I've gi'en my heart to the lad I loe'd, Then twine it weel, my bonny dow, And twine it well, the plaiden ; He prais'd my een sae bonny blue, But he has left the lass he loo'd, Then twine it weel, &c. VI. SONG TO MARGARET. In summer when nature her mantle displays, How pleasant, at evening, on Cartha's green banks, How sweet 'tis to look at the red blushing cloud, And smile of the azure blue sky, But sweeter, far sweeter, the blush on thy cheek, And sweeter the smile of thine eye. And when in the bosom of ocean the sun Still lovely the scene, when by moonlight beheld, But what are the richest and loveliest scenes, If wanting my Margaret, nor art can excel, VII. THE ORPHAN BOY. Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake, L Poor foolish child! how pleased was I The people's shouts were long and loud; Why are you crying thus," said I, "What is an orphan boy?" I cried, Oh were I by your bounty fed! Trust me, I wish to earn my bread; VIII. THE BATTLE OF BUSACO.* AIR.-" Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled." Beyond Busaco's mountains dun, High on the heath our tents were spread, We are not prepared at present with certainty to affirm who may have been the author of this excellent song. Were we, however, to hazard a conjecture, we would ascribe it to the pen of Mr. J. Hogg, more generally known by the familiar appellation of "The Ettrick Shepherd." To this we are induced both from the internal evidence which the piece itself exhibits, and by its appearance first of all in the Spy, a periodical work published in Edinburgh, of which Mr. Hogg was himself the Editor. The loud war trumpet woke the morn, The serried bay'nets glittering stood, Reel'd in the flickering canopy. Whoever may have been the author, The Battle of Busaco is a song of considerable merit, and undoubtedly the production of a master in poetry. It is evidently done in the style of Mr. Campbell's Hohenlinder, and though the imitation must be acknowledged to be in some respects inferior to the model, yet still it possesses particular, nay even distinguished excellence in its kind. By a variety of bold picturesque allusions, expressed by terms most appropriate and impressive, the poet introduces, describes, and concludes the interesting scenes of action, of contest, and of death. With a concern which it is utterly impossible to suppress, we hear the awfully comprehensive signal to engage, "Arouse for death or victory." In harsh grating sounds, which enter the very soul, we are informed of legions "Rushing to the dreadful revelry," while the poet in a manner highly significant, personifies "Red Ruin riding triumphantly." The whole, in fact, is a highly finished effusion, eminently calculated to commemorate the affair to which it refers, and by its impulse to rouse the undaunted and heroic to the boldest "Feats of chivalry." |