick for a Man, .. ... ... ... ... 49 !

Daniel Barr, ... ... ... ... ... 52 I

" Scoffing Ballad," ... ... ... ... ... 54

|
I

j
It's a Waefn' Thing this Drink Gudeman, ... ... 58 !

< The Sang o' the Spindle, ... ... ... ... ... 59 1

\
The Auld Kirkyard, ... ... ... ... 62!
The Crook and Plaid, ... ... ... ... ... 63 >

\ When I upon thy Bosom lean, ... ... ... ... 66 |

s Sir Arthur and Lady Anne, ... ... ... ... 71 >

\ My Auld Uncle Watty, .. ... ... ... 74!

\ The Beds of Sweet Roses, ... ... ... ... 75 I

My Lady's Ctowu, there's Gairs upon't, ... ... ... 76 ;

Jamie Tamson, ... ... ... ... ... 77 >

Na to be Marreit Ava, ... ... ... ... 82

The Ayrshire Laddie, ... ... ... ... ... 84 \

There's nae Bard to charm us now, ... ... ... 86

Naebody will let the Auld Bachelor a-be, ... ... ... 89 S

Drucken Jock, ... ... ... ... ... 90 !

O Nature Lavished on my Love, ... ... ... ... 92 I

Tam o' the Down, ... ... ... ... ... 94 \

The Hills of Galloway, ... ... ... ... ... 99 i

Song, ... ... ... ... ... ... 101

j

Song, ... ... ... ... ... ... 102 1

Rural Liberty, ... ... ... ... ... 103

The Laird o' Changue, ... ... ... ... ... 105 >

What Bird in Beauty, Flight, or Song, ... ... ... 116 \

APPENDIX.
Jolin Paterson's Mare, ... ... ... ... ... 119 {

" Scoffing Ballad," ... ... ... ... ... 126 J

 ; — ;

BALLADS AND SONGS

OF AYKSHIRE.

'^\it jpairg HaUj) of IBunurc.

Now listen my lay of Sir Ewart de Gaire,

Who lived on the grey Carrick shore ;

And, true to remembrances treasured with care,

I'll sing you a legend as worthy and rare.

As bard ever sung you before.

Sir Ewart a blood of the purest could trace.

Through knights and through ladies right fair

But time and misfortune had narrow'd his race.

Till he, the sole heir to his name and the place.
Was left their decay to repaii-.

His castle stood lone, where the sea-birds flock.

And the stonns of the ocean rave.

And long it had battl'd their stonniest shock,
With its top in the clouds, and its base on a rock
That was wash'd by the wild sea wave.

And broad were the lands of Sir Ewart de Gairc,

And many the vassals he own'd
And high was his spirit, and noble his air
No youth more deserving, no gallant more fair,
In all the west country was found.

17
 ; ; —

THE FAIRY LADY OF DUNURE,

And many young maidens, the first in the land,

For his love unaffectedly sigh'd

And his dear Lady Mother, with gentle command,

Would urge him to give to some lady his hand.
And be happy before that she died.

" There's fail- May Colzean," she would thoughtfully say,

And Kilhenzie's young heiress, I'm sure
There's Rosa of Turnberi-y, noble and gay.
And the rich Abbot's niece, so complete at display,
Would all gladly be bride to Dunure.

" 0, think if your long-honour'd name should go down.

And De Gaire be extinguish'd in thee,
How the souls of thy fathers with anger would frown,
And my dear hapless Ewart indignant disown,
In that place where their great spirits be."

To this young De Gaire with a smile would reply,

And remove to his chamber alone ;

For he had not yet felt that deep, heart -heaving sigh
That longing intense for the dear, tender tie

That binds the whole bosom to one.

'Twas once when he thus from his mother had gone.

On a sober and sweet summer e'en,

While the sun's setting rays on the broad ocean shone,

That he stood by his window all pensive and lone,
And gaz'd on the beautiful scene.

And lo! a young lady, enchantingly fiiir.

Rose suddenly full in his view;

In the bright shining track of the sun's setting glare,
She walk'd the smooth water as light as the air,
And nearer and nearer him drew.

Her robe was the soft mellow blue of the sky,

Bestudded with star-drops of gold;

18
 ; ——

THE FAIllY LADY OF DUNURE.

Her scarf of a beautiful violet die,

And her girdle of pearl had a lustre so high
That it dazzl'd the eye to behold.

On her little white foot a slight sandal was bound,

With a binding of scarlet and green
And her step was so graceful, without any sound
And her leg had the prettiest tapering round
That ever his eyes had seen.

And he gaz'd on her person, so airy and light,

With a mix'd admiration and awe;
And her large hazel eyes look'd so winning and bright,
And her bosom and neck were so lovely and white.
That he could not his eyes withdraw.

And onward she came till she stood on the sand,

At the base of the castle so high.
And kissing and waving her fair lily hand,
She look'd up to the Knight with a smile so bland,
That he utter'd a deep, deep sigh.

And the heart in his bosom all flutter'd and glow'd.

For he ne'er such a beauty had seen
Yet her walking the water seem'd wondrous odd,
And the tresses around her fair temples that flow'd.
Were a beautiful light sea-gi'een.

But yet they were glossy and finely disposed.

And did suit her complexion so well,

That had they been other, her beauty had lost

And the fillet that bound them was richly embossed

With figures in coral and shell.

And the Lady look'd up, and Sh- Ewart look'd down,
Till her glances o'ermaster'd him so,

That, though gallant as Ctesar, he blush'd like a clown.

And he felt that his heart was no longer his own,
But away to the Lady below.

19
 ; ;

THE FAIRY LADY OF DUNURE.

" Then, -vvilt thou go with me, Sir Ewart," she cried,
" A lone lady's guardian to be?"
" I will, my fair Lady," Sir Ewart replied.

And ere the next moment he stood by her side,

At the edge of the deep salt sea.

Yet he knew not at all in what way he had gone,

For he op'd neither window nor door;
But there they were walking so sweetly alone,

And they talk'd, and her voice hatl the chaimingest tone
That his ear ever heard before.

And they talk'd of the joys that with lovers abide,

And the spirit that true lovers breathe,
When all on a sudden the sea open'd wide,
And down they were borne thro' the deep yawning tide,

To a world of delights beneath.

There skies the most lovely, far brighter than ours.

In summer's most luscious prime;
And fine verdant meadows bespankled with flowers,
And streams clear as amber, and fair rosy bowers,
Enrich'd a most genial chme.

And they enter'd a grove wherein ripe fruits gi"ew,

On trees still in gorgeous bloom
And the prettiest insects around them flew.
And the song-birds sung melodies touching and new.
And the au- had the rarest perfume.

" Now, this is my home," the fair Lady did say,

" And the haunt of my childhood dear:"
And Sir Ewart look'd up, and lo, straight in his way,
A castle of ivory, splendid and gay,
Rose towering and ample, and near.

Its figure was round, and of crystal its dome.

With a balcony all of bright gold

20
 ; ; ;

THE FAIIIY LADY OF DUNURE.

And there twenty damsels all sportingly roam,

And there twenty gentlemen suddenly come,
And with them gay dalliance hold.

" Ah, see, on that balcony brilliant and high,

My dear kin," the fair Lady did say;
But just as Sir Ewart essay'd a r^ly.
The troop that so lightsomely danc'd in his eye.
All instantly vanish'd away.

Bewilder'd he stood, and on vacancy gaz'd,

Whilst the Lady good-humouredly smil'd
Then tuni'd he to chide, but her beauty so blaz'd
That he dropt on his knee, and in ecstacy prais'd

Those chamis that his heart had beguil'd.

But just in the midst of his rapturous theme,

A burst of gay music arose.

All joyous and light, as a young fairy's dream.

And sweet as the mui-mur of Helicon's stream,
When the muses upon it repose.

Up gallant Sir Ewart then hastily sprung,

Yet players not one could be seen
But the air seem'd alive, and with melody rung,
And twenty young couples, like jewel' ry strung,
Danc'd round them in glee on the green.

And round the young Knight and the Lady so fair,

Right happy and merry danc'd they
And chanting betimes as they tripp'd to the air,

They sung their sweet Queen, and Sir Ewart de Gaire

Who from earth she had conjur'd away.

" And away, and away, and away," sang they,

" All so merrily round the ring,

We will dance, and we'll sing and rejoice to-day.

And Oruna, our Queen, all our hearts shall sway,
And Sir Ewart shall be our Kinsr.

21
 ; ; —

THE FAIRY LADY OF DUNURE.

"He has left the dull earth to old grandmother Care,

O so merrily round go we
He has left the dull earth to old grandmother Care,
With the fairies to dance, with the fairies to fare,
All under the deep green sea."

And around, and aroi^d, and around, they flew,

So rapid that nothing was seen
But a whirling rim of a dazzling hue,
And the brain of Sir Ewart spun round at the view,
And he held by the Fairy Queen.

But whiff ! and away ! and the very next breath

They are plac'd in the fairy hall,
All settled, and sober, and silent as death.
Upon sofas o'erspread with a silken heath,
Arrang'd round the ivory wall.

And one was exalted, more splendid by far.

For De Gaire and his fairy bride

And nothing on earth with her beauty could par,

As she sat there and shone, like a new-boni star.
On the happy Knight by her side.

And she waved her hand, and a table was spread

AVith rare fruits of a thousand kinds.
Which leapt to tliei hand as the company fed
With a wish they came forth, with a wish they fled,

As the company chang'd their minds.

And a sparkling liquor went round and round.

Till they all got mellow and gay,
When a note was heard of a startling sound,
And the bright, airy beings sprung up with a bound.
And instantly vanish'd away.

And Sir Ewart beheld till the whole were gone,

Save himself and his own sweet queen;

22
 ; —

THE FAIEY LADY OF DUNURE.

And he felt so rejoic'd they were left alone,

That the night flew away, and the morning shone,

As if never a night had been.

Then all the blight beings assembled anew,

In fresh robes of their hunting green
And two riderless steeds of a milk-white hue.
With rich golden trappings all sparkhng and new,
Came bounding, and neigh'd to be seen.

So the Knight and his Lady are mounted at once

On this bounding and beautiful pair;
Then hounds all uncoupled and eager advance,
And away the whole cavalcade shoot with a glance,
And fly through the soft yielding air.

But not to destroy, hke the Ximrods of earth,

Those fleet skimming hunters proceed;
But all for amusement, good humour and mirth
For the roe, when they near it, they let it fly forth.

And another starts up in its stead.

O'er fields of fresh verdure, and flowers of fresh die,

And rivers of sweet-scented dew.
Tantivy ! tantivy ! the shout, and they fly.

And return to the palace as noon waxeth nigh,

Other fetes and delights to renew.

Thus, hunting and dancing, and loving by turns,

Months pleasant and rapid flew by;
Yet the heart of our Knight oft to Canick returns,
Till weary at last, and repining, he mourns
For Dunure and his own cloudy sky.

And one fine lovely night, as unconscious he sigh'd.

While he walk'd with his Lady alone,
" 0, the home of my fathers !" he longingly cried,

And ere ever his words on the echoes had died.

They both stood on his own hearth-stone.

23
 ! ! ! ; ;

And his dear Lady Mother fell down with affnght,

To see him so sudden appear;
And all the domestics danc'd wild with delight,
And the old castle walls rang the whole of the night
"With " Sir Ewart, Sir Ewart is here!"

The news over Carrick like wildfire flew,

And the gentry of every degree,

As soon as the wonderful story they knew,
Declar'd that in justice a visit was due,
And set off" to Dunure to see.

And such complimenting, congee, and finesse.

Now welcom'd the fair lady home
The ladies admir'd her jewels and dress,
Though some well-meaning dames were afraid such excess
Would speak out yet in time to come.

Then her tresses of green how they ! titter'd and star'd

At a thing so prodigiously queer

And an old maiden aunt in a whisper declar'd.
That she wonder'd indeed how the Knight ever dar'd
With a creature so strange to appear

But an eye of bright fire flash'd full in her fa«e,

And her whispers soon brought to an end

So she made her congee full of manners and grace,
With, " Dear Lady de Gaire, let me trust you will place

Me down as your very best friend."

And all parties, too, complimented the Knight

As the luckiest knight that could be,
Possessing a lady all love and delight.

So pretty, so witty, so clever, so tight.

And no doubt of a high pedigree.

" 'Tis ancient, no doubt," would Sir Ewart reply.

But the ne'er a word more would he say

24
 ——
;

But add, by a time, a slight blush and a sigh,

And his dear Lady Mother, whene'er she was by,

Would conclude with a sad " Well-a-day!"

For her daughter, with pain she already had found,

Had ways that she scarce durst declare
Her form had no shadow, her step had no sound.
Her clothes rustled not as she swept o'er the ground,
And her breath was not seen on the air.

A church nor a sabbath she could not abide,

Nor the mention of sennon nor prayer;
And whenever she heard the old bell of Kirkbride,
She would tremble, and creep to some old lady's side.

Or vanish, no one could say where.

And whenever the Knight from the castle went forth,

Her apartments all instantly swarm'd
With beings, all buzzing in riot and mirth.
And music and laughter, and song not of earth,
Wliich the neighbourhood satlly alarm'd.

And whatever Sir Ewart but wish'd to possess,

Was his without farther ado;

The steeds she procur'd him were first in the race.

His beautiful hounds were unmatch'd in the chace,
And his hawks were the swiftest that flew.

When he wish'd for a boat, on the shore it was cast.

Well rigg'd from the stem to the bow

And still as he vrish'd stood the tide and the blast —
Yet his wishing, alas ! was his ruin at last.

And I'll tell you the way just now.

He wish'd for an heir, and the very next morn

A sweet boy in his bosom lay.
Whom his latly declar'd she had newly born
And all o'er the country, with herald and horn.
Flew the tidings that veiy same day.

D 25
 ; •

THE FAIRY LADY OF DUNURE.

And a christening follow'd, so great and so grand

That the like ne'er was seen any where —
For thither were gather'd the best in the land,
And the Abbot of Crosraguel Abbey's own hand
Was to sprinkle Sir Ewart's young heir.

So, SirEwart stood forth with the lady and child.

As the Catholic ritual enjoin'd;

And the Abbot began — ^but the babe grew so wild.
And the lady so strange, and so bitterly smil'd.
That he trembled with fear and declin'd.

The Abbot declin'd the young imp to baptize,

And the people seem'd ready to flee,

When laughter and mockery, and eldrich cries.

Through the whole of the castle were heard to arise,

From beings no mortal could see.

Now terror arose to a terrible height,

And the best of the gentlemen quak'd;
The ladies all scream'd, and some fainted outright,

And Sir Ewart's old mother, with shame and affright.

Fell senseless, and never awak'd.

But the Abbot took heart, and advancing anew

To this wonderful mother and child,
The baptismal water fair o'er them he threw,
"Wlien away in a stream of blue vapour they flew,
With a sound the most frightful and wild.

Now Sir Ewart do Gairc, sadly sorrowing, sigh'd,

For he felt all his comforts were flown
And shortly thereafter from Scotland he hied.
And away in some far foreign country he died.
Bequeathing Dunurc to the Crown.

This very interesting and well-written ballad is by Mr Lennox, Su-

perintendent of the Poor in Ayr, a contributor to the fonnor series.

26
 ; ; — —

THE FAIRY LADY OF DUNURE.

It is founded on a Carrick legend, and refers to times long gone by.

From the rocky nature of the Carrick coast — its numerous little bays,
caves, and indentations — it wiis held, in superstitious times, to be a
favourite haunt of the fairy genii. The coves of Culzean* — like the
cave on the Dusk, in Dairy parish —^were regarded as " Elfame"
the home of the elves or fairies. Burns, in his well-known poem of
" Halloween," alludes to this popular belief, when he says
" Upon tliat niclit, when fairies licht
On Cassillis Dowiiansl dance.
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance
Or for Colean the roxit is ta'en.
Beneath the moon's pale beams
There, up the Cove,:!: to stray an' rove,
Amang the rocts and streams
To sport that nicht."

In his " Tam o' Slianter," the Poet also refers to Carrick as a noted
resort of witches. Describing " Cutty Sark," he says
" But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie,
'
There was ae winsome wench an' waulie,'
That nicht enlisted in the core,
(Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore,
For mony a beast to dead she shot,
An' perish'd mony a bonnie boat.
An' shook baith nieikle corn an' bear.
An' kept the country-side in fear.")

In a note to the ballad, the author says, " Let those who are chrono-
logically ci-itical, look for the time of this event [the marriage of Sir
Ewax-t de Gaire] in the reign previous to the invasion of Acho, king
of the Norwegians." In thus carrying back the era of the legend
Mr Lennox did well —because the possession of Dunure by the Ken-
nedies, ancestors of the Marquis of Ailsa, can be traced as far back
nearly as the battle of the Largs. Indeed, the author of the " His-
torie of the Kennedyis " assigns the origin of the ftimily to that event.

According to his statement, the stronghold of Dunure was then pos-

sessed by the Danes. After the battle of Largs, on Acho's retreating,
he was pursued by M'Kinnon of the Isles and his sons, who, finding

* Culzean was originally called the Coif, or Cove.

t Certain little, romantic, rocky, green hills, in the neighbourhood of the an-
— R. B.
_

cient seat of the Earl of Cassillis. (They are in Kirkmichael parish,

near the banks of the Doon. On the highest of them are the remains of a
British fortlet.)

J A noted cavern near Colean — hence called the Cove of Colean: which, as
well as Cassillis Downans, is famed in country story for being a fa\ourite haunt
—
of fairies. R. B.

27
 THE FAIRY LADY OF DUNURE.

that he had taken shelter in the Castle of Ayr, pressed forward to

Dunure, in pursuit of one of his great captains, and there captured
both him and the fort. For this service Alexander III. rewarded
M'Kinnon by a grant of the castle, and certain lands around it. The
following is this writer's account of the affair : —
" The Black Book of Scone sets their (the Kennedies) beginning to be in the
reign of King Malcolm the Second, who was crowned in the year of God 1010
years, and was the fourscore King of Scotland. There was with the King, one
M'Keuane of the Isles, who was slain by Danes at the battle of Murluk and ;

of him came the M'Kenane of the Isles, who bruikis (possesses) the hinds of
'
'

Stroworddell to this hour. This M'Kenane of the Isles' succession was at the
time of King Donald's reign, when the Danes got possession of the whole Isles,
banished by them in Ireland, where he remained to the reign of King Alexan-
der the Third, and then came to King Alexander before the battle of Largs,
with threescore of his name and servants and after that King Acho was de-
;

feated, he fled to Ayr, and there took shipping. The principal man that pur-
sued him was M'Kenane, with his two sons and after that the King of Danes
;

was received in the Castle of Ayr, M'Kenane followed on a Lord or great Cap-
tain of the Danes, to a crag in Carrick, whereon there was a strength built by
the Danes, low by the sea side the which strength M'Kenane and his sons
:

took, and slew the captain and all that v^as therein. For the which deed, this
AI'Kenane got the same strength from King Alexander, with certain lands ly-
ing thereto; the which he gave to his second son, and there was the first be-
ginning of the name of Kennedy in the mainland. On the strength and crag i

there is now a fair castle, which the chiefs of the lowland Kennedies took their J

style of, for a long space, and were called Lairds of Dunure, because of the ?

don of the hiU above that house. Of this house the rest of that name are ?

coming." \

This alleged origin of the Kennedies is considered fabulous, the name \

having been known in Carrick previous to the battle of Largs, which |

was fought in 1263. In " Wood's Peerage," the descent of the fami-
ly is traced back to Duncan de Carrick, in the reign of Malcolm IV.,
Carrick or Kennedy, as it is said, being the patronymic indiscrimin-
ately used down to the time of Sir John Kennedy of Dunure, found-
er of the collegiate church in Maybole, and who obtained the lands
and barony of Cassillis from Marjorie, heiress of Sir John Montgo-
merie. Knight, of Stair. This occurred about 1373. It is seldom,
however, that tradition is totally at variance with fact. The simi-
larity in the ancient armorial bearings is presumptive that the island
and mainland Kennedies were of the same stock. In the Highlands
there are several small clans of the name of Kennedy —in Gaelic, M'Ur-
ick or M'Rorie —and it is rather a striking coincidence that the isolat-
ed conical mount on which the flag-staiT is erected at Dunure, near
the mouth of the haibour, is called Port-Rorie, evidently meaning the
port of M'Rorie or Kennedy.
The Abbey of Crosraguel was founded in 1244 or 1245 —so the
28
 THE WARLOCK LAIRD OF FAIL.

Abbot for the time being is correctly enough introduced as officiating

at the baptism of " Sir Ewart's young heir." Dunure Castle is still

a prominent feature in the scenery of Dunure. It occupies a rocky

eminence which bounds the village on the west. It is now a total
ruin — 'the north wall, towards the sea, being alone in some measure
entire. It appears to have consisted originally of one irregular tower
of four stories, besides the ground floor, or keep. The form of the
building, which presents various angles, seems to have been dictated
entirely by the shape of the rock —the precipitousness of which, lash-
ed by the sea, formed a complete barrier against any assault in that
direction —while a deep moat and strong wall gave protection on the
land side. A range of buildings, running back towards the south, is

apparently of later erection. The main entrance must have been by

the eastern front, where the doorway, with openings into the vaulted
apartments on the ground floor, as well as the stair leading to the
upper rooms, are still traceable. The walls are extremely thick —in
some instances upwards of fifteen feet —and so firmly cemented that
portions of them that have fallen down are scarcely distinguishable
from the masses of solid rock which, upheaved by some mighty con-
vulsion of nature, lie scattered about like the guardian genii of the
venerable stronghold. Of the erection of the Castle there is no re-

cord. The name is Celtic, Dunure, or Dunoure, signifying the hill,

or fort of the yew tree. According to the author of the " Historie of
the Kennedyis," the foit was originally possessed by the Danes.

®!)c SSaailodi Haiitr of jpail.

As Craigie's Knight was a hunting one day,

Along with the Laird of Fail,

They came to a house, where the gudowife she

Was brcwin:; the shearers' ale.

29
 ; ; ;

Sir Thomas* alighted at the door

Before the Laii-d of Fail,
" And will ye gie me, guidwife," quo' he,
" A drink of your shearers' ale?"

" I will gie thee. Sir Thomas," quo' she,

" A drink o' my shearers' ale

But gude be here, how I sweat with fear.

!"
At sight of the Laird of Fail

" What sees auld lucky the Laird about

That may not be seen on me ?

His beard so long, so bushy and strong.
!"
Sure need not affrighten thee

*'
Though all his face were covcr'd with hair,

It never would daunton me

But young and old have oft heard it told,

That a warlock wight is he.

" He caused the death of my braw milk cow.

And did not his blasting e'e
Bewitch my bairn, cowp many a kim.
And gaur my auld doggie die ?"'

Sir Thomas came out and told the Laird

The gudewife's tremour within
" Now Laird," said he, " that sport we may sec.

Come put in the merry pin."

" If ye want sport. Sir Thomas," quo' he,

" I wat ye's no want it long;

This crusty gudewifc, upon my life.

Shall gie us a dance and a song."

He put then a pin aboon the door,

And said some mysterious thing;

* Sir Hugh it probably ought to have been.

30
 : ;

THE WARLOCK LAIRD OF FAIL.

And instantly the auld woman she

Began to dance and to sing —
" O
good Sir Thomas of Craigie tak'
The warlock Laird of Fail
Awa' frae me, for he never shall pree
A drap of our shearers' ale!"

The Laird he cried on the auld gudeman,

And sought a drink o' his beer;
" Atweel," quo' he, " kind sir, you shall be
Welcome to all that is here."

But just as he passed under the pin,

He roar'd out " Warlock Fail,
Awa' frae me, for you never shall pree
A drap of our shearers' ale !"

And aye as the canty shearers they

Were coming hame to their kale.
The Laird and Knight from every wight
Sought some of the dinner ale.

" Ye's get the last drap in a' the house,"

They cried as they hurried in

But every one at once began
As passing under the pin

" O
good Sir Thomas of Craigie, tak"
The warlock Laird of Fail
Awa' frae mc, for he never shall pree
A drap of my dinner ale!"

And they would have sung the same till yet.

Had not the old Laird of Fail
Drawn out the pin, before he went in,
To drink of the shearers' ale.

^m
 —

THE WARLOCK LAIRD OF FAIL.

The Laird of Fail may be considered the Sir Michael Scot of Ayr-
shire. His fame, however, lacks the pei-petuating influence of that
genius which has conspired to hand down the exploits of the latter to
posterity. Yet tradition has not ceased to narrate his wondrous
deeds; and superstition, listening with ready ear, still lingers by the
grey walls where once the Warlock dwelt. Nor has his claims to

distinction been altogether forgotten by the bardic race, as the fore-

going ballad testifies. It is taken from " Strains of the Mountain

Muse," by Mr Train, published in 1814. The humour of the poet is
scarcely so graphic as the story warrants. The dancing of the old
woman and the band of shearers, as, on entering, one by one, they
seized each other by the skirts, was performed round the fire, which
in those days invariably stood in the middle of the floor. When the
" meriy pin" came to be withdrawn, the circle of peasant dervishes,
especially the old woman, were truly in a " melting mood," and so
thoroughly exhausted that the moment the spell was gone they fell

prostrate on the floor. A similar feat is told of Sir Michael Scot, in

a note to the " Lay of the Last Minstrel," and no doubt both are
equally tvell founded ; but so far is tradition in favour of the Ayr-
shire wizard's claim to originality, that we have heard the name of
the farm condescended upon, and its locality pointed out, though we
cannot recollect either.
There are many other cantrips related of the Laird; but Avho the
wonder-working personage really was, tradition sayeth not, though he
\
must have existed no longer ago than the seventeenth century. Fail
',
Castle, of which he is believed to have been the last inhabitant, form-
; ed originally a portion of the Monastery of Fail, founded in 1252.
It is situated about a mile from Tarbolton, at the head of one of the
I

\ most extensive meadows in the county. A single dilapidated corner of

the tower alone remains to indicate the situation. The establishment

I
belonged to the Red Friars, who were also called Fratres de Redcmp-
tione Captivorum, it being part of their duty to redeem captives from
slavery. The head of the convent was styled minister, and, as pro-
vincial of the Trinity Order in Scotland, had a seat in Parliament.
The monks wore a white habit, with a red and blue cross upon the
shoulder. They were fond of good cheer, and, if the old rhyme may
be trusted, were not scrupulous as to the mode of obtaining it:

1 32
 ;

THE WARLOCK LAIKD OF FAIL.

" The Friars of Fail

Get never ovrrc hard eggs, or owre thin kale
For they made their eggs thin wi' butter,
And their kale thick wi' bread.
And the Friars of Fail they made gude kale
On Fridays when they fasted :

And they never wanted geir enough

As lang as their neighbours' lasted."

Fail monastery continued to be a place of considerable importance

I
for nearly three centuries, until the Reformation, when it experienced
the fate of the other religious houses in Scotland. In 1565, Robert
I

Cuninghame, minister of Fail, granted a charter conveying the lands

I

i of Brownhill, and the farms of the Fail estate, to J. Cuninghame,

I
Esq. of Brownhill, ancestor of the present proprietor. As farther il-

( lustrative of the declining authority of the fraternity, it is mentioned

> in a rental of the revenue of Fail, given in 1562, that of twenty-
six merks yearly due by the Laird of Lament, " he had not paid one
penny for six years."*

I
The successor of Robert Cuninghame was William Wallace, bro-
\ ther of Sir Hugh of Craigie, in which family the patronage of Fail

I
was probably at the time invested. He died in 1617. His son, Wil-
s Ham Wallace, who appears to have considered himself owner of the

Ircuiaining property of the monastery, was served heir to his father,

" William Wallace, minister of Failford," in the manor place of the

monastery of Failford, and the gardens called West Yaird, Neltoun

Yaird, Gardine Yaird, Yeister Yaii'd, and Kirk Yaird. t In August
1619, however, a grant of the monastery was made to Walter Whyte-
ford, which grant was subsequently ratified by Parliament in 1621. ?

From this it would appear that the claim of William WallaceJ had
been set aside, and that AVhytcford became the pi'oprietor. || As a j

layman, he was designated, in the common phraseology of the time, ;'

the Laird of Fail ; and no subsequent owner being known by that \

appellation, the presumption is that he was the identical Warlock

i
\

j
* At this period " twa puir men " lived in the convent, who had £22 Scots |

( yearly for their subsistence. j

t Retour No. 162, April 22, 1617. |

I William AVallace was served heir in 1630 to the lands of Smythston, Lady-
<

yard, Adamcroft, and Little Auchcnweet, with the salmon fishings in the water '.

of Ayr. (Retour No. 271, Dec. 23, 1630.) !

II
The immunities derivable from the mon.astery subsequcnth' fell into the {

hands of the Dundcmald family. In 1690, William, Earl of Dundonald, was i

served heir to his father, John Earl of Dundonald, in the benetice of Failford,
as well temporality as sprituality.

33
 —

THE WARLOCK LAIRD OF FAIL.

He had been educated abroad, and was altogether eccentric

both in his habits and appearance. As described in Mr Train's bal-
lad, he wore a long beard, and was frequently heard to utter un-
known words. He resided, in the midst of the deserted cells of the

monks, in the old manor-house, or superior's residence, usually called

the Castle, then in a state of dilapidation. The belief in his super-

natural powers was by no means astonishing at a period when witch-

craft gained such general credit. The surprise is that he escaped the
torture and the stake. Though believed to possess an evil eye, and
to have the faculty of charming milk from cows, butter from the
chum, cheese from the dairy tub ; and to be able not only to foi'etell
|

future events, but to control human actions —spreading disease and |

death among men and cattle by the simple exercise of his will —yet j

the disposition of the Laird does not appear to have been wantonly
malicious. Judging from the stories told of him, he seems to have \

had a strong relish of the humorous, and to have exerted his magical
^

influence chiefly for the amusement of his acquaintances. One day, \

a man leading an ass, laden with crockery ware, happened to pass the s

Castle. The Laird, who had a friend with him, oftered for a wager |

to make the man break his little stock in pieces. The bet was taken, s

and immediately the earthenware dealer, stopping and unloading the \

ass, smashed the whole into fragments. When asked why he acted
|

so foolishly, he declared he saw the head of a large black dog growl-

ing out of each of the dishes ready to devour him. The spot where
this is said to have occurred is still called " Pig's Bush." On another
occasion, the Laird looked out at the upper south window of the
Castle. There was in sight twenty going ploughs. He undertook
upon a large wager to make them all stand still. Momentarily eigh-
teen of them — ploughs, ploughmen, horses, and gadmen stood mo- —
tionless. Two, however, continued at work. One of them was
ploughing the Tarbolton Croft. It was found out afterwards that
these two ploughs carried each a piece of rowan tree —mountain ash
— ^proverbial for its anti-warlock properties

" Rowan-tree and red thread

Keep the devils frae their speed."

In what year the death of the Warlock Laird took place is un-
known ; but circumstances lead us to believe that it must have been

34
 ;

PRESTWICK DRUM.

near the close of the seventeenth century. When about to depart

he warned those around him not to remain in the Castle after
his
body was carried out and it being autumn, he further recommended
;

them not to bury him until the

hai-vest should be completed because ;

on the day of interment a fearful stonn would ensue. He

his
was
accordingly kept as long as the putrid state of his remains
admitted ;

still the harvest was not above half finished.True as the Lau-d's
prediction, the moment the body, on the funeral day, had
cleared the
—
doorway, a loud crash was heard the Castle roof had fallen in.
The
wind rose with unexampled fury the sheafs of corn were
;
scattered
like chaff, and much damage was sustained over the land.

^rcsttoicfe Brum.
Air—" Aiken Drum," very ancient and peculiar to Scotland.

At Gloamin' grey.
The close o' day.

When saftly sinks the ^illage hum,

Nor far nor near.
Nought meets the ear.
But, aiblins, Prest'ick drum.
Nae bluidy battle it betides,
Nor sack, nor siege, nor aught besides
Twa guid sheep skins, wl' oaken sides,
An' leather lugs aroun'.

In days o' yore.

When to our shore,
For aid the gallant Bruce did come.
His lieges leal,

Did tak' the fiel',

An' march'd to Prest'ick drum.

Gude service aften is forgot,
An' favour's won by crafty plot.

35
 PRESTWICK DRUM.

An' sic, alas ! has been the lot

O' Prest'ick ancient drum.

These lines, which possess much of the simplicity of ancient times,

appeard in the Ayr and Wigtonshire Courier upwards of twenty-
years ago. however, do not know the authoi-. The following
We,
note was appended to them :
—
" The original charter of Prestwick is

now lost, hut is referred to in the renewed grant by James VI. of

Scotland. Bruce having at first been unsuccessful, after passing some
time in exile, re-appeared in Arran, and crossing the Frith, landed on
Prestwick shore, where the inhabitants joined his standard in consi-
derable force ; for which service the king was pleased to erect their
town into a barony, with a jurisdiction extending from the water of
|

Ayr to the water of Ir\ane." >

It is a popular belief, both among the freemen of Prestwick and the \

freemen of Newton-upon-Ayr, that they obtained their privileges from |

Robert the Bruce, in consequence of their services during the war of :;

independence. Thei-e may be some foundation for this belief; but, in

^

the case of Prestwick at least, it is certain that the right of jurisdic- I

diction, alluded to in the foregoing note, was conferred before the ^

days of Bruce. " The charter of James VI., in 1600, would can-y
it back to the reign of Kenneth III., but there is no probability that
these pretensions rested on any authority other than vague tradi- \

tion, and the puerile taste with which this prince ever sought to >

array himself in the visionai-y plumes of febulous antiquity. The fa-

|

mily of Stewart, whose origin has been traced to an Anglo-Norman

|

descent, obtained possession of this division of Kyle, which has ever

|

since been contradistinguished by the addition of their name,* j

about the middle of the twelfth century ; and it is not improbable

|

that its erection into a burgh may have been consequent on such se- i

paration of the bailiwick. It is at least pretty certain, that from

|

about this time the burgh of Piestwick became the juridical seat of |

the barony or bailiwick of Kyle- Stewart, whilst the burgh of Ayi-

remained as the seat of authority in that of Kyle-Regis, certainly the \

residuary portion of the original district. From the time of Wil- •>

* Kyle-Stewart.

36
 ;

PRESTWICK DRUM,

liam I., the church and burgh of Prestwick are frequently to be

met with in authentic record. The two churches of Prestwick (after-
wards Monkton) and Prestwick-burgh, the first dedicated to St Cuth-
bert, the latter to St Nicholas, were annexed to the monasteiy of

Paisley by Walter, the founder, on the erection of that institution

and both remained dependencies thereto down to the termination of
the hierarchy, in the year 1560. Some time subsequent to this event,
Monkton and Prestwick, together with the small parish of Crosbie, <

were united into one charge, and the minister enjoined to preach al- \

ternately two Sundays at Monkton and the third at Prestwick I

church."* A new church has recently been built, equi-distant from I

both communities, which aftbrds ample accommodation to the whole, j

The old churches of Prestwick and Monkton have been unroofed, and
are now crumbling into ruins. |

" Prestwick is governed by a chancellor or provost, two bailies, <

treasurer, clerk, and other inferior officers, who are all elected an- \

nually except the chancellor, whose appointment is for two or more

years. Their power extends to civil matters for a limited amount,
and to the police of the burgh. "t Pi'estwick is a mere village. The
population is not above 1200. In remote times, the territory of the
burgh may have been much more extensive : the adjoining parish of
Monkton appears to have been anciently of the same denomination,
and no doubt formed a portion of it. They are now again united as
one parish ;
" but the authority of the burgh is limited to its own
proper lands, which extend in all to about 700 acres. Of this pro-
perty, about 150 acres have been feued out, in other words, alienated
and the remaining 550, of which 150 are arable, the rest only fit for
pasture, belong heritably, under peculiar restrictions and regulations,

\ to thirty-six freemen, the number to which, by the constitution of the

burgh, they are restricted. Each share or freedom consists of from \

14 to 16 acres ; seven acres of each being arable —the rest pasture,

\

being what was formerly called common, and consisting of whins and !

heath and sandy bent hills, interspersed with patches of green hol-
lows, principally adapted to the grazing of young cattle." J The burgh {

* Introduction to the " Records of the Burn;h of Prestwick," printed in 1834,

and presented by John Smith of Swindrigemuir to the Maithind Club.
t Prestwick Records. * Ibid.

>

37
 HARDYKNUTE.

and parish of Newton-upon-Ayr were disjoined from Prestwick, and

constituted a separate charge, quoad sacra, in the year 1779. Be-
fore the territorial boundaries of Newton and Prestwick were pro-

perly defined, continued feuds prevailed between the freemen of the

two burghs, and not a few battles were fought in support of their

rights. The Prestwick Drum, recorded in the song, was used as a

sort of curfeiv, formerly common to most towns and callages. The

bag-pipe, however, -v^as the prevailing instrument.

A FRAGMENT.
{From the Original Edition, printed in 1719.)

Stately stept he east the wa',

And stately stept he west.
Full seventy years he now had seen
Wi' scarce seven years of rest.

He liv'd when Britons' breach of faith

Wrought Scotland mickle wae :

And aye his sword tauld to their cost

He was their deadly fae.

High on a hill his castle stood

With ha's and tow'rs a height.
And goodly chambers fair to see.
Where he lodg'd mony a knight.
His dame sae peerless anes and fair

For chast and beauty deem'd,

Nae marrow had in all the land.
Save Elenor the Queen.

38
 ; : :

HARDYKNUTE.

Full thirteen sons to him she bare

All men. of valour stout
In bloody fight with sword in hand
Nine lost their lives but doubt
Four yet remain, lang may they live

To stand by liege and land,

High was their fame, high was their might
And high was their command.

Great love they bare to Fairly fair,

Their sister saft and dear,

He giidle shaw'd hir middle jimp
And gowden glist her hair.
^Vliat waefou wae her beauty bi'ed !

Waefou to young and auld,

Waefou I trow to kyth and kin,

As story ever tauld.

The King of Norse in summer tyde,

Puff 'd up with pow'r and might.
Landed in fair Scotland the isle.

With niony a hardy knight

The tydings to our good Scots king
Came, as he sat at dine,

With noble chiefs in brave array

Drinking the blood-red wine.

" To horse, to horse, my royal liege.

Your faes stand on the strand,
Full twenty thousand glittering spears
The King of Norse commands."
" Bring me my steed. Page, dapple-gray,"

Our good King rose and cry'd,

A trustier beast in all the land

A Scots king never try'd.
'*
Go little Page, tell Hardyknute,
That lives on hill so hie,

39

ip5S
 :

HARDYIvNUTE.

To draw his sword, the dread of faes,

And haste and follow me."

The little Page flew swift as dart,

Flung by his master's arm,

" Come down, come down. Lord Hardyknute,
And rid your king from harm.''

Then red red grew his dark -brown cheeks,

Sae did his dark-brown broAV,
His looks grew keen as they were wont
In danger's gi'eat to do ;

He's ta'en a horn as green as glass,

And gi'en five sounds sae shrill

That trees in green wood shook thereat,

Sac loud rang every hill.

His sons in manly sport and glee.

Had past that summer's morn.

When lo, down in a grassy dale.

They heard they're father's horn.

" That horn," quo' they, " ne'er sounds in peace,

We've other sport to bide ;

And soon they hy'd them up the hill,

And soon were at his side.

" Late, late yestreen, I wcen'd in peace

To end my lengthen'd life,

My age might well excuse my arm

Frae manly feats of strife ;

But now that Norse does proudly boast

Fair Scotland to enthrall,
It's ne'er be said of Hardyknute,
He fear'd to fight or fall.

" Robin of Rothsay, bend thy bow.

Thy arrows shoot sae leel,

IVIony a comely countenance

They've turn'd to deadly pale

40
 ; :

HARDYKNUTE.

Brade Thomas, take you but your lance,

You need nae weapons mair,
If you fight wi't as you did anes
'Gainst Westmoreland's fierce heir.

" Malcolm, light of foot as stag

That runs in forest wild.

Get me my thousands three of men

Well bred to sword and shield
Bring me my horse and harnisine,
My blade of mettal clear."
If faes but ken'd the hand it bare,

They soon had fled for fear.

" Farewell, my dame, sae peerless good,'

And took her by the hand,
" Fairer to me in age you seem,
Than maids for beauty fam'd :

My youngest son shall here remain

To guard these stately towers,
And shut the silver bolt that keeps
Sae fast your painted bowers."

And first she wet her comely cheeks,

And then her boddice green,
Her silken cords of twirtle twist,
Well plett with silver sheen
And apron set with mony a dice
Of needle-wark sae rare.

Wove by nae hand, as ye may guess,

Save that of Fairly fair.

And he has ridden o'er muir and moss,

O'er hills and mony a glen.
When he came to a wounded knight
Making a heavy mane ;

" Here man I lye, here man I dye,

By treacherie's false guiles,

41
 ;

Witless I was that e'er ga' faith

To wicked woman's smiles."

" Sii' knight, gin you were in my bower,

To lean on silken seat.
My lady's kindly care you'd prove,
Who ne'er knew deadly hate ;

Herself would watch you a' the day.

Her maids a' dead of night
And Fairly fair your heart would cheer,
As she stands in your sight."

Syne he has gane far hynd out o'er

Lord Chattan's land sae wide,

That lord a worthy wight was ay
\Vlien faes his courage 'say'd :

Of Pictish race by mother's side,

When Picts rul'd Calcdon,

Lord Chattan claini'd the princely maid.
When he sav'd Pictish crown.

When bows were bent and darts were thrawn.

For thrang scarce could they flee,

The darts clove arrows as they met.

The arrows dart the tree.
Lang did they rage and fight fow fierce.
With little skaith to man.
But bloody, bloody was the field.

Ere that lang day was done.

The king of Scots that sinle brook 'd

The war that look'd like play,
Drew his braid sword, and brake his boAV,

Sin bows seem'd but dolav :

42
 ;

WIm
HARDYKNUTE.

Quoth Noble Rothsay, " Mine I'll keep,

I wat it's bleed a score."
" Haste up my merry men," cry'd the king
As he rode on before.

The King of Xorse he sought to find,

With him to mense the faught.
But on his forehead there did light

A sharpand fatal shaft

As he his hand put up to feel
The wound, an arrow keen,
waefou chance ! there pinn'd his hand
In midst between his een.

" Revenge, revenge," cry'd Rothsay's heir,

" Your mail-coat sha' na bide

The strength and shai-pness of my dart ;"

Then sent it through his side :

Another aiTOw well he mark'd.

It pierc'd his neck in twa.
His hands then quat the silver reins.

He low as earth did fa.

Sair bleeds my liege, sair, sair ho bleeds,

Again wi' might he drew
And gesture dread his sturdy bow.
Fast the braid arrow flew :

Wae to the knight he ettled at,

Lament now Queen Elgreed,
High dames too wail your darling's fall,

His youth and comely meed.

" Take afF, take afF his costly jupe"

(Of gold well was it twin'd,
Knit like the fowler's net through which
His steelly harness shin'd),
' Take, Norse, that gift fi-ae me, and bid
Him 'venge the blood it bears ;

43

mm
 ; : ;

HARDYKNUTE.

Say, if he face my bended bow,

He sure nae weapon fears."

Proud Norse with giant body tall,

Braid shoulders and arms strong,

Cry'd, " Where is Hardyknute sae fam'd
And fear"d at Britain's throne :

Though Britons tremble at his name,

I soon shall make him wail,

That e'er my sword was made sae shai"p,

Sae saft his coat-of-mail.

That brag his stout heart cou'd na bide,

It lenthim youthfou might

" I'm Hardyknute this day," he cried,
" To Scotland's King I heght.

To lay thee low as horse's hoof

My word I mean to keep."
Syne with the first stroke e'er he strake
He garr'd his body bleed.

Norse een like gray gosehawk's stood wild,

He sigh'd wi' shame and spite ;

" Disgrae'd is now my far fam'd arm

That left you power to strike :"

Then ga' his head a blow sae fell.

It made him down to stoop.

As laigh as he to ladies us'd

In courtly guise to lout.

Fow soon he rais'd his bent body,

His bow he marvell'd sair,

Sin blows till then on him but darr'd

As touch of Fairly fair :

Norse marvell'd too as sair as he,

To see his stately look

Sae soon as e'er he strake a fae.

Sac soon his life he took.

44
 HARDYKNUTE.

There on a lee where stands a cross

Set up for monument,

Thousands fow fierce that summer's day
Ealld, keen war's black intent.
Let Scots, whilst Scots, praise Hardyknute,
Let Norse the name ay dread.
Ay how he faught, aft how he spar'd.

Shall latest ages read.

Loud and chill blew westlin wind,

Sair beat the heavy shower,
Mirk grew the night ere Hardyknute
Wan near his stately tower ;

His tow'r that us'd wi' torches light

To shine sae far at night,
Seem'd now as black as mom-ning weed,
Nae marvel sair he sigh'd.

<,
it
Hardyknute" was printed in The Tea- Table Miscellant/ in 1724;
and in Dr Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, published in
1765, where it was prefaced with the following notice " As this fine :
—
morsel of heroic poetiy hath generally past for ancient, it is here
thrown to the end of our earliest pieces ; that such as doubt of its age
may the better compare it with other pieces of genuine antiquity.
For after all, there is more than reason to suspect, that most of its

beauties are of modern date ; and that these, at least (if not its Avhole
existence), have flowed from the pen of a lady within this present
century. particulars may be depended upon
The foUovdng One Mrs :

Wardlaw, whose maiden name was Halket (aunt of the late Sir Peter
Halket of Pitferran, in Scotland, who was killed in America along
with General Bradock in 1755), pretended she had found this poem,
written on shreds of paper, employed for what is called the bottoms

45
 HAKDYKNUTE. ^

of clues. A suspicion arose that it was her own composition. Some I

able judges asserted it [to] be modern. The lady did, in a manner, \

acknowledge it to be so. Being desired to show an additional stanza, \

as a proof of this, she produced the three last, beginning with " loud \

and shrill," &c., which were not in the copy that was first printed. \

The late Lord President Forbes,* and Mr Gilbert Elliot of Minto

(now Lord Justice-Clei'k for Scotland), who had believed it ancient,
|

contributed to the expense of printing the first edition, which came \

out in folio about the year 1720. This account is transmitted from \

Scotland by a gentleman of distinguished rank, learning, and genius, \

\ who yet is of opinion, that part of the ballad may be ancient, but re-
|

touched and much enlarged by the lady above mentioned. Lideed,

he hath been infonned that the late William Thomson, the Scottish j

musician, who published the Orpheus Caledonius, 1733, 2 vols. 8vo,

declared he had heard fragments of it repeated during his infancy, \

before ever Mrs Wardlaws' copy was heard of." <;

The suspicion thus hinted by Dr Percy has long since been held
as an established fact. The way in which Lady Wardlaw played off
the hoax is thus related by more recent commentators :
" She caused >

her brother-in-law, Sir John Bruce of Kinross, to communicate the \

MS. to Lord Binning (son of the poetical Earl of Haddington, and \

himself a poet) with the following account :

'
In perforaiance of my \

promise, I send you a true copy of the manuscript I found, a few

weeks ago, in an old vault at DunfennUne. It is written on vellum,
in a fair Gothic character, but so much defaced by time, as you will
find, that the tenth part is not legible.'" This is a different vei'sion
from the finding of it in the " bottoms of clues." In confinnation of
the ballad being modern, it is said " that Mr Hepburn of Keith, a
gentleman well known in the early part of last century, often declared

that he was in the house with Lady Wardlaw at the time she wrote
it and Mrs Wedderburn of Gasford, Lady Wai'dlaw's daughter, and
;

Mrs Menzies of Woodend, her sister-in-law, used to be equally posi-

tive as to the fact,"t

Notwithstanding this testimony, there still seems to be some

ground for the opinion of Dr Percy's correspondent, " that part of

* Duncan Forbes of Culloden.

t Chambers' Ballads.

46
 HARDYKNUTE.

the ballad may be ancient." Mr Hepburn and the ladies mentioned

may have seen Lady Wardlaw writing copies of Hardyknute, but it

is very questionable if they saw her in the act of composing the

verses. The presence of people is not usually favourable to the
cogitations of the muse. On the other hand, we have the positive
assurance of the author of " Oi^^heus Caledonius," that he had fre-

quently heard fragments of the ballad in his youth. There is, indeed,
an air of antiquity in the very conception of it, and a degree of unin-
telligibleness about the story, which could scarcely fall to be devised
by a modern writer. Lady Wardlaw is not known to have produced
any other poem, ballad, or song of any merit —and we hold the
authorship at all times questionable, where an individual has pro-
duced one good thing and no more. Lady Wardlaw, at the same
time, cannot be denied the merit of having retouched and enlarged
the fragment, which she has done in admirable keeping with the
spirit of the original.
The set of the ballad we have given, is a literal copy from the
original folio edition, " printed by James Watson, Piinter to the
King's most Excellent Majesty, mdccxix" — the edition referred
to in the note of Dr Percy. It seems to be very rare —and is an
excellent specimen of the art of typography in Scotland at the time.
The copy —rescued from the rapacious hands of a snufF-dealer —came
accidentally into our possession. There are twelve additional verses
in the ballad in the Reliques —a fact which Dr Percy does not \

seem to have been aware of, in referring to the " three last," begin-
ning with "loud and shrill," &c., as those produced by Lady Ward-
law in proof of the ballad being modem. We have chosen to abide
by the fragment as it stands in the folio edition. It is, perhaps,
worthy of remark, that the spelling is much more modem than it is

in the Reliques, or in any subsequent collection. A single verse will

show this :

'•
RoLin of Rothsay, bend thy bow,
Thy arrows sehute sae leil,
Mony a comely countenance
They hiiif turn'd to deidly pale.
Brade Thomas tak ze but zour hmce,
'Ac neid nae weapons niiiir,
Gif ze ticht weit as ze did anes
'Gainst WestmoHand's lers heir."

What object there was in thus aflecting the antique in subsequent

editions does not appear.

47
 —

HARDYKNUTE.

The ballad of Hardyknute is supposed to refer to the well known

defeat of the Norwegians at the battle of Largs in 1263. The
assumed castle of the hero —the house of " Fairly fair" —accords
perfectly with the description,
" High on a hill his castle stood
With ha's and tow'rs a height."

Fairhe Castle, still pretty entire, is situated on the coast side of the

parish of Largs, betwixt the small water of Kilbirnie on the north,

and that of Faii'lie on the south. It stands on the brink of a deep
and romanticly wooded ravine, about a quarter of a mile from the
sea, overhanging the stream of Fairlie. The castle, which, from its
style, seems upwards of 400 years old, commands a splendid view of
the Frith of Clyde. The barony of Fairlie was possessed, until the
beginning of the last century, when it was acquired by David, Earl of
Glasgow, by a family of the name of Faii-lie. Pont says, in his topo-

graphy of Cuninghame :
" Fairlie castele is a strong tovre, and very
ancient, beautified with orchardes and gardens. It belongs to Fairlie
de Eodem, cheifFe of ther name." Nisbet states that this family was
descended from Robert de Ross, a branch of the Rosses of Tarbet,
who, in the Ragman Roll, are said to have been the proprietors of
Fairlie, from which they took their name. The first of them yet
traced was William de Fairlie, who, in 1335, is included in the list of
Scotchmen who received letters of pardon fiom Edward III., for all

the crimes they had committed in war with England. The name was
written Farnlye in old writings. " Joheni Famlye de Eodem" is
mentioned in the testament of Thomas Boyd of Lin in 1547 ; it was
also spelled "Fainielie." It is so put down in ''the testament of
Katharine Crawfurd, Lady fairnelie w'iu the paroehine of Lairgis,"
1601.* According to this spelling, the name is probably derived
from the Celtic -fair, a height; or fairean, the rising or setting
of the sun. Fairlie Castle commands an excellent view of the set-
ting sun.
The Fairlies of that Ilk cannot thus be traced so far back as the
era of the battle of Largs — still it is possible that they may have been
in possession of it even then. At all events, it is quite probable that
a castle called Fairlie existed, where the present one now stands, as

* Com. Records of Glasgow.

48
 CARRICK FOR A MAN.

] represented in the ballad. For example, a castle existed on the small

\ barony of Grenan, on the Carrick coast, where the ruins of one built

\ in 1603 still remain, which is mentioned in a grant of the Doon Fish-

I
Abbey of Melrose, by William the Lion.
ings to the
] Mrs Wardlaw, whose presei'vation or composition of the ballad of
t Hardyknute has given rise to this gossip about antiquity, was the
second daughter of Sir Charles Halket of Pitferran, in Fifeshire.
I

She was born in 1679, and married to Sir Henry Wardlaw of Balum-
lie, or Pitrivie, in the same district, in 1696. She died about the
year 1727.

€axxi(k for a J^an.

When auld Robin Bruce

Lived at Tuniberry house,
He was the prince o' the people, the frien' o' the Ian'.
Then to Kyle for your cow,
Gallowa' for your woo.
But Carrick, my billies, when ye want a man.

At the stream o' auld bannocks,

There was cracking o' crummocks.
It was a hard tulzie, lang fought han' to han'.
Then to Kyle for your cow,
Gallowa' for your woo,
But Carrick, my billies, that day proved the man.

Then why should we not be crouse.

When we think o' auld Robin Bruce,
Whoso blood, it still flows, and whose progeny rings ?

Then to Kyle for your cow,

Gallowa' for your woo.
But Carrick, my billies, gives Britain her Queens !

49
 —

CAKRICK FOB A MAN.

These spirited lines are the production of the late Archibald Craw-
ford, author of " Tales of my Grandmother," " Bonnie Mary Hay,"
and several other popular songs. They embody the Carrick reading
of the old rhyme :

''
Kyle for a man,
Carrick for a cow,
Cuninohame for butter and cheese,
And Galloway for woo."
—
Some the Canick people in particular —contend for a different read-

making
ing,
" Carrick for a man,
Kyle for a cow,"
but the first would seem to be the proper one. It is the most general,
and as old as the days of Bellenden, who, in his description of Scot-

land, though he does not quote the rhjTne, evidently cori-oborates or

proceeds upon the sense of it. Speaking of Kyle, he says —" This
country abounds in strong and vahant men, where was born the most
renowned and valiant champion William Wallace, in the barony
called Riccarton." With regard to " Carrick for a cow," he mentions
a very curious fact in natural history, which, however incredible, suf-
ficiently attests the estimation in which Camck was held for the
superiority of its cattle. " In Carrick," he says, " ai'e kine and oxen,
delicious to eat, but their fatness is of a wonderful temperature ; all

other comestable beasts' fatness with the cold air doth congeal : by
the contrary, the fatness of these is pei-petually liquid, like oil."* In
the testament of " Jeane Stewart, Lady Barganie," who died in 1605,
relict of Thomas Kennedy of Bargany, who was slain in the feud
fight between him and the Earl of Cassillis in 1601, there are in the I

inventory, as at Bargany, " four Inglis Ky, pryce of ilk ane o''heid, with
|

hir foUowar, Twentie pund."t We are not aware whether there were
|

any other English cows in Ayrshire at the time. It would be worth

the while of an antiquarian agriculturist to ascertain, if practicable,
j

whether the native dairy-breed underwent any change by the intro- >

duction of these English cattle. It is said that the Angusshire stock ',

was much improved by being crossed. When James VI. went to

England to assume the southern crown, he borrowed largely from

the purses of the good folks of Fife, and in repayment sent a number

* History of Ayrshire. t Com. Rec. of Glasgow.

50
 CARRICK FOR A MAN.

of English cattle. Are we to suppose that the " four Inglis ky" at
Bargany were a portion of them? The conjecture is by no means
improbable. Lady Bargany was a favourite at court before her mar-
riage —and possibly enough she may have advanced cash to his ma-
jesty on his accession to the EngHsh throne.
Respecting the author of the verses, we copy the following account
of his death from one of the Ayr newspapers. He died suddenly a few
years ago.

DEATH OF MR CRAWFORD.

Here, at Xo. 29 High Street, on the evening of the 6th curt., very
suddenly, Mr Archibald Crawford, auctioneer, in the 58th year of his
age. In him Ayrshire has been deprived of one of the few stoiy and
lyric writers of which she could boast. Possessed of a caustic, yet
withal pleasant vein of humour, his tales bear the impress of a mind \

rich in fancy, and happy in expression. From a memoir of his Hfe, \

published some time ago,* it appears that no author could be less in-
debted to education for the development of his genius, than Craw-
ford. His school-boy days passed over without his acquiring more
than the mere rudiments of English reading. At the age of thirteen
he proceeded to London, where he passed eight years of his life in the
baking estabhshment of a relative. During that period he sedulously
devoted every spare moment He then returned to his
to reading.
native town, but soon afterwards removed to Edinburgh, where
he
entered the employment of Charies Hay, Esq. After the lapse of a
few years, he proceeded from thence to Perth, and engaged in the ser-
vice of Leith Hay, Esq. and it is to a daughter of that gentleman,
;

who manifested great kindness to the author during a fever, that the
public are indebted for the well known ballad of " Bonnie Mary Hay,"
which he composed in gratitude to the young lady. Settling at length
in Ayr, he published, in 1819, a satirical pamphlet, entitled " St James'
in an Uproar," which created great local excitement at the time. In
1825, the " Tales of my Grandmother," which, with some few excep-
tions, had previously appeared in successive numbers of the Ayr and
Wigtonshire Courier, were published by Constable & Co., Edin-

* See " Contemporaries of Burns."

51
 DANIEL BARR.

burgh, in two volumes. These Tales, principally founded on Ayi-shire

traditions, are told in a vigorous, racy style, and were well received
by the public. Besides " Bonnie Mary Hay," Mr Crawford was the
author of " Dear Scotland, I've no home but Thee," and one or two
other popular songs. In his private capacity as an auctioneer, he dis-
played much good humoured pleasantry, and his jokes seldom failed

to pi'oduce the intended effect, Mr Crawford has left a wife and sever-
al children. One of his sons, though quite a youth, has ali-eady given
much promise as an artist. The deceased was a native of Ayr, and
his death, we understand, was caused by apoplexy.

iianicl 33nrr.

Gif ye be na' acquainted wi' Daniel Barr,

I'll tell ye just now about Daniel Ban-,

Ye may travel to Glasgow, and four times as far,

E'er ye meet wi' a chappie like Daniel Barr.

He tint his e'e sight when he was a young man,

And to cheer himself up he the fiddling began,
It's nae wee mishap does his happiness mar,
For trials sit light upon Daniel Barr.

A mind aboon slavery has Daniel Barr,

The easy but firm-minded Daniel Barr,

There's many a fine dandy that smokes a cigar,

That's no half so happy as Daniel Barr.

Frae Willie Cobraith, o' guid bow-han' renown,

His lessons he got in Kilbarchan town ;

Now Willie's awa, but things might hac been waur,

For his mantle has lighted on Daniel Barr.

52
 ;

DANIEL BARR.

The lassies they a' Uke Daniel Barr,

The weans gather round about Daniel Barr,
And the tentie guidewife, though baith frugal and snar,
Is aye kind and couthie to Daniel Barr.

He makes himsel' usefu' in mony a way,

He'll thrash, ca' the fanners, oi- buttle the strae,
Or delve, fill the dung cart, and clawt up tlie glar,

Sa« obliging and helpfu' is Daniel Barr.

And aye welcome back again 's Daniel Ban-,

There's aye plenty ready for Daniel Ban-,
And whiles a bit glass out the muckle brown jar.
To keep up the spirits o' Daniel Barr.

At balls, or at rockings, he tak's them alang,

Wi' the music, the dance, and the tale, and the sang,
Though the nights may be dark, and the win's they may war,
Big parties assemble round Daniel Barr.

What wad our youths do wanting Daniel Barr ?

Sae enticing the strains o' Daniel Barr,

That they're seen straggling hame by the bright morning star,
Frae the mirth and the music o' Daniel Barr.

Would you hear him perform, ask " Macpherson's Lament,"

The mellow " Lea
and the " Unco bit Want,"
rigg,"
" Gow's Farewell to Whisky," or brisk " Jacky Tar,"
And ye'll fin' there's some music in Daniel Barr.

A soul fu* o' music has Daniel Barr,

But that's no' the best part o' Daniel Barr
He has fiiilings, nae doubt, but he's honest and squar,
An' that says a guid deal for Daniel Barr.

There's Walker and Carsewell, and Josie Strathern,

Though farthey excel, yet they've muckle to leam
;

Sae Dan and thae chieftains are just on a par.

They but play as they can—sae does Daniel Barr,

53
 " SCOFFING BALLAD."

I lia'e tell'd you some facts about Daniel Barr,

Yet I have nae said half about Daniel Barr ;

But minstrels will rise up in ages afar,

And sing and tell tales about Daniel Barr.

These verses are by Mr Andrew Aiken, author of " The Auld Fleckit
Cow," in the First Series. " Daniel Barr," the subject of the song, is

well known in the parish of Beith, and so fully described by the poet,
as to obviate the necessity of any remarks on our part.

" Scoffing ^Sallali."

INDUCTION OF THE REV. MR. LINDSAY TO THE COLLEGIATE

CHURCH OF KILMARNOCK IN 1764.
[The following burlesque verses, taken down from the recollection of
an eyewitness now living (1842), were written in 1764, on the occa-
sion of the violent induction of the Rev. Mr Lindsay to the parish
chui'ch, Kilmarnock.]

Poor John M' Crone* had ta'en the road,

And sair he did his auld beast goad.

To fetch in time his noble load.

Good people, hear my ditty.

And Orangefield, Dalrymple call'd

Frae Finlayson, or some sic fauld.

To quell the mob, now grown sae bauld,

Good people, hear my ditty.

But some folk had it in their head

His Lordship wad mak' nae sic speed
If Maggy Laudert had been dead,
Good people, hear my ditty.

* Valet to the Earl of Glencairn.

t Mrs Lindsay, previously housekeeper to the Earl of Glencairn.

54
 ; —

W)^
SCOFFING BALLAD.

This, as it may, I canna tell

Glencaim, he kens it best himsel'

His reason thus, the ku*k to fill,

Good people, hear my ditty.

For, through the windows, stanes did reel

Till Halket* said it was the deil.

And of his brethren took fareweel.

Good people, hear my ditty.

Mr Brownt was praying, 's 1 suppose,

Ane came sae very near his nose

The day's sae dark we maun it close,

Good people, hear my ditty.

Tailor Steven, precentor there.

Got his wig pu'd out hair by hair,

Until they made his headpiece bare.

Good people, hear my ditty.

John Wyllie, wha liv'd in New Street,

It seems was that day scant o' meat.

He cam to click his dinner, sweet.
Good people, hear my ditty.

Bailie Bapps, he got a prog.

Out o'er the head wi' Lambert'sJ dog,
Which laid him senseless as a log.
Good people, hear my ditty.

Though meek and gentle Lindsay§ was.

And had at heart the gude auld cause,
Yet nought could mak' the rabble pause,
Good people, hear my ditty.

* The Rev. Mv Halket of Fenwick, who went home on horseback at full

speed.
t The Rev. Mr Brown, Kilbirnie.
+ Lambert, gardener to Mr Paterson, town-clerk.
§ The Rev. Mr Lindsay.

55
 — —

" SCOFFING BALLAD.

Their fury rose to sic a height

He dared not pass in town the night,
But aff to Ii-vine took his flight,

Good people, hear my ditty.

Followed with hisses, yells, and groans.

With missiles struck, even dirt and stones,

While he their wicked rage bemoans,

Good people, hear my ditty.

And took a house in that quiet place,

Till ance their madness and disgrace
Would yield to better sense and grace.

Good people, hear my ditty.

The induction of the Rev. Mr Lindsay, to the parish church of Kil-

marnock, was effected against the will of the people. Bums, in his
poem of " The Ordination," composed on the settlement of the Rev.
Mr Mackinlay in Kilmarnock in 1786, says
" Curst common sense, that imp o' hell,
Cam in wi' Maggie Lauder."

And in a note, explanatory, adds —" Alluding to a scof&ng ballad

which was made on the admission of the late reverend and worthy Mr
Lindsay to the Laigh Kirk." The foi'egoing verses constitute the

identical " scoffing ballad" referred to by the poet. We are indebted

for them to the kindness of William Tannock, Esq., whose father was
almost the only person living who could repeat the whole of the bal-
lad. Mr Tannock, elder, was ten years of age when the induction of
Mr Lindsay took place in 1764; so that, in 1842, when his son noted

down the verses from his recitation, he would be eighty-eight years of

age.
The Earl of Glencairn, William, thirteenth Earl, was patron of the
church, and it was generally believed that Mr Lindsay obtained the
presentation of Kilmarnock through the influence of his wife 3far-
garet Lauder —who had fonnerly been housekeeper in the family of
the Earl. Mr Lindsay was minister of the Cumbraes at the time.
His translation was opposed, and the presbytery of Irvine decided
against it. The case, however, came before the General Assembly,

5&
 —

SCOFFING BALLAD.

when it was remitted to a committee. The following paragraph, in

the Caledonian Mercury, May 28, 1764, records the decision :

" This
day the committee proceeded to the consideration of the cause anent

the settlement of the Collegiate Church of Kilmarnock, when, after a

long healing, the Assembly reversed the sentence of the presbytery
of Irvine, sustained the reasons for the transportation of Mr Lindsay
from Cumbray to the parish of Kilmarnock, appointed the presbytery
to admit Mr Lindsay minister of Kilmarnock, betwixt and the 17th of
July next, and ordained them to report to the Commission their hav-
ing done so ; and the Assembly likewise empowered the Commission
finally to determine any question that should come before them, by
complaint, I'eference, or appeal, relative to this cause."
The same journal, of July 21, says: —"By a letter from Kilmar-
nock, we learn that on Thursday se'nnight, the day appointed by the
General Assembly for the transportation of the Rev. Mr Lindsay from
the Cumbraes to Kilmarnock, the patron, with a number of gentle-
men and ministers, went to the church, in order to proceed in the
settlement, but divine service was not well begun, when a mob of dis-
orderly persons broke into the church, throwing dirt and stones, and
making such noise, that Mr Brown, the minister who officiated, could
not proceed, on which the patron, with the gentlemen and ministers,
retired to a house in the neighbourhood. 'Tis said Mr Lindsay is to
be ordained in the presbji;ery-house in Irvine."
This statement accords precisely with the narrative of the ballad.
But the Mercury supplies some additional particulars. At the Autumn
\ Circuit Court at Ayr, " Alexander Thomson, William Wylie, James
Craufurd, John Hill, Adam White, David Dunlop, William Ximmo,
William Davies or Davidson, Hugh Thomson, alias Bullock, and Ro- ;

bert Creelman, tradesmen and journeymen in Kilmarnock, were in- ;

dieted for raising a tumult at and in the church of Kilmarnock, at the i

settlement of Mr Lindsay, as minister of that parish, in July last. The ;

last seven wei-e acquitted by the jury, and th% first three found guilty, <

and sentenced to be imprisoned for a month, and whipt through the !

streets of Air, and to find caution for keeping the peace, and a good |

behaviour for a twelvemonth."

Such a punishment now-a-days would be considered excessive. It \

would appear, from the ballad, that the military were called into re-
quisition at the induction of IMr Lindsay :

H
 ; ;

it's a waefu' thing this drink, gudeman !

" And Orangefield, Dalrymple call'd,

From Finlayson, or some sic faixld,
To quell the mob, now grown sae bauld," &c.

Dalrymple of Orangefield, near Monkton, was a military officer

at the time. His son, James Dalrymple, Esq. of Orangefield, was one
of the early patrons, and a warm friend of Bums.
The authorship of the ballad has been attributed to two individuals
— ^both natives of Kilmarnock —one of them, named Hunter, a shoe-
maker and the other, Tannahill, a legal practitioner. Our informant,
;

Mr A. M'Kay, is of opinion that it was the production of Hunter, who

is allowed to have composed several other doggrel pieces.

IV% a Macfu' ^tmg ti)is Wxin% Gubman.

It's a waefu' thing this drink, gudeman !

It tooms baith house and hauld ;

Gars peace an' plenty flee our hame,

Brings strife and poortith cauld.

Yet there ye lie an' snore, gudeman !

Frae sun-rise till it's set

An' though the four-hours ha'e come roun',

Ye're barely sober yet.

Ye're barely sober yet, gudeman !

Ye're barely sober yet.

It's a waefu' thing this drink, gudeman !

It mak's our bairnies bare ;

There's no' ao dud upon their backs

But's worn sax months and mair.
I got thae bauchles on my feet,

The day we christened Bell

58
 THE SANG O THE SPINDLE.

An' Bell is now a towmont auld,

As weel ye ken yoursel' !

As weel ye ken yoursel', gudeman !

As weel ye ken yoursel'.

It's a waefu' thing this diink, gudeman !

It throws a cauldrife blicht

O'er the ingle-side of the gudeman
Wha turns braid day to nicht.
Sae dinna let Heaven's ain bricht sun
Rise o'er your revelry :

But, oh ! tak' pity on youreel'—

On our wee bairns an' me.
On our wee bairns an' me, gudeman !

On our wee bairns an' me.

W.
Girvan, July 25, 1842.

These verses possess—independently of their object — considerable

merit. They appeared in the Ayr Observer, but we know not the
author.

^i)0 ^ang o' t^e ^pintilc.

[The spindle, the only machine in olden times, with the simple reel and loom
of home manufacture. The mode of counting the hanks of yarn is embodied in
I
> the unique " ower-come" of the following. This simple tale of ingenious indus-
try, may preserve the remembrance of a piece of ancient cottage furniture cast
amid the lumber of other days, but hanging, like dusty pictures, on the memories
—
of our Scottish grand-dames.]

Auld Auntie was nae spinster bauld,

A leal-gude bodie she ;

In the bonnie howe o' a heath'ry knowe,

Aside a broomy lea.

59
 — •

THE SANG O THE SPINDLE.

She calmly twin'd the thread o' life.

An' turn'd her reel ahout,

Singing, tu's ane —an' tu's no anc

An' til's twa a' oot.

She aft o' thriftie rockins spak',

0' cracks an' kempin' rare,

"S^liere eident lasses blithely span.

The lint as straight's a hair.
An' aye they twin'd their siller skene.
An' twirl'd the reel about,

Singing, tu's ane —and tu's no ane —

An' tu's twa a' oot.

An' orphan boy, her pride and joy,

A lammie in her e"e,

Play'd wi' the spindle at her feet,

Or wummled 'bout her knee.

An' ower, an' ower, like Auntie's sang.
He read her ballad book,
Singing, tu's ane —an' tu's no ane
An' tu's twa a" oot.

Near a dark tani their shielin lay,

'Mang Druid rocks that hung

Cauld shadows ower its dowie face,

Like cluds ower winter's sun ;

There up and down, the lang day roun'.

He watch'd the water coot,
And learn'd its sang, had ower-come nane,
Bat aye the twa a' oot.

Then weel he watch'd ae wee pet lamb.

Or brought frae loaning green,

The kye frae 'mang the seggans lang.

To neebours hame at e'en.
Or paidled by the lochs an' bums.
To catch the wvlie trout,

60
 : — —

THE SANG O THE SPINDLE.

An' whiles got ane —an' whiles got nane—

An' whiles the twa a' oot.

His parent- tree wi' shielin-bough,

By death was wede awa',
An' left alane, 'niang shaken leaves,
Ae wee bit bud to blaw.
But heaven casts, wi' tenty care.
Love's downy lap about
The oi^Aan lane, M'ha friends has nane.
And maks the lost twa oot.

The helping han', in time o' need,

Gets something aye to gi'e ;

That gow'd that's grasped wi' miser greed,

Taks wings itsel' to flee.

And whiles the purse that's hespet steeve.
Tines a' its gathenngs oot,

An' catching ane — it whiles gets nane

And seldom twa a' oot.

A moral guid has Auntie's sang

This bin-ing earth's a wheel.
We're spinners a', threads short or lang.
Just as we spin, we reel.

An' up an' down, the thread o' life

Has many a wheel about

—
Noo as we spin time's gowden wai"p,

Life's wab is woven out.

These verses are by Miss Aird of Kilmarnock —a poetess of nature's

own making. In her dedication of a small volume of poetry, printed
in 1846, she says of herself: " My classic friends will forgive my pre-
sumption, and cast the salt of Christian charity into whatever in them
I

; is bitter, when they know I have never written a single verse by mea-
sure, nor a sentence by rule —my Bible being my only lexicon." The
I
poems of Miss Aird display a very surprising degi'ee of perfection, con-

sidering the many drawbacks which the self-taught labour under. We

61
 ; ;

THE SANG O THE SPINDLE.

have to thank her (in the spirit of an antiquary) for recording so plea-
santly as she has done, the now almost forgotten practice of the spin-
dle. There are several very pretty lays, or songs, in Miss Aird's
volume. Of all who have recently sung of " The Auld Kirk -Yard,"
we certainly think her lines the sweetest. We quote the princi-
pal '.-^

THE AULD KIRK- YARD.

" Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap."

Calm sleep the village dead,

In the auld kirk-yard
But softl)', slowly, tread,
In the auld kirk-yard ;

For the weary, weary, rest,

Wi' the green turf on their breast.
And the ashes o' the blest
Flower the auld kirk-yard.

It has a wrinkled face,

The auld kirk-yard
And tears, of years, we trace
In the auld kirk-yard ;

Strifes, to the earth unknown,

Revealed to God alone.
Hid, by the tribute stone.
In the auld kirk-yard.

Oh many
! a tale it hath,
The auid kirk-yard.
Of life's crooked, thorny path
To the auld kirk-yard.
But mortality's thick gloom
Clouds the sunny world's bloom
Veils the mystery of doom.
In the auld kirk-yard.

A thousand memories spring.

In the auld kirk-yard.
Though Time's death-brooding wing
Shade the auld kirk-yard.
The light of many a hearth.
Its music and its mirth.
Sleep in the deep dark earth
Of the auld kirk-yard.

Nae dreams disturb their sleep

In the auld kirk-yard :

They hear nae kindred weep

8 In the auld kirk-yard.
The sire, with silver hair ;

The mother's heart of care ;

The young, the gay, the fair,

Crowd the auld kirk-yard.

62
 ; ;

THE CROOK AND PLAID.

'Tis a chamber for the bride

Oft, the auld kirk-yard
A shroud for beauty's pride,
The auld kirk-yard.
On the haughty lip of rose
The greedy worms repose,
Wliere the lowly gowan blows
In the auld kirk-yard.

Life's greenest leaf lies low

In the auld kirk-yard ;

Swept from the giant bow.

To the
auld kirk-yard ;

And the sere leaf 'neath our tread

Whispers, o'er the dreamless dead,
As a leaf we all do fade
To the auld kirk-yard.

The gorgeous starlight gleams

On the auld kirk-yard ;

And spring-time's fostering beams

Gild the auld kirk-yard ;

But the lang, lang, winter snows

A wreathy mantle throws
O'er the sere and blighted rose
In the auld kirk-yard.

But the heart's sad beatings cease

In the auld kirk-yard :

And aliens rest in peace

In the auld kirk-yard.
Where ebbed dark floods of strife
Dove-like hope, wi' promise rife,
Plants the broken branch o' life
In the auld kirk-yard.

®f)£ OTrook antr ^Iatt(.

Ilk lassie has a laddie she lo'es aboon the rest,

Ilk lassie has a laddie, if she like to eonfess't,

That is dear unto her bosom whatever be his trade ;

But my lover's aye the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

Ilk morn he climbs the mountains, his tieecy flocks to view,

And bear's the lav'rocks chanting, new sprung frae 'mang the dew

63
 ; ; — ; —

THE CROOK AND TLAID.

His bonnie wee bit doggie, sae frolicsome and glad,

Rins aye before the laddie that wears the ci'ook and plaid.

And when that he is wearied, and lies upon the grass.

What if that in his plaidio he hide a bonnie lass ?
Nae doubt there's a preference due to every trade,
But commen' me to the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

And when in summer weather he is upon the hill.

He reads in books of history that learns him mcikle skill

There's nae sic joyous leisure to be had at ony trade.

Save that the laddie follows that wears the crook and plaid.

What though in storm o' winter, part o' his llock should die,

My laddie is aye cheerie, and why should not I ?

The prospect o' the summer can weel mak' us glad ;

Contented is the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

King David was a shepherd, while in the prime o' youth.

And following the flocks, he ponder'd upon truth ;

And when he came to be a king, and left his former trade,

'Twas an honour to the laddie that wears the crook and plaid.

This song is attributed to Tibbie Pagan —a somewhat singular charac- \

ter. In a small volume of doggrel, published by Isobel, we should t

suppose about 1805, she gives the following account of herself :

" I was born near four miles from Nith-head,*

Where fourteen years I got my bread
My learning it can soon be told,
Ten weeks, when I was seven years old,
With a good old religious wife,
Who lived a quiet and sober life ;

Indeed, she took of me more pains

Than some does now of forty bairns.
With my attention, and her skill,
I read the Bible no that ill

And when grew a wee thought mair,

I
I read when 1 had time to spare ;

But a' the whole tract of my time,

I found m3'self inclined to rhyme ;

When I see merry company,

sing a song with mirth and glee,
I
And sometimes 1 the whisky pree, «

* The water of Nith, which takes its rise in the parish of New Cumnock.

64
 ;

THE CROOK AND PLAID.

But 'deed it's best to let it be.

A' my faults I will not tell,
I scarcely ken them a' mysel'
I've come through various scenes of life,
Yet never was a married wife."'

In this brief sketch, Isobel confesses her follies, but wisely refrains
from telling all her faults. Little is known of her early years beyond
what she has herself recorded. Lame from infancy, she does not ap-
pear to have ever been able for laborious industiy ; and though well
connected, as it is said, none of her relations seem to have befriended
her, while the lessons of the "good old religious wife" do not appear

to have made any lasting impression. Nature had bestowed upon her
few of those softer features with which the fair sex are generally
favoured. Speaking of her in later life, our infonnant describes her
as a woman of " a very unearthly appearance." She squinted with one
of her eyes —had a large tumour on her side —and was so deformed in
one of her feet as to require crutches when walking. She had great
^^vacity of spirit, however, and an excellent voice ; and it is affirmed
that, notwithstanding her ungainly aspect, she was at one period
courted by a person of the name of Campbell, to whom she had a
child, and was on the eve of marriage when he deserted her.

The greater part of Isobel's life was passed in the neighbourhood of

Muirkirk. She first occupied, for a short time, a cottage on the pro-
perty of Muirsmill, and subsequently removed to one given her by
Admiral Keith Stewart, on the banks of the Gai-pal Water, within a
mile or two of the village. The situation was romantic, but must
have been exceedingly dreary in winter. The dwelling, constructed
out of a low arch, was originally built for a brick-store in connection
with Lord Dundonald's tai-- works. In this lonely spot, Isobel resided
for upwards of thirty years. She was no recluse, however ; for, night
after night, the vaulted roof of her humble dwelling rang with the
voice of licentious mirth, and the revelries of bacchanalian worship-
pers, among whom she was the administering priestess. Famed for ;

her sarcastic wit, as well as for her vocal powers, her cottage may be
truly said to have been the favourite howf of all the drunken wags
and " drouthy neebours" in the district. She had no license for the
retail of spirits, but usually kept a bottle for the supply of her cus-
tomers ; and by
this means she contrived to eke out a subsistence
which must otherwise have been sustained from charitv an alterna- —
65
 — ;

WHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN.

tive to which the proud spirit of Isobel would have broken ere it had
stooped. Not only was the Poetess known to the convival in her own
neighbourhood, but to many from a great distance ; and at no period
was her humble dwelling more crowded or more uproarious than dur-
ing the month of August, when gentlemen from all quarters assemble
on the moors of Muirkirk to enjoy the exercise of grouse- shooting.
She at all times delighted in whisky-drinking, and in the company of
jolly topers ; but the " pouting season," as it is called, was to her a
period of more than ordinary enjoyment. Many of the sportsmen not
only frequented her cottage, but occasionally sent for her to Muirkirk,
where, iii return for her songs, her wit, and wicked sarcasm, she was
of course well plied with liquor and rewarded with money.
Notwithstanding her dissolute life, Isobel lived to an age attained
by few. She died on the 3d November 1821, in the eightieth year of
her age. Extensively known for her eccentricity of character, her
death created considerable noise, and crowds of every class flocked

from all quarters to her funeral. Her remains were conveyed to the
churchyard of Muirkirk in a cart. The day, it was remarked, was
extremely stormy —so much so, that the procession could scarcely
move on. A stone has been erected over her grave, inscribed with her
name, her age, and date of death. From " The Contemporaries of
Burns."

OTIbtn 31 upon tj^g 23osom %tax\.

When I upon thy bosom lean.

Enraptured I do call thee mine

I glory in those sacred ties
That made us one, who once were twain

66
 — —
; ;; —;

WHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN.

A mutual flame inspires us both

The tender look, the melting kiss ;

Even years shall ne'er destroy our love

Some sweet sensation new will rise.

Have I a wish ? 'Tis all for thee

I know thy wish is me to please

Our moments pass so smooth away,

That numbers on us look and gaze.
Well pleased to see our happy days,
They bid us live and still love on ;

And if some cares shall chance to rise,

Thy bosom still shall be my home.

I'll lull me there and take my rest

And if that ought disturb my fair,
I'll bid her laugh her cares all out,
And beg her not to drop a tear.
Have I a joy ? 'tis all her own ;

Her heart and mine are all the same

They're like the woodbine round the tree,

That's twined till death shall us disjoin.

Another version of this song appeared in Johnson's Scots Musical

Museum, considerably amended, it is presumed, by the hand of Burns.
The authorship has invariably teen assigned to John Lapraik, the
friend and correspondent of the Poet. In a Glasgow periodical, how-
ever, the firstnumber of which was published a few weeks ago, an at-
tempt is rudely made to tear the chaplet from his aged brow. The
following is the article we allude to :

" We have made another curious discovery. Lapraik, honest auld '

Lapi-aik,' of Bums, is not the author of the well known song,

" When I upon thy bosom lean,"

usually attributed to him. The '

Weekly Magazine, or Edinburgh
Amusement,' vol. xxii. p. 82, October 14, 1773, published the follow-

67
 — ;

Lines addressed by a husband to his wife, after being six years married, and
sharing a great variety of fortune together

" AVhen on thy T)OSom I recline,

Enraptur'd still to call thee mine,
To call thee mine for Life ;

I glory in the sacred ties,

Which modern wits and fools despise,
Of husband and of wife.
" A mutual flame inspires our bliss,
—
The tender look the melting hiss,
Even years have not destroyed.
Some sweet sensation, ever new,
Springs up —
and proves the maxim true,
Chaste love can ne'er be cloyed.
" Have I a wish ?
— 'tis all for thee,
Hast thou a wish ?^'tis all for me.
So soft our moments move ;

What numbers look with ardent gaze.

Well pleased to see our happy days.
And bid us live and love — !

" If care arise (and cares will come).

Thy bosom is my
softest home,
I lull me there to rest
And there ought disturbs my
is fair,
1 bid her sigh out all her care.
And lose it in my breast.

" —
Have I a joy 'tis all her own,
Or hers and mine are all but one.
Our hearts are so entwin'd ;

That like the ivy round the tree.

Bound up in closest amity,
'Tis death to be disjoined.

" A Happy Husband.

" Edinburgh, Oct. 11.

" Now this appeared nearly twelve years befoi'e the date of Bums'
letter to Lapraik (April 1, 1785), and fifteen before Lapraik's own
volume (Kilmarnock, 1788). "We copy the song, as it is printed
there, verbatim ; its inferiority to the first version, we think, will be
acknowledged by all. [Here the Editor quotes Lapraik's version.]
Was ever fraud like this? Burns improved upon Lapraik for the

Musetim. Nevertheless, even his is inferior to that of the '

Weekly
Magazine.' We give it, also, with the changes in italics. * * *
The hand of the mctftter is here, and setting aside the Weekly Maga-
zine altogether, Lai^raik has little or no mejnt. At any rate, we can

68
 — !

never look upon him now, as '

tlie honest auld Lapraik.' Is this

harsh ? Ed."
Most assuredly, we say, it is. That there has been gross plagiar-

rism somewhere, the Editor of the Thistle has shown —and he de-
seiwes credit for the discovery ; but what is the evidence upon
which he so rashly convicts Lapraik ? "What proof has he that the
guilt does not lie on the other side ? Bm-ns first heard the song in
question, at a " rockin" in 1785. Common report attributed it to
Lapraik, who was then, it ought to be remarked, in his fifty-eighth
year —old enough to have written songs forty years previously
Bums, who had frequent and familiar intercourse with Lapraik after-
wards, says —" He has often told me that he composed this song one
i day when his wife had heen fretting o'er their misfortunes." In
the face of this direct testimony, and the popular belief that the
song was the composition of Lapraik, we would be slow to conceive
that he had plagiarised, or rather copied it only twelve years pre-
viously from a magazine with which Burns was as likely to be

acquainted as himself. The probability seems as gi-eat — if not

greater —that some contributor Magazine had picked
to the Weekly
up the verses —and, altering them, adopted them as his own. Un-
til stronger evidence of the plagiaiism of Lapraik is produced, we
must still regard him as the author of " ^\^len I upon thy bosom
lean."
John Lapraik, the senior of all the Ayrshue contemporaries of
Burns, was bom in 1727, at Laigh Dalquhram (or, as now pronounced,
Dalfram), situated on the road to Sorn, about three miles west of
Muirkirk. Here his father lived before him, and the property had
been in possession of the family for several generations. He was the
eldest son, and, by the death of his father, succeeded at an early
period to the paternal inheritance. His education, though equal, if

not superior, to the common range of parochial instruction at that

period, was by no means classical ; and, as observed by himself, he
had little leisure to improve his mind by extensive reading. At what
period he first attemjjted verse it is impossible to guess ; but it must
I

' have been long prior to the attempts of his youthful friend —the in-
\ iniitable Bard of Coila.

I
Lapraik married in March 1754. He had then attained his twenty-
seventh year. The object of his choice was ilargaret Rankin, eldest
 AVHEN I UPON THY BOSOM LEAN.

daughter of William Rankin of Lochhead, and sister to John, the

well known " rough, rude, ready-witted Rankin." From a document
(the contract of marriage*) in our possession, it appears that he re-
ceived with his bride a dowcry of one hundred pounds sterling ; and
that, in case of his demise, under certain contingences, she was to
\
obtain an annuity of two hundred merks Scots. His property, at this
period, consisted, in the words of the document, of " All and haill that
eight shilling ninepenny land of old extent of Dalquhram, alias

Nether Dalquhram ; and all and haill the *eight shilling ninepenny
I
land of old extent of Upper Dalquhram, commonly called Laigh
< Hall ; as also all and haill the eight shilling ninepenny land of old
i extent of Dalquhram, called Douglass Dalquhram, with the respective

I
houses, biggings, yeards, parts, and pendicles, and haill pertinents of

the said several lands and teinds, parsonage and vinerage of the same,
all Ipng within the parish of Muirkirk, lordship and late regality,

now barony of Kylesmuir, and sheritldom of Ayr, together with the

fishing of salmond and other fishing in the water of Ayr." Besides
the lands enumerated, which appear to have been considerable, La-
praik held in lease the ground and mill of Muirsmill, distant from
Dalfram about half a mile ; and for some years subsequent to his
maniage he enjoyed with his " wedded wife" that degree of happi-
ness which competence and affection were so well calculated to afford.
Possessed of a cheerful, kind disposition, few men were more beloved
in his sphere, or better fitted for the reciprocal interchange of social
life. Fond of poetry and song, he essayed the rustic lyre ; and happy
in his household, its strings were alone attuned for the domestic
hearth. Little did he dream that the muse thus wooed in prosperity,
should, at no distant period, become the solace of his misfortune If

Among the earliest of the poet's griefs was the death of his wife,

^
soon after the birth of her fifth child. J This was indeed a severe

I
stroke, and laot less keenly felt. The blank in the domestic circle was
< supplied, however, a few years afterwards (1766), in the person of

* To this document, in addition to the signatures of the contracting parties

(viz.John Lapraik, William Rankin, and Margaret Rankin), is also appended
that of .lohn Rankin, as one of the witnesses. In respect to penmanship,
Lapraik's decidedly the best.
is

t The Contemporaries of Burns.

I Three of the
five children readied the years of maturity. One of the sons
died abroad, the other, William, at Woolwich.

70
 SIR ARTHUR AND LADY ANNE.

Janet Anderson, of Lightshaw, the name of a neiglibom-ing fann pos-

sessed by her father.

Lapraik unfortunately became involved in the calamity occasioned

by the stoppage of the Douglas and Heron Bank, and was compelled
i to part with his property. After experiencing considerable difficulty,

i the poet, at an advanced period of life, became post-master in Muir-

I
kii"k, where he died, in the eightieth year of his age, on the 7th May
1807.

BY HUGH AINSLIE.

Sir Arthur's foot is on the sand.

His boat wears in the wind.
An' he's turn'd him to a fair foot-page
Was standing him behind.

" Gae hame, gae hame, my bonnie boy.

An' glad your mither's e'e,

I ha'e left anew to weep an' rue,

Sae there's nane maun weep for thee.

" An' take this to my father's ha'.

An' tell him maun speed
I ;

There's fifty men in chase o' me,

An' a price upon my head.

" An' bear this to Dunellie's towers,

Where my love Annie's gane.

It is a lock o' my brown hair,

Girt wi' the diamond stane."

71
 ;; ; ; — ——
; ;

SIR ARTHUR AND LADY ANNE.

" Dunellie, he has dochters five,

An' some o' them are fair

Sae, how will 1 ken thy true love
Amang sae mony there ?"

" Ye'll ken her Ly the stately step,

As she gaes up the ha'

Ye'll ken her by the look o' love
That peers outowre them a'

" Ye'll ken her by the braid o' goud

That spreads o'er her e'e-bree

Ye'll ken her by the red, red cheek,

Wlien ye name the name o' me.

" That cheek should lain on this breast-bane-

That hame should been my ha'

Our tree is bow'd, our flow'r is dow'd
Sir Ai-thur's an outlaw."

He sigh'd and turn'd him right about,

\Vliere the sea lay braid and wide ;

It's no to see his bonnie boat.

But a wat'ry cheek to hide.

The page has doff'd his feather'd cap.

But an' his raven hair ;

An' out there came the yellow locks.

Like swirls o' the gouden wair.

Syne he's undone his doublet clasp

'Twas o' the grass green hue

An', like a lily frae the pod,
A lady burst in view.

" Tell out thy errand now, Sir Knight,

Wi' thy love tokens a'

72
 ; ; —

SIR ARTHUfi AND LADY ANNE.

If I e'er rin against my will,

It shall be at a lover's ca'."

Sir Arthur's turn'dhim round about,

E'en as the lady spak' ;

An' thrice he dighted his dim e'e,

An' thrice he stepped back.

But ae blink o' her bonnie e'e,

Out spake his Lady Anne

An' he's catch'd her by the waist sae sma'
Wi' the gripe of a drowning man.

" O Lady Anne, thy bed's been

!
hard,
When T thought it the down ;

O Lady Anne, thy love's been deep.

!

When I thought it was flown.

" I've met my love in the green wood

My foe on the brown hill

But I ne'er met wi' aught before

I liked sae weel —an' ill.

"Oil could make a queen o' thee,

An' it would be my pride ;

But, Lady Anne, it's no for thee

To be an outlaw's bride."

" Ha'e I left kith an' kin. Sir Knight,

To turn about an' rue ?

Ila'e I shared win' and wcet wi' thee,

That I maun leave thee now ?

••
There's goud an' siller in this ban'
Will buy us mony a rigg ;

There's pearlings in this other ban'

A stately tow'r to hw.

K 73
 — ; —— : ; ;

MY AULD UNCLE WATTY.

" Though thou'rt an outlaw frae this Ian'

The world's braid and wide."
Make room, make room, my merry men,
For YOung Sir Arthur's biide !

Tune — Bonnie Dundee.

O ! weel I ha'e mind o' my auld uncle Watty,

When but a bit callan I stood by his knee,
Or clamb the big chair, where at e'enin' he sat aye
He made us fu' blythe wi' his fun and his glee
For he was knackie, and couthie, and crackle,
!

humour and lair in his noddle had he

Baith
The youths o' the clachan he'd keep a' a-laughin',
Wi' his queer observations and stories sae slee.

The last Hogmanay that we met in his cottie.

To talk owre the past, and the nappy to pree.

Some auld-farrant sangs, that were touchin' and witty,

He sung, till the bairnies were dancin' wi' glee

And syne in the dance, like a youngster o' twenty.
He lap and he flang wi' auld Xaimie Macfee
In a' the blythe meeting nae ane was sae canty,
Sae jokin', sae gabby, sae furthy, and ft-ee.

And ! had ye seen him that e'enin' when Roiy

Was kippled to Maggie o' Riccarton Mill
Wi' jokes rare and witty he kept up the glory,

Till morning's faint glimmer was seen on the hill.

74
 ;
; ; —

THE BEDS OF SWEET ROSES.

! he was a body, wlien warm'd wi' the toddy,

Whase wit to ilk bosom enchantment could gie ;

For fuunin' and daffin', and punnin' and laughin',

Throughout the hale parish nae equal had he.

But worn out at last wi' life's cares and its labours,
He bade an adieu to his frien's a' sae dear,
And sunk in death's sleep, sae bewail'd^by his neebors,
Wha yet speak his praise, and his mem'ry revere.

Whar slumbers the dust o' my auld auntie Matty,

We dug him a grave wi' the tear in our e'e
And there lay the banes o' my auld uncle Watty,
To moulder in peace by the big aiken-tree.

The above song is by A. M'Kay, author of " Drouthy Tarn," &c. A

ballad from his pen appeai-ed in the First Series.

®i)e 33ft(s of ^h)£ct moses.

A I was a walking one morning in May,

The little birds were singing delightful and gay;
The little birds were singing delightful and gay
When I and my true love did often sport and play,
Down among the beds of sweet roses.
Where I and my true love did often sport and play,
Down among the beds of sweet roses.
Mj daddy and my mammy I oft have heard tlieni say.

That I was a naughty boy, and did often sport and play
But 1 never liked, in all my life, a maiden that was shy,
Down among the beds of sweet roses.

Although the authorship of this song cannot be traced to Ayrshire,

still, as it owes its preservation to Bums, and was unknown else-
where, it may with some propi-iety be classed amongst the lyrics of
the country. The poet, in his " Remarks on Scottish Song," says
" This song, so far as I know, for the first time appears here [John

75
 ; ; ;

MY LADY S GOWN, THERE S GAIRS UPON T.

son's 3fuseiiin^ in print. Wlien I was a boy, it was a very popular

song in Ayrshire. I remember to haA'C heard those fanatics, the

Buchanites, sing some of their nonsensical rhymes, which they dignify

with the name of hvmns, to this air."

iilg ILabic's (Stoim, tl^txt's (Bm% upon't.

TvyB—Gregg's Pipes.

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,

And gowden flowers sac rare upon't
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,

My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.

My lord a-hunting he is gane,

But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane
By Colin's cottage lies his game.
If Colin's Jenny be at hame.

My lady's white, my lady's red,

And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude ;

But her tend-punds lands o' tocher guid

Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed.

Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss,

Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass,

A lily in a wilderness.

Sae sweetly move her genty limbs,

Like music notes o' lover's hymns :

The diamond dew in her een sae blue,

Where laughing love sae wanton swims.

My lady's dink, my lady's drest.

The flower and fancy o' the west

But the lassie that a man lo'es best,

O that's the lass to mak' him blest.

76
 — ! ; ;

JAMIE TAMSON.

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,

And gowden flowers sae rare upon't

But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,

My lord thinks meikle mair upon't.

The idea of this song is believed to be old, and some of the words also
most of it, however, is the workmanship of Burns. The air to which
it was written was the composition of James Gregg, a musician belong-
ing to Ayrshii-e, whose memory still lives in the west as an improver
of the telescope, a mechanist, and a painter. He is still more plea-
santly remembered by this tune, which is often called for when the
dancers are on the floor
" And all goes merry as a marriage bell."

[Gregg was a native of Ayr. Two of his descendants are now in

business in Edinburgh.]

3|amic damson.

Am— Highland Laddie.

Wat ye wha's in yon town ?

Jamie Tamson, Jamie Tamson ;

Wi' no a hair on a' his crown.

Bare as Samson, bare as Samson.
What's the reason his hair's awa' ?

Making thrang, man, making thrang, man.

Sangs to tickle us, ane an' a'.

Short an' lang, man, short an' lang, man,

Jamie Tamson 's then a bard ?

Xaething nearer, naething nearer.

That's the way his fate's sae hard ?

Xaething clearer, naething clearer

That's the way his elbows are bare ?

Bread is sma', man, bread is sma', man,

And his brow is nicket wi' care ?

Save us a', man, save us a', man.

77
 — ; ; ; —

JAMIE TAMSON.

Oh ! but I am like to cry,

Aft dejected, aft dejected.

To see how the noble Bardies die

Sae neglected, sae neglected :

To think on the coofs that strut and swell,

Bien an' braw, man, bien an' braw, man,

AVlia, just like our chapel-bell.
Hum an' ha', man, hum an' ha', man.

Is na this a serious thing

Rin an' print it, rin an' print it

Tell yon chap they ca' the king,

Oh, an' he kent it ! oh, an' he kent it !

He would surely cause a law

To be enacted, be enacted,
That the Bardies, ane an' a',

Should be respected, be respected.

That instead o' bigging stanes.

What a blether what a blether ! I

On the weary Bardie's banes,

They wad gather, they wad gather
Something that wad thick'n the brose
O' the Bardies, o' the Bardies
Tak' the jock-nebs frae the nose.
An' co'er the hurdles, co'er the hurdles,

O, that I had siller to spare !

Killie's Bard, then, Killie's Bard, then.

Should be happy late an' ear'

Nobly heard, then, nobly heard, then

Heard as he used to be, when he
Whistled an' blew, man, whistled an' blew, man,
On the green-boys* on the lea,

Ay, that wad do, man, that wad do, man.

* The Kilmarnock Sharpshooters, of which corjis, as is stated in the preced-

Thomson had the honour of being
ing sketch, first Captain.

78
 JAMIE TAMSON'.

But since fortune's sae unkin',

He an' I, man, he an' I, man,
Maun just hope that we will fin'.

By an' by, man, by an' by, man.

Happier days, when care shall fling,

Mad to see, man, mad to see, man.

Bards triumphant on the wing.
Rich an' free, man, rich an' free, man.

Then, wha lives in yon town ?

Jamie Tamson, Jamie Tamson ;

Wi' a garlan' on his crown.

Strong as Samson, strong as Samson i

Great in counsel, at the pen ;

Leal an' canty, leal an' canty ;

Great, the first, an' best o' men,

Stow'd wi' jjlenty, stow'd wi' plenty.

The late John Kennedy, author of " Fancy's Tour with the Genius
of Cruelty," and other poems, wrote these lively verses on James
Thomson, a well known worshipper of the muse in Kilmarnock.

Thomson, whose father was a respectable tanner in that town, re-

ceived a classical education, with a view to the ministry. He was in-
duced, however, on account of delicate health, to give up his clerical
prospects, and enter into partnership with his father.

Soon after he engaged in business, he married Helen Bruce, a

young lady with whom he became acquainted during the years he
attended College, and who was governess in the family of Mungo
Fairlie, Esq. of Holmes. She possessed little or no fortune, but in
personal attractions and graces of mind, was superior to the gene-
rality of her sex. To him she bore five children. It was not his lot,
however, to enjoy her society for a very lengthened period ; for,

while yet in the prime of life, she was seized with an illness which
occasioned her dissolution.
In the year 1803 or 1804, -when Britain was threatened with inva-
sion, the loyal inhabitants of Kilmarnock, like those of many other
towns of Scotland, formed themselves into a military body, under the
name of the Kilmarnock Sharpshooters, or Rifle Volunteers. In the

79
 JAMIE TAMSON.

fomiation of tliis corps, which Thomson had the honour of command-

ing, he evinced considerable activity. The musical instruments and
dresses of the band were purchased at hisown expense, and he made
many other sacrifices in the cause for which they were embodied.
About the same time, he received an order from the Duke of Kent,
authorizing him to enlist local troops. This order he obeyed ; and,
as we have been told, paid two pounds sterling of bounty to each
man from his own purse, until he had expended a great part of his
fortune. Whether he intended the money thus laid out as a gift to
s his country, we have not been informed at all events, it was never
;

^
returned to him and the consequence was, that his own private
;

', affairs began to assume an alarming appearance. His friends and

relations, perceiving this, frequently cautioned him that he would one
day or other involve himself in utter ruin by such folly and his;

brother, who was a partner with him in trade, fearing he might be

entangled with his creditors, suddenly withdrew his name from the
company. These circumstances, and some family disputes which oc-

curred about this time, induced his father to dispose of the tan-yard.
Our author then repaired to Edinburgh, where he was some time
employed in writing for a periodical work, published under the title of
the " Scottish Review." After being about one year in Edinburgh, he
obtained a commission in the Argyleshire Militia, and embarked with
his regiment for Ireland ; but before he had been long in that coun-
try, a severe malady, which had been for years gradually impairing

his health, now increased to such a height, that he found it necessary

to resign his commission. He then obtained the situation of tutor in
the family of Elliot Armstrong, Esq. of Donamon Castle, in the

county of Roscommon, in which capacity he acted for tw o years. He

afterwai-ds took up his residence in the town of Elphin —a bishop's
see in the county above mentioned —where ho endeavoured, by exer-
cise in the open air, to improve and invigorate his shattered constitu-
tion ; but the disease he was afflicted with, which was palsy, became
every day worse, and he returned to his native town, probably in the
expectation of deriving from his friends and relations that consola-
tion and support which he now so much needed. But Kilmarnock
to him was no longer the scene of prosperity. Those who courted
his society in his days of affluence, looked on him with indifference.

His father was tottering on the brink of the grave, and soon after

80
 JAMIE TAMSON.

died ; and his brothers and sisters secured to themselves all that re-
mained of the family property, and poor Thomson was left to struggle

through the world as he best could for subsistence. A^Tiile thus cir-

cumstanced, he married Widow Lewis, whose care and aifection for

him in his hours of trouble served, in some measure, to render more
cheerful and comfortable the few remaining years of his unfortunate
\

life. j

From his boyish days, Thomson was an occasional wooer of the )

muses ; and, during his wanderings in Ireland, he composed several

little poems, which, along with others, he now submitted to the public

in a small 18mo volume ; and, on the 8th of August of the same yeai"
(1817), he issued the first number of a periodical work, entitled the
" Ayrshire Miscellany ; or Kilmarnock Literary Expositor," which

\ continued to appear weekly till the beginning of May 1822. The

pi-ice of each number was twopence, and the circulation, we believe,
extended to almost every town and A^llage in the county of Ayr, and
to other places throughout the country. Kilmarnock at that time had
no newspaper or magazine, and the Ayrshire Miscellany was there-
\ fore the only local medium through which the literary aspirants in
the town and its neighbourhood could find publicity for their juve-

nile aspirations.* But, besides being instrumental in fostering the

rising genius of the place, the Miscellany must have tended, in no
small degi'ee, to cherish a taste for literary information among the
youth of Ayrshire, especially in those days when periodical literature
I

I
was less accessible to the bulk of the people than it is at the pre-

[ sent time. After a protracted illness, Thomson died on the 23d

July 1832.
I

\ John Kennedy, the author of " Jamie Tanason," was also a native
< of Kilmarnock, and a contributor to the Miscellany. He was bom in
1789, and became a weaver to trade. Naturally enthusiastic, he took
I

rather an active part in the political commotions of 1819, and involved !

I

himself in considerable trouble. Latterly he qualified himself as a i

teachej', and obtained the parish school of Kilsyth, where he died on !

* Soon after tlic appearance of Thomson's Miscellany, the " Kilmarnock Mir-
ror, or Literary Gleaner," was started but though it was conducted with con-
;

siderable taste and ability, it lived only about sixteen months. Other maga-
zines followed, but their existence was still more ephemeral.
 NA TO BE MAKKEIT AVA.

the 4th of October 1833, soon after he had revised the last proof sheet
of " Geordie Chalmers, or the Law in Glenbuckie," one of the most
] amusing of all his literary efforts.

iSa to be JWamtt ^ba.

Tune — Woo'd and Married, and a\

Our Girzie was now threttie sax,

Tho' sum estit mair did her ca'.

And ane quyte sae auld to get marreit.

Has little or na chance ava.

And Girzie aft thinkan on this,

Lang sichs frae her brisket wad draw ;

Och ! is it na awsum to think

I soudna be marreit ava ?

Na to be marreit ava,
Na to be marreit ava,
Och, is it na awsum to think,
I soudna be marreit ava ?

For ilka young lass that dow brag

Of her tholing a wooer or twa,
Sail hand out her finger, and say.

That bodie has got nane ava.

And then whan thay aw faw mari'cit,

Thair spouses sail let thame gang braw,

"WTiyle they lauch at auld maids lyke mysell.
For na Avinning onie ava.
Na to be marreit, &c.

82
 ;; . ; — ;

^1 NA TO BE HARRIET AVA.

Sum wyves ar wasters o' men,

Weir dune naething less nor thair twa
But this I wad haud a sin,
That ocht to be punisht be law.
For ar thay nae ineikle to wyte,

Whan sic to thaimsells they tak aw.

Neir thinkan o' monie an auld maid.
That's na to be marreit ava.
Na to be marreit, &c.

But as for the men that win wyves

Gin tho it war sum ayont twa,
I think thay soud aye be respeckit
For helping sae monie awa.
But a.s for the auld wantar bodies,
Thair necks ilka ane I dow thraw.
For what is the use of thau- lyves,
Gin na to be marreit ava.
Na to be marreit, &;c.

Och, gin I coud get but a carle,

Gin tho he war never sae smaw,

Juist gie me a chiellie, I'se tak him,
Tho jimp lyke a niannie ava.
Cum soutor, cum tailyour, cum tinklar,

Oh, cum onie ane of ye aw

Cum gie me a bode eir sae little,

I'se tak it and never sae na.

Na to be marreit, &c.

Cum deif, or cum dumm, or cum cripple,

Wi ae leg, or nae logs ava

Or cum ye wi ae ee, or nae ee,

I'se tak ye as reddie 's wi twa.

Cum young, or cum auld, or cum doytit,
Och, cum and j uist tak me awa
Far better be marreit to sumthing,
Than na to be marreit ava.

Na to be marreit, &c.
 ; ;

THE AYRSHIRE LADDIE.

\ Now, lads, gif tliair's onie amang ye,

I
Wad fain juist upon me to caw,
\ Yese get me na ill to be courtit,

I
For fykefacks — I cuist tliaim awa.

\ And gin ye soud want a bit wyfie,

I Ye ken to what quarter to draw
i And ein soud we na mak a bargain,
> Yese, at leist, win a kissie or twa,

\ Na to be marreit, &c. '(

\
The Editor of " The Book of Scottish Song" says — ^" This humorous
\

>, ditty was composed, about the year 1826 or 1827, by a young proba- \

i tioner of the Church of Scotland, a native of Ayrshire, who is now j

settled as minister of a parish in Aberdeenshire." This statement ;

I

\ was correct, in so far, some years ago. The author left the Establish- \

I
ment at the disruption, and is, consequently, not now a parish minis- |

ter. He is still, however, settled in Aberdeenshire. The song first j

appeared in a small weekly publication in Kilmarnock in 1827. It (

was subsequently copied into Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, with |

S some account of the author. Latterly it appeared in The Book of ':

\ Scottish Su7>.g. We now give it, considerably altered in language,

|

I Dr A. Craufurd of Lochwinnoch having rendered it into moi'e classi

> cal Scots.

^|)c ^r)rsf)irc Uatitiie.

My Jamie is a bonnic lad.

He often comes a courting O
The sicht him aye maks me glad,
o.'

But oh, when we were sporting O !

84
 ; ; —

«'-a;.cu

THE AYRSHIRE LADDIE.

My loupin breast to his he press'd,

He row'd me in his plaidie O ;

Pie held me there till I confess'd,

I dearly lo'ed the laddie 0.

He says I kill'd him wi' my e'en

His tale is ever ready O
He swears by a' the stars of heav'n,
That Nell shall be his ladie O.

Ilka lass is thrang engaged

Wi' some weel fassoun'd callan O ;

My neibours, Jess and Jean, are pledged

To marry Rab and Allan 0.

The English gii-ls are fond of John,

The Irish maids of Paddy ;

Jamie, give me, or give me none.

My bonnie Ayrshire laddie 0.

Ance I cross'd the raging sea

Frae Leith o'er to Kirkaldy ;

But ne'er a lad yet catch'd my e'e,

Like my dear Ayrshire laddie O.

At gloamin' we gaed down yestreen,

To ask my mam and daddy ;

And their consent was freely gi'en

They kent my lad was steady O.

There may be mony a richer pair,

And mony mae mair gaudy ;

O' love there few hae sic a share,

As Xell and her Ayrshire laddie O.

This song is from a stall collection, printed at Glasgow in 1816. We

knOAV not its paternity.

85
 ; ;

THERE 8 NAE BARD TO CHARM US NOW.

Slum's nae iSarU to (2rf)arm us Noto.

Air— Thei-e's nae Luck about the House.

There's nae bard to charm us now,

Nae bard ava,

Can sing a sang to Nature true,

Since Coila's bard's awa.

The simple harp o" earher days

In silence slumbers now ;

And modern art, Avi' tuneless lays,

Presumes the Nine to woo.

But nae bard in a' our Isle,

Nae bard ava,

Frae pauky Coila wons a smile

Since Robin gaed awa.

His hamely style let Fashion spurn ;

She wants baith taste and skill

And wiser should she ever turn,

She'll sing his sa-ngs hersel'.

For nae sang sic pathos speaks,

Nae sang ava
And Fashion's foreign rants and squeaks
Should a' be drumm'd awa.

Her far-fetch'd figures aye maun fail

To touch the feeling heart,

86
 ;

THERE S NAE BARD TO CHARM TJS NOW.

Simplicity's direct appeal,

Excels sic learned art.

And uac modern minstrel's lay,

Nae lay ava,

Sae powerfully the heart can sway
As Robin's that's awa.

For o'er his nmnbers Coila's muse

A magic influence breathed,
And round her darling poet's brows
A peerless crown had wreathed.

And nae wreath that e'er was seen,

Nae wreath ava,
Will bloom sae lang's the holly green
O' Robin that's awa.

Let Ei'in's minstrel. Tommy Moore,

His lyrics sweetly sing
'T would lend his harp a higher power
Would Coila add a string.

For nae hai-p has yet been kent,

Nae hai"p ava.
To match the harp that Coila lent
To Robin that's awa.

And though our shepherd, Jamie Hogg,

His pipe fu' sweetly plays,
It ne'er will charm auld Scotland's lug
Like Ploughman Robin's lays.

For nae pipe will Jamie tune,

Nae pipe ava,
Like that which breath'd by ''
Bonnie Doon,
Ere Robin gaed awa.

Even Scotland's pride. Sir Walter Scott,

Wlio boldly strikes the lyre,

i 87
 JMaun yield to Robin's sweet lovo-note
His native wit and fire.

Foi" nae bard hath ever sung,

Nae bard ava,

In hamely or in foreign tongue

Like Robin that's awa.

Frae feeling heart Tom Campbell's lays

In classic beauty flow,
But Robin's artless sang displays
The soul's impassion'd glow.

For nae bard by classic lore,

Nae bard ava,

Has thrill'd the bosom's inmost core
Like Robin that's awa.

A powerfu' harp did Byron sweep,

But not wi' happy glee ;

And though his tones were strong and deep,

He ne'er could change the key.
For nae bard beneath the lift,

Nae bard ava,

Wi' master skill the keys could shift,

Like Robin that's awa.

He needs nae monumental stanes

To keep alive his fanie ;

Auld Granny Scotland and her weans

Will ever sing his name.

For nae name does Fame record,

Nae name ava.
By Caledonia mair adored.
Than Robin's that's awa.

Jamks Stirrat, the author of this song, was one of the most enthusi-
astic admirers of tlie Ayrshu-e Poet, and has celebrated his praise in

88
 ; ; ;

NAEBODY WILL LET THE AULD BACHELOR A-BE.

< several songs and odes of no ordinary merit. Pie was bom in Dairy

i in 1781, of which place he was long postmaster. His father, the late

\ James Stirrat, merchant in Dairy, was a man of respectable charac-

j ter, and had considerable talent for business.

< The subject of the present notice was educated at the parish
;. school of Dairy, and early showed an inclination to cultivate the muse.

\
When he was about seventeen years of age, he composed several

I
pieces on subjects of a local and personal character, which evinced no
\ small degree of power, and were much admired among his friends.

He has written songs to several popular Scottish melodies, which only

I
re(j[uire to be known to insure popularity ; but, though often solicited,
he always declined coming before the public, in his own name, as an
author. As a proof of Mr Stirrat"s admiration for Burns, we may
mention that he wrote songs for the Anniversary of the Poet, for the
years 1827, 1828, 1829, and 1830, all of which are conceived in excel-
lent taste, and have an originality which many of the productions on
similar occasions confessedly w^ant.

T^acbotrg toiU let t\)t ^ulti ^acj^clor a=ht.

Let me soop in my house, an riddle the aas,

Let me rub up the chairs, and dust doon the wa's
Altho' I should scrub till the day that I dee,
Naebody will let the auld bachelor a-be.

When I gang hame at nicht, I dinna sit doon,

An rake up the doin's o' a' folks in toon
But I kennel the fire, and mask my drap tea
Yet they winna let the auld bachelor a-be.

Is't because I ha'e na a drab o' a wife

To clash wi' her neebours, an raise meikle strife
 ; ; ; —

DRUCKEN JOCK.

Or nurse greetan weans wi' the tear in my ee ?

that they wad let the auld bachelor a-be.

1 gang to the kirk as ilk Sabbath comes roon,

I meddle wi' nane, yet they say I'm a loon
That I guid am for naething, an' worthy to dee—
Naebody will let tlie auld bachelor a-be.

I see there's nae en' to their spite an' their spleen,

It racks me at morn, an' it racks me at e'en

To stop a' their jibes I'll just marry D. D.,

For she promised to let the auld bachelor a-be.

R. Ramsay, Glasgow, at once the subject and the author of the

foregoing lines, after holding out gallantly for a length of time in his
bachelorship, has at length been compelled to surrender to a " fair de-
ceiver."

BY JOHN MORE,
Author of " Says I, quo' I," in the First Series.

They ca' me drucken Jock

That may a' bo true—
I neither beg nor steal,
Although I'm sometimes fou.

I'm neither lame nor lazy,

And I pay for what I drink ;

There's no sae mucklo odds o' fock

As ane wad think.

90
 ; — ;

DRUCKEN JOCK.

Ae night no lang sin syne,

I had got a drappie,
When doitin' hame's I might,

Unco fou and happy,

I chanced to meet Mess John,
He blamed me for the drink ;

But there's no sae muckle odds o' fock

As ane wad think.

Neist Friday in the toon,

I saw the reverend man
Stoitin' frae an inn,
As fou as he could stan'.
I drew up to his side,

And wi' a cunning wink,

Said, " there's no sae muckle odds o' fock

As ane wad think."

The laird o' Birlieha,

Ane eller o' the kirk.

Says he eanna thole ava
This odious drucken wark.
He was drunk yestreen,
And fell into the sink ;

Sae there's no sae muckle odds o' folk

As ane wad think.

Hypocrisy I hate.

And slander I detest

Faut's shou'dna a' be tell't —
And mine amang the rest.
When ane reviles anither.

Judgment haud a blink ;

For there's no sae muckle odds o' fock

As ane wad think.

We a' hae our draff pocks

Some firmly stuffed nae doubt
Ithers torn and patcht
Wi' mony a steek and clout.

91
 ; :; —;

O NATURE LAVISHED ON MY LOVE.

A' are nearly fou,

Lippin' wi' the brink
Sae there's no sae muckle odds o' fock

As ane wad think.

<© jBaturc Uabisijeti on my ILobt.

O nature lavished on my love

Each charm and winning grace

It is a glad thing to sad eyes
To look upon her face
She's sweeter than the sunny air,

In which the lily springs ;

While she looks through her clustering hair,

That o'er her temples hings,

I'd stand and look on my true love
Like one grown to the ground
There's none like her in loveliness,
Search all the world around.

Her looks are like the May-day dawn

"When light comes on the streams ;

Her eyes are like the star of love.

With bright and amorous beams.
She walks —the blushing seems bi*ook-rose

Unworthy of her foot

She sings — lark that hearkens her
^the

Will ever more be mute,

For from her eyes there streams such light,

And from her lips such sound ;

There's none like her in loveliness,

Search all the world around.

92
 ——

O NATURE LAVISHED ON MY LOVE.

Hei* vestal breast of ivoiie,

Aneath the snowy lawn,
Shows with its twin-born swelling wreaths,
Too pure to look upon ;

While through her skin her sapphire veins

Seem violets dropt in milk.

And tremble with her honey breath
Like threads of finest silk ;

Her arms are long, her shoulders broad,

Her middle small and round
The mould was lost that made my love,
And never more was found.

Allan Cunningham modernised these verses from the original by

Alexander Montgomerie of Hesilheid, author of " The Cherrie and
the Slae," of whom we gave some account in the former Series of the
Ballads and Songs. In the " Flyting" between Hume of Polwart
and Montgomerie, allusion is frequently made by the former to Mont-
gomerie's visits to the Highlands, such as

" Into Argyle some lair to leir," &c.

*******
" In Argyle, amang gaites he gead witliiu glennes."

" Erse slaiker, gleyd glaiker, roonie raiker, for releife."

Neither Dr Irving, nor any of the other biographers or commen-

tators on the works of Montgomerie, have assigned any reason for
the Poet's sojonrnings in the Highlands, and we have been led to
regard the allusions of Hume as the license of poetic banter. Dr
Crawfurd of Lochwinnoch, however, who has devoted much attention
to family research, enables us to add a new fact to the scanty mate-
rials illustrative of the life of Montgomerie. Amongst the Craigend's
papers, he found a contract of marriage betwixt James Craufurd of
Auchinames and Elizabeth, " dochter of William, Erie of Glencairn"

—dated Sept. 1579 — in which reservation is made " to Geillis Conyng-

hame, relict of umql. Johnnc Crawfurd of Auchinames, hir lyfrent and
hir Terce," &c. ;
" and siclyke rescrvand to Dame Marioun Mont-
gomerie, Lady of the Sldpinnmagc, hir lyfrent of 27 bolls victuall,
togiddir with thrie dussane of capownes and henis quhilk scha hes,
in Terce, furth of the saidis 21 merkland of Corsbie," &c. This Ma-

93
 — ; ;

TAM O THE DOWN.

rioun Crawfurd, Lady Shqmcss, or Slipphwnagc, was one of the \

Hesilheid family, and very likely aunt of the poet, with whom he \

probably passed some of his earlier years. Hume also alludes to

\

his having been in Dumbarton

" From Semples dytenients of au horse, did die,
Of Porterfieldes, that dwelt into Dumbartane," &c.

Sempill of Fullwood, Renfrewshire, had some property in Dumbar-

tonshire, and the family lived in the town of Dumbarton for several
t generations. Montgomerie must have been many times in that town
< on his way to Skipness. in Cowal.

Whare Girvan stream, amang its braes,

E-ins rowin' to the sea

AVhare mony a stately castle stands,

An' mony a bonny tree.

Young Tammie liv'd : the fire o' youth

Shone in his hazel ee.

An' he has tauld his auld mither

That mariied he will be.

Be counsell'd weel, my bonny son,

O ! counsel take frae me,

An' dinna join in wedlock bands
These twa lang years or three.

For women's hearts, my bonny son,

Are deeper than the sea

An' darker far than Burchill taps.
That touches the star's e'ebree.
 ; ;; ;

TAM O THE DOWN

An' though their love is easy won,

'Tis unco ill to keep ;

An' ye may yet, my dearest son,

O'er a fause maiden M'eep.

Let heather bloom on high hill taps,

An' hair sprout on your chin

Then ye may gang an' try your skill
A maiden's heart to win.

But dinna gang, my bonnie son.

To court Ann o' Drumfaim ;

Tho' weel I ken ye like the lass

Aye sin' she was a bairn.

she has cauldness in her looks

To ane o' your degree ;

An' hear what your auld mither says,

She's no a match for thee.

Tam o' the Down, my bonny son.

Be counsell'd weel by me
An' marry na, gin ye are wise.
These twa lang years or three.

But mither, mithei', I gaed yestreen

To see Ann o' Drumfairn
An' I hae promised to her father,
To marry his bonny baini.

did ye ask her ain consent,

An' see love in her ee ?
An' did ye plant on her rosy lips

The sweet, sweet kisses three ?

1 strove to kiss her rosy lips.

She baud me haud awa'
I ask'd the lassie's ain consent,

She gied a loud gaflfa'.

95
 ; ; ;

TAM O THE DOWN.

Quo' she, I'll marry Tam o' the Down

Wlien comes the dark blue snaw,

When the sun quats blinking bonnily,
AVlien stars begin to fa'.

I gript her in my faulded arms

She sprang out like the moon,
When sailing through a feathery cloud.

In a bonny night o' June.

I said, Ye are ower modest, Ann,

Your father kens fu' weel.
An' baud me gang an' speak to you.

An' a' my love reveal.

An' for thee, my love, shall na waste,

While there is earth or air
say thou lik'st me, bonny Ann,
An' ease my mind o' care.

1 saw the blood come to her cheek,

The lightning to her ee
She left me like a cloud o' mist.

An' I'm come hame to thee.

Tam o' the Down, my ae dear son.

Be counsell'd weel by me ;

If e'er ye marry Drumfairn Ann,

Ye'll rue it till ye die.

Gae bid the moon to fauld her light

Aye in a gloomy cloud.

The wee, wee modest blinking star

For aye its brightness shroud ;

The primrose never mair to bloom,

The wind nae mair to blow.
An' Girvan's stream, amang its braes,

Frae this time ne'er to flow.

96

*o •fSiv
 ; ;

TAM THE DOWN.

The lark to leave the morning cloud,

An' sing on the forest tree ;

The wee brown moudiewort to soar

Amang the clouds sae hie

The salmon and the bonny trout,

To leave the stream sae clear.
An' wanton on the sunny hill,
Or sleep 'mang scented bi'ier.

An' sooner will these wonders be

Than I cease loving Ann ;

O, mither, it's a heavenly sight.

To see her milk white han' !

Go chain the billows to the deep

An' bid them chafe no more :

Vain were the thought — I'll love my Ann

Till waves shall cease to roar.

O dinna say she likes na me,

For that will burst my heart
But bless me wi' thy kindly smile.
Ere frae thy care I part.

Ye've seen a low'ring summer morn

Turn out a bonny day,
An' Ann may be a gude gudewife :

" O Tam, I wish she may:

" But my dear, kind, and bonny boy.

Thou art thy mither's bairn,

An' my heart bleeds to think that thou

Hast woman's ways to learn.

" But hear me ance, and this is a'

I'll ever speak to thee ;

Ne'er build your hopes on woman's words

But mark her kindly ee.

N 97
 ; :

TAM O THE DOWN.

" An' dinna think a lassie loves

Whene'er you are sincere ;

You canna bid the wind to blow,

When nae wind flutters near.

" An' can ye force a maiden fair

To love you —na, na, na

Drumfairn Ann will ne'er be yours,
Till comes the dark blue snaw.

" An' ye'll look lang, lang to the north

Before that hour arrive ;

O never think on Drumfairn Ann,

If e'er ye wish to thrive,"

Thus did the kindly mother speak,

While tears did blin' her ee ;

An' while she gaz'd upon her son.

They drapt, drapt on her knee.

But love had bound the stripling's heart

Finn in its cruel chain ;

For all his mother said, her words

Fell on his ear in vain.

He went to see Drumfairn Ann,

When the moon rose 'yont the hill

But hooly, hooly came he back

His mither's door until.

His love met but a cauld return,

He got nae love ava ;

Whene'er he said he lik'd her weel,

She gied her auld gaffa.

His spirits sank to sad despair,

His form to skin an' bane :

In twa three weeks Tam o' the Down

Could hardly gang his lane.

98
 ; —— ;

THE HILLS OF GALLOWAY.

In twa three mae the gowans grew

Aboon hisnew made grave
An' wails for him the music sweet

O' Girvan's murmuring wave.

Baith auld an' frail his mither wags

About the Burchill braes,
All' thinks ujjon Drumfaim Ann
As the source o' a' her waes.

The lark ye may wile frae the sky,

When sweet's the morning air

But never frae the heart the grief

That's fixt there by despair.

The ballad of " Tain o' the Down" appeared, with the initials " J. B."
attached, in the Dumfries Monthly Magazine for 1826. The places <

referred to —both Down and Drumfairn —are in the immediate neigh-

|

bourhood of Girvan. The fate of the too fond lover is probably no \

fiction ; but we are not aware of the cli'cumstances-

^t)c l^ills of CSallotong.

Farewell, ye Hills of Galloway,

Where I've been wont to stray

Farewell, ye Hills of Galloway,

My home of childhood's day
A distant land now claims me.
But thither though I roam.
My throbbing heart will beat with joy.
For thee, my hilly home !

99
 ———— —

mW
THE HILLS OF GALLOWAY.

Ye heather Hills of Galloway

Ye woods of oak and pine
Ye little foaming cataracts
Ye all are friends of mine !

The eagle haunts your highest peak

The swan your lake below ;

And herds of stately deer are fed

Where Fleet's dark waters flow !

Ye cloud-capt Hills of Galloway,

Where wildest breezes blow,
The mists of heav'n that rest on yon
A weather-beacon show.
The peasant dwelling in the vale,
Reads in each rock and dell

Aerial lore — vicissitudes

That coming change foretell.

Ye ancient Hills of Galloway,

How changed your aspect now,
Fix>m what it was in former times —
"Wlien round your rugged brow
One universal forest waved,
The native moose-deer's home,
And where the hardy wild Scot loved
In liberty to roam !

Ye ancient Hills of Galloway,

How proudly now ye rise

Above the rude and lonely graves

Of former enemies !

How proudly now your bosoms swell

In freedom's present hour
Though studded close with remnants still

Of what was Roman power.

Ye sea-girt Hills of Galloway,

How nobly forth ye stand

100
 — ; ! ; ;

As if defying ev'iy foe

To gain your ancient strand.
There's liberty in ev'ry bi'eath
That stirs your forest tree !

There's liberty in ev'ry wave

That greets you from the sea

Then farewell ! farewell ! Galloway,

My blessing with thee rest
I go to visit other climes
I go to be their guest,
For not another spot shall claim

A dearer name from me,

My only true —my native home.
Sweet Galloway — thee.
is

" The Hills of Galloway" are by William, eldest son of the poet and
I
antiquary, Joseph Train, author of a " History of the Isle of Man,"
\
" The Buchanites," and various other publications.

To an Irish Air.

Larghan Clanbrassil, how sweet is thy sound

To my tender remembrance as Love's sacred ground
For there Marg'ret Caroline first charm'd my sight.

And fiU'd my young heart with a flutt'ring delight.

When I thought her my own, oh ! too short scem'd the day

For a jaunt to Downpatrick, or a trip on the sea;
To express what I felt then, all language was vain,
'Twas in truth what the poets have studied to feign.

101
 ; ; ;

But too late I found, even she could deceive,

And nothing was left but to weep, sigh, and rave
Disti'acted I fled from my dear native shore,
Resolv'd to see Larghan Clanbrassil no more.
Yet still, in some moments, enchanted' I find

A ray of her fondness beam soft on my mind

Wliile thus in bless'd fancy my angel I see,
All the world is a Larghan Clanbrassil to me.

These truly lyrical lines were written by James Boswell of Auch-

inleck, the biographer of Johnson. They appeared in a thin 8vo,

entitled " Songs, chiefly in the Scottish Dialect," published anony-

mously in 1803, by his son, tlie late Sir Alexander Boswell of Auchin-
leck, Bart. The scene of the verses is in Ireland.

Air —Altered from one in an Italian Opera.

Letmy lass be young, my wine be old,

My cottage snug, friends never cold,
My life no tedious tale twice told,
And happy shall I be.

Tempt me not with pageant power,

Giveme not the miser's hoard ;

May contentment cheer my bower,

And plenty deck my board.

The selfish wretch in pride may roll,

And v-iands cull from pole to pole

My purse shall serve each kindred soul
And set the hapless free.

102
 ;

RURAL LIBERTY.

Then, when partial fate has given

These, with health to taste the store,

Earth itself becomes a heaven,
And nought to wish for more.

The late Sir Alexander Boswell of Auchinleck, Bart., wrote this song.

We copy it, because it is not so well known as his more popular songs
''
—such as " Auld Gudeman ye're a Drucken Carle," " Jenny's Baw-
bee," &c. It is something in the strain of Pope's "Wish" —composed,
it is said, when he was fourteen years of age. Sir Alexander is well
known as the author of a number of poetical effusions of no ordinary
merit.He was born in 1775, and fell in a duel with James Stuai't of

Duneam in 1822.

laural Hibtrtg.

Air — Scotland Yet.

Let grandeur brag o' mansions fine

O' couch and cai-pet rare,

0' bed o' down, and silks that shine,

Gie me the open air

The air, the open air, for me,
The air that's unconfined,
Whar mind and body baith are free-

As free's the rust'ling wind ;

I'll struggle wi' my latest breath

For air that's unconfin'd.

Wha can enjoy life's cheering sweets

Unless he strolls the fields,
 ; ; ; ;

And gazing, gath'ring, gratefu' greets

The flowers his roaming yield
—
The fields the fragrant fields are mine —
Whae'er their owners be
Let heartless pomp in castles pine,
But gie the fields to me ;

I'll love t'range the open fields

Until the day I dee.

The daisy peeps out o' the lawn,

The primrose frae the dell,
Wi' simmer morning's earliest dawn
Up springs the proud blue bell
The heather, too, expands it's flower
Whene'er the sun looks down ;

The stately fox-glove courts the shower,

And smiles at Nature's frown

I glory to sun^ey them all,

And think I wear a crown.

The burnie trickles down the hill,

And dives frae rock to linn,

It's bright foam bells are never still

And ceaseless is its din.

Wi' wid'ning wave fast through the glen

It steals wi' modest grace,

While far awa it's winding den

Wi' gladsome ee I trace,

Till in the ocean's heaving breast

It meets a fond embrace.

The feather'd warblers swell their throats

On twig and soaring wing.
In social concert join their notes

A mirthful glee to sing.

The bleating flocks and lowing kine

Carrol upon the lee

104
 ! —

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

The wee, wee fishes sparkling shine,

And skim the fountain free —

I echo the undying theme,
Hurra for liberty

Hugh Craig, merchant, Kilmarnock, is the author of " Rural Liberty."

He has written several clever things for the local prints, and at one
time made a considerable figure as a political speaker —ranking on the
liberal or rather radical side.

"S^tc %mti o' OTIbangue.

There a preacher in our chapell,

is
And the live lang day teaches he
a' :

When the day is gane, and the night is come,

There's ne'er ae word I mark but three

—
The first and second is Faith and Conscience,
—
The third ne'er let a Traitour free
—
;

But, Johnnie what faith and conscience was thine,

When thou took awa my three kye frae me ?
Border Minstrelsy.

In Changue ance dwalt a worthy man.

And a buirdly carl was he ;

At kirk or market, far nor near,

His like ye might not see.

And Changue he was a right rich man.

His flocks spread far and wide.
For they cover't a' the hills o' Barr,
And down by the Stinchar side.

Yet free was his honest heart o' pride.

And kindly to a' the poor,

And mony a bennison blest his head
As alms were gien at his door.

105
 ;

And Changue was a pious guidly man,

For aft, at the day's decline,
He raid to the Alti-kirk* to pay
His devoirs at our lady's shrine.

And aye as before the haly cross

He kneel'd sae reverently,

Auld father Grub, the parish monk,
Looket on wi' a greedy e'e.

" Wliat brings ye sae aften," says father Grub,

" To bend the penitent knee,
I fear ye hae done some evil deed
You hae nae confess'd to me.

" And well ye ken that never a sin

Ye may hope to be forgiven,

Till confession be made, and penance done,

And mass prevail with heaven."

" If feedin' an' cleedin' the naked poor,"

Says Changue, " be an evil deed.

And thankin' heaven that gies the power,

My weix'd will be ill to rede

" But of nae ither ill, I ween.

Need I confession give.
Nor need they penance wha like me
In pious duty live."

Ye sin, ye sin," ciies father Grub,

"

" And an heretic near ye be,

Ye squander your gear on the worthless poor.

But it's little ye gie to me.

* " Jlti-kirh" —
so called from its elevated position amongst the hills of Car-
rick. Its ruins stand on the farm of Knockgirran, parish of Barr, by the side
of the little romantic glen of Pinwhapple. When
in its " pomp and pride of
place" before the Reformation, it was, in all probability, a dependency of the
neighbouring Abbey of Crossraguel.

i 106
 :

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

" \Vlia gies to the kirk, to our lady lends.

And lays up a haly store ;

But ten merks and acht pecks o' groats,

You never have gien me more."

" Ten merks but an' acht pecks o' groats

Are a' that the kirk may claim,
And weel are ye paid I wat," says Changue,
" If aye ye get that same."

" Ye sin, ye sin," the monk replied,

" And penance sair maun dree,
Sae hearken your doom, ye heretic carl,

The will o' heaven, frae me

" The morning sun maun see you boun'

For fair Crossraguel's* pile ;

And the hour o' noon maun hear you knock

At the haly abbot's stile.

" And ye maun bring the evangels four

Frae aff Saint Mary's shrine,
That I may teach you a' their store

Of truth and light divine.

" And ilka night, as the sun gaes down

O'er Arran's ocean isle.

You'll meet me, at the Alti-kirk,

Whate'er the pain or toil."

* Crossragiiel Abbey, now in ruins, is in the parish of Kirkoswald. It

stands in a plain by the roadside, between the village of Kirkoswald and May-
bole, and still presents an imposing and interesting appearance.
This Abbey was founded by Duncan, Earl of Carrick, according to some au-
thorities, in 1144:, and to others, in 1240. In 1561, the celebrated Abbot of
Crossragiiel, " Master Quentin Kennedy" disputed for three days in Maybole
with John Knox the Reformer.
Quentin Kennedy, according to Douglass and Crawford, died in 1564. His
successor in office, Allan Stewart, was the well known victim roasted in the
" Black Vout" at Dunure, by Gilbert, fourth Earl of Cassillis.

107
 ; ; ; ;

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

Changue sought his hame, and lang ere noon

He stood at the abhot's door
And fifty merks he had to tell
For the evangels four.

Then hame he came to father Grub,

And a weary man was he

As roun' the Alti-kirk he crap,
Fu' low on his bended knee.

And ilka night, at the twilight hour,

He thither did repair,
To con his lesson to father Grub,

"NVlia nightly met him there.

But never a word, or letter, e'er

Could Changue or learn or spell

For the beuks were written in French right fair,

By the friar o' Machry-Kill.*

But the monk aye read, and better than read.

An' storm'd and read again ;

That Changue might learn his wrath to dread.

He grudg'd nor toil nor pain.

" Oh ! wae be on your beuks o' lair',"

At length says weary Changue,

" For I'll be dead, e'er I see the end,
Of thir wearyfu' beuks and lang.

" I learn't to read, when I was young,

Of nature's sacred lore
But of flyting beuks, in a foreign tongue,

I never hae heard before !

* " At Machray-Kill, in the parish of Dailly, there was once a small chnrch
or chapel, probably dedicated to Saint Macarius," from whom the place derived
its present name.

108
 ;

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

" I ken the stams whilk tell the hours,

As blythely they look down,
And silently speak o' the haly powers
Wha rule and reign aboon.

" There's bless'd St Peter's staff o' strength,

And there's the starns seven,

And our lady's wand an ell o' length,
Whilk metes our deeds in heaven.

" And there's the plough gangs roun'

the north,
And tells the time o' night
And the bonny north-pole that sparkles forth—
The guide of ilk wandering wight.

" And I ken twa moons in ither's arms

Bode aye o' wind and rain ;

But weel do I like the braid hairst moon,

For she i-ipens and fills our grain.

" And there's the spunkie, witch and fay,

And the guid neighbours* dress'd in green
;

And then there's the water kelpie sly.

For I ken them ilka ane.

" And hare seen, on the sunny

summer days,
On Craiganrarie's hight,
The elves float past on the wee white cluds
Of the gossamer web sae light.

'' •'^ Fairyland which expressly forbids

'" ^^"^
.At
ns^ of t'^''^^ the
use the term
i Fairy by mortal,^r''
lips. In the north of Scotland, about twenty
-^ '*"'"y
'*'"'*" observed;
'"'''' and I recollect, in my boyish
ltf.\'^^1'
days, that wh.le
1 -f
roaming over the green knowes and valleys in search
of flow-
7"P^'"ons were perfectly acquainted with its proyisions.
Th^
ine popular
non-Jn'r form
f of the statute ran thus—
,

Mf ye ca's guid neighbours, guid neighbours

we will be :
Hut if ye ca's fairies, we'll fare you o'er the sea."

*° ^^'' mysterious announcement, it was always

siSv adS^'th'^t^lr
sagely added that they"^f-'l^*
did, on one occasion, make good their
threat. Having

109
 — —
; ; —

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

" I can read the corbies's eerie wail

And the rin of the startit hare

And the magpie's clamorous counsel tell,

But thir heuks I'll ne'er read mair."

" Well even's ye like," says father Grub,

" But hearken to my decree :

A hunner merks ye down maun pay,

For the trouble you've gien to me,

Forbye threescore o' ewes and lambs

To our haly abbot send
To pay for the shri\'in' o' your sin,
And a mass that ye may mend."

" Odsooks ! ye greedy monk," says Changue,

" I wonder'd you took sic pain ;

But it was nae that my puir saul was wrang.

But the greed o' your heart for gain.

" A hunner merks ye sail never get,

And the abbot for me ye'll tell

If a dinner of braxy please his pate.

He maun come for't liimsell."

" Swyth out o' my sight," says father Grub,

" With the foul thief ye hae been
See, see he's whisperin' in your lug.
And glowrin' frae your e'en !

" You've been with that apostate Knox,

While preachin' at the Bar ;*

been detected using the misnomer, a person was actually fared o'er the sea; and
what was still more terrible to youthful imagination to contemplate, the vessel
in which he was conveyed was no other than an egg shell.
At the time and place I allude to, both old and young had as much faith in
the existence of fairies as they had in their own. No man, for instance, would
put clean straw in his shoes at night, because the fairies would then undoubt-
edly come and dance in them the whole night nor would any spinster be so
;

hardy as to leave the band on her wheel, because the fairies would then most
assuredly come and spin till daybreak.
^
* The Bar Castle at Gralston, Ayrshire, was one of Wishart's preaching sta-
tions in the year 1545 and of Knox in 1582. In that year, the name of John Lock-

110
 ; ;

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

But soon I'll scatter your bonny flocks,

!"
An' boil your bouk in tar

The monk has gather'd the countryside

To the Alti-kirk by night
And there he has cursed* the laird of Changue,
By bell, book, and candle light.

And curs'd ilk ane soud wi' him speak,

Or wi' him soud buy or sell

Or in his face soud dare to keek.

Or tread on the samin hill.

And he has hired a gipsy band,

That fen'd in Pinwhapple glen,
To spulye his sheep, and herry his land,
And vex liim might and main.

Ane Rievcr Rab o' this band was chief,

And he was a desperate loon,

For he raised black mail o' mutton and beef
O'er a' the country roun'.

And fast by the side of Pinwhapple burn,

'Neath the Dow Craig's rugged steep.

hart of Bar appears as one of the seventy-eight " barons and gentlemen of Kyle,
Cunninghaine, and Carrick, professing the true evangel," who assembled at Ayr
and subscribed a bond " to maintain and assist the preaching of the holy evangel,
and the ministers of the same, against all persons, power, and authority, that
will oppose the self to the doctrine proponed and by us received," &c.
It appears strange, in our day, that Changue should have been accused of
being with Knox, when there is such a distance between the places mentioned ;

but it must be remembered that, in those days, when the light of truth was
only l)eginning to break in upon the mind-enslaved peasantry, it was no un-
common matter for the people to travel ten, twenty, or even thirty miles, to
hear a preacher of the true evangel.
* Rome has been more sparing in her maledictions than she was at the date
of the circumstance mentioned in the text. The last instance on record is as
late, however, as the year 1844, when Priest Walsh, in the gleus of Antrim in
Ireland, pronounced the greater excommunication against one of his congrega-
tion, because he had been caught reading the Bible in Irish to some of his ignor-
ant neighbours. This victim of priestly tyranny was a miller, and the priest
declared that '"he would make his mill as dry as the road;" but the times are
sadly altered. Priest Walsh was cited before a court of justice, and fined in
£70 damages and costs.

Ill
 ; ; —

O'erliung by the mountain ash and arn

His houf was houket deep.

And aye as the evening shadows crept,

Far up the woody glen,
On the green spy knowe a watch was kept,
To guard him and his men.

Now whan the laird afield did gang,

Sic thuds he had to dree •
Fra« stanes and clods, wi' mony a bang.
Yet fient ane could he see.

And round and round the house at night.

Sicawsome sounds were heard,
As if ilk corpse had i-isen in fright
And left Kirkdamdie yard.

The bauldest in the earldom,

Were like to swarf wi' fear
For they thought the "roarin' deil" was come,
To carry them to his lair.

Changue heard with awe the gathering host,

Yet whiles he'd bauldly say —

Were they men, instead of deils and ghosts,
He soon would end the fray.

For he had been a warrior brave

Had led a stalwart band ;

And fear'd nae danger in the field.

Nor strength of mortal hand.

At length he of the siege grew tired.

And vow'd to end the plight
And wi' a draught o' Hollands fired

His courage for the fight.

Then down he taks his auld claymore.

Steel-bonnet, spear, and mail,

112
 ;; !

THE LAIRD O' CHANGUE. fm

That aft had stood his stead before,

When many a mortal fell.

But, as in this dread fight of feinds

His harness was untried.
The four evangels, too, he finds,

Then out the hero hied.

Dark was the night, and round poor Changue

Loud rose a horrid yell
And stanes upon his corslet rang,
And pelted him pell-mell

" In name of the evangels four,

Ye ghaists and devils hear me :

I've sworn to gie your heads a clour,

If ye should daur to steer me.

" Ye maun be cowards, whan ye hap

By dykebacks, sheughs, and ditches ;

But come to Craiganrarie's tap.

Be ye deils, ghaists, or witches.

" And if there's in ye ony bluid,

I rede ye hae a care o't
Be't black, or white, or green, or red,
I vow I'll hae a share o't."

Then rose an eld rich hollow laugh,

Like echo from a cavern.
But nae ane spak, which mair than half
Set Changue's resolve a-waverin'.

But grasping firm his Carrick spear.

He kiss'd the four evangels.

Then vow'd the deil he dochtna feai",

Nor his maist gruesome angels !

P 113
 —— ; —

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

Then up the brae he nimbly scour'd,

And now and then he rested,
And warily around him glower'd
Lest, unawares, molested.

On Craiganraiie's tap at last

His feet he firmly planted,
Within twa rings* he fenced him fast,

Tlien showed a front undaunted.

^Vliiles in the dark he glower'd aroun'

Whiles to the left he glinted
Whiles watch'd their rising through the grun',
Till patience maist he tint it.

At length a rustlin' din he hears

Behind and eke before him
A closing ring of white appears,
Like ghaists wi' grave-claes o'er them.

Then, wi' a wild unearthly yell,

They closely gather'd near him ;

But, ere they wist, the foremost fell —

Changue mortally had spear'd him !

The trusty spear, an ell or sae,

Gaed through his body gorin'
An' heels-o'er-head quick doon the brae,
He row'd and tumbl'd roarin'.

* On the conical top of the green hill of Craganrarie, where the indomitable >

Changue took up his position, are two foot-prints, which tradition asserts to be ')

his, indented deeply in the surface, and around which, at about a sword's ;

length from the centre, are the " two rings" or circles which he drew tiround !

him, also strongly marked in the sward. Neither on them, nor on the foot- J

prints, does the grass ever grow, although it thrives luxuriantly around the very \

edges of the mysterious markings. \

In bygone times, when it was no uncommon thing to traflic in Satanic influ- i

ence, it was the universal practice to draw a circle of protection around the per- <

son of the conjuror, before summoning his sable majesty to appear, round and I

round which he still kept running so long as he was visible to mortal eyes.

114
 : ; ! —

THE LAIRD O CHANGUE.

Then Cliangue his twa-han'd falchion wheels

Around the ring he kept them,
Till heads frae half a score o' deils

Sae manfully he swept them.

But one remain'd, a gruesome fiend,

And hot and hard he press'd him ;

But though the outmost ling he gain'd,*

Changue soon and snodly dressed him.

For closing fast, at arms-length,

Wi' steeket gauntlet Changue drew
Ae stroke wi' sic prodigious strength
The deil's liarns fj-ae the pan flew

Thus Changue was master of the field,

Till dawn'd the morning light,

And then his wond'ring eyes beheld
A sad and woful sight

There Riever Bab and a' his men

Lay reft o' heads and breath
And the spear stuck fast in Father Grub,
Wha's eyes were seal'd in death !

The foregoing excellent ballad is by ]\Ir Hai'iison, bookseller, Edin-

burgh, who lived for some years in Ayrshire. It was written in illus-

tration of the tradition of the Laird of Changue's encounter with

the enemy of mankind, of which some notice is taken in the notes on
Kirhdamdie Fair in the First Series. It would seem that there wei'e
two Lairds of Changue distinguished for their personal prowess —the
one at a much earlier period than the other. The cii'cular appearances
on the spot, where the alleged conflict took place, are by no means
modern remains.

* Tradition affirms that tlie "great enemy" did break through the largest
or outside ring, and a corresponding break in the circle is shown but, before —
he could break the inner one, victory had declared for Changue I

IL^
 — —
; ; ;• ; ;

WHAT BIRD IN BEAUTY, FLIGHT, OR SONG.

M^at ^irti in SBcHUtg, Jpligbt, or ^ong.

What bii'd in beauty, flight, or song,

Can with the bard compare,
Who sang as sweet, and soar'd as strong
As ever child of air !

His plume, his note, his form could Burns,

For whim or pleasure, change ;

He was not one, but all by turns,

With transmigration strange : —
The blackbird, oracle of spring,
When flow'd his moral lay
The swallow, wheeling on the wing.
Capriciously at play :

The humming bird, from bloom to bloom,

Inhaling heavenly balm
The raven in the tempest's gloom
The halcyon in the calm : —
In "auld kirk AUoway," the owl.
At witching time of night
By " bonnie Doon," the earliest fowl

That carolled to the light.

He was the wren amidst the grove,

WTien in his homely vein ;

At Bannock-burn, the bird of Jove,

With thunder in his train :

The woodlark, in his mournful hours

The goldfinch in his mirth ;

116
 ; ! — —

W^HAT BIRD IN BEAUTY, FLIGHT, OR SONG.

The thrush, a spendthrift of his powers,

Eni'apturing heaven and earth.

The swan, in majesty and gi'ace,

Contemplative and still

But roused —no falcon in the chase

Could, like his satire, kill :

The linnet in simplicity ;

In tenderness the dove ;

But, more than all beside, was he

The nightingale, in love.

Oh ! had he never stoop'd to shame,

Nor lent a chami to vice,

How had devotion loved to name

That bird of Paradise ?

Peace to the dead ! —In Scotia's choir

Of minstrels, great and small.

He sprang from his spontaneous fire.

The Phoenix of them all

These much admired verses, " On the Anniversary of the Birth of

Burns," are the production of the well known " Christian Poet,"
James Montgojiery, a Scotsman by descent as well as bii'th. He
was born in Irvine, w'here his parents resided for some time. Several

}
years ago, the venerable author visited Scotland, after an absence of
more than half a century. He was publicly entertained at Glasgow

I
and the principal towns —including his native burgh —by large assem-
blies. At one of these meetings, he gave an account of his birth :

\ He was born in the town of Irvine, where his parents had for some
f years resided in connection with the Church of the United Brethren.
I When he was about four years and a half old, his parents left Irvine

I
and went to reside in the north of Ireland. His parents had been
bom in Ireland, but every drop of their blood was Scotch. They had
not corrupted the blood, and surely he might be allowed to say that he
was not aware that any thing tending to corrupt it had been done by

117
 WHAT BIKD IN BEAUTY, FLIGHT, OK SONG.

liim during his residence in Ireland or in England. When he was

about six years old, he was taken to England and placed at the semi-
nary of the United Brethren, where he attended for ten years. Dur-
ing that period, his parents had received a call from God to go and
preach the gospel to the degraded slaves in the West Indies. Both of
his parents had laid down their lives in the service of God, the one in
the island of Tobago, and the other in Barbadoes. When he was
about twenty-two years of age, through certain circumstances, he be-
came the proprietor of a newspaper, at a time when the evil and good
powers of men were warring with each other ; the good striving to
overcome the evil, which the revolutionary war had brought so promi-
nently abroad in this country. For thirty years he had continued in

that situation, as conductor of the newspaper; and, so far as his

public life was concerned, he was not conscious that, during that

whole period, lie had ever written or spoken against the peace and
quiet of the country, or of the town in which he resided. On his i-e-

tirement, every class in the town of Sheffield united in giving him a

public dinner, as a testimony that, however much they might have
differed from him in opinion, there was amongst all of them but one
feeling of good will towards him, and but one opinion as to the inte-
grity with which he had endeavoured to discharge his arduous duties
as an editor. Some of his more religious friends, who were absent \

from the dinner, and many of the better sex who could not attend, \

afterwards presented him with a sum of 200 guineas, to be applied to <

the revival of a mission which his father had begun in Tobago, but ^

which had been suspended for about thirty years. This mission it

was the wish of the Brethren to renew. The p]-oprietor of the estate

on which it was situated, was also desirous for its success, and had in- i

vited his father to establish it ; and, in his will, ho bequeathed £1000, \

contingent on the renewal of the mission. This gentleman, whose

name showed him to be a Scotchman, was anxious that his people

should have the benefit of religious instruction. The 200 guineas

given him were to be added to the sum left by Mr Hamilton ; and
the gift was accompanied by the delicate request, that the renewed
mission should be distinguished by the name of his father, the labourer
who had first broken the ground and therefore Montgomery would be
;

the name, he hoped, to the end of the world.

118
 ; : ; —

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

JOHN PATERSON'S MARE.

In the former Series of the Ballads and Songs, we gave, from oral re-
citation, a few couplets of this cuiious ditty, with a tradition that they
were composed on an ancestor of the Patersons of Ballaird, in Colmo-
nell parish, when proceeding through Ayr, at the head, of the Carrick ^

Covenanters, to the hattle of Bothwell Brig. We had not access, at

the time, to Hogg's " Jacobite Relics," published in 1821, where, in

the notes to the " Battle of Sheriifmuir," the Editor remarks, in refer-
ence to a parody on My Wife's a Wanton Wee Thing, that " the tune

is very old." It was played at the taking away of every bride for cen-
turies before that period, and was called, '
She's yours, she's yours,
she's nae mair ours.' Long after the existence of this name to it, but
still long previous to the battle of Sheriffmuir, it got the name of
John Patersons Mare, from a song that was made on a wedding
bruise, or horse race for the bride's napkin. Some of the old people,
in my parent's days, always called it byname but, even
its primitive ;

with the name of John Paterson's Mare, it was always played at the
taking away of a bride even in my own time. The ballad has a great
deal of merit for a composition of that day."
Some misunderstanding having occurred as to the proper set of the
tune, Hogg, in proof of the accuracy of his opinion on the subject,

subjoins a part of one of the old songs, though not the original one :

John Paterson's mare

She canna he here,
We nouther hae stable nor hay for her
Whip her in, whip her out,
Sax shillings in a clout
Owre the kirk stile an' away wi' her,
Fy whip her in, &c.
The black an' the brown
Ran nearest the toun,
But Paterson's mare she came foremost
The dun an' the gray
Kept farrest away,
But Paterson's mare she came foremost.
Fy whip her in, whip her out,
Sax shillings in a clout,
Owre the kirk stile an' away wi' her,
Fy whip her in, &c.

119
 ;

The bay an' tlie }-ellow,

They skimmed like a swallow,
But Paterson's mare she came foremost
The white an' the blue
They funkit an' flew,
But Paterson"s mare she came foremost.
Fy whip her in, &c.

We gave the tradition alluded to in the First Series, on the author-

ity of a descendant of the Patersons of Ballaird, and see nothing in
Hogg's note to disprove it. The " part of the old song" he adduces is

" not the original one," the tune, as he tells us, having been played

under a different name at weddings, " long previous to the battle of

Sheriffmuir." The Ballaird tradition assigns the origin of " Pater-
son's Mare" to the rislnx/ at Bothwell Brig, in 1679, and being com-
posed to the same tune, may, with verbal alterations and additions,
have superseded the old words, " She's yours," &c. It is to be re-
gretted that Hogg did not give the whole of the song. Probably it

was not in his power.

" SCOFFING BALLAD."

In putting our remarks upon this ballad (p. 54) to press, we over-
I

i looked one or two facts of some interest. The lines —

And Orangefield, Dalrymple call'd,
Frae Finlaj'son, or some sic fauld"—
> were evidently in allusion to the fact, that the Earl of Glencaira and
\
Hew Dalrymple of Orangefield were married to two sisters, daughters
j
of Hew M'Quyre of Drumdow, in Stair or Ochiltree parish.* They
were of humble birth — their grandfather, and probably their father

I
also, in his earlier years, having been violin players in Ayr. They owe
I
their rise in the world to the gratitude of one James Macrae, who,
i when a poor orphan, was taken notice of by the elder M'Quyre, and
kept for some time at the school. Macrae went to sea, and gradu-
I

\
ally rose in the world, till he attained the high position of Govei'nor
of Madras. On his return to Scotland, with immense wealth, he sought
out the family of his benefactor, and, not being married himself, left

them the whole of his fortune. Finlaystoun, in Renfrewshu-e, was the

seat of the Earl of Glencairn.

* There is a property in each of these parishes called Drutndow.

PRINTED BY ANDREW MURRAY, MILNE SQUARE, EDINBURGU.

120
'2 f33

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