Ye lowlier bards that wake the lyre
An' seek to share the sacred fire,
See that ye touch the trembling wire
Owre Scotland's bonnie hawthorn.
Sing sweetly o' ilk glen an' shaw,
Ilk river, stream, and waterfa',
Sing o' her wild flowers ane an' a',
But dinna pass the hawthorn.
And while her thistle still shall wave,
While heathbells mark the martyr's grave,
May truest loves their memories leave
Beneath the bonnie hawthorn.
TO J. LAURIE, ESQ., J.P., LAURIETON,
NEW SOUTH WALES.
After reading "Songs from the Mountains," by Henry Kendall, * presented by Mr Laurie to the writer.
DEAR friend and brother on a distant shore,
Now that thy many wanderings are o'er,
Now that thy throbbing bosom findeth rest
'Mong friends to thee the kindest and the best;
Accept my thanks, record my meed of praise
To thee o'er thy own Kendall's noble lays.
"Songs from the mountains," beautiful indeed-
Like sparkling stream from wintry fetters freed-
Now speeding on its way, majestic, grand,
Like to the Garry of our own dear land;
Then resting calmly, like the placid lake,
When Autumn's suns of her a mirror make;
Then waking into sweet and soothing tune-
As thou hast heard the Ayr and "bonny Doon."
*The late Henry Kendall, the eminent Australian poet, was an intimate friend of Mr Joseph Laurie of Laurieton, who has many interesting reminiscences of him that are likely one day to come to the public. Kendall died 1st August 1882, at the age of 41; and in the Sydney Town and County Journal of 4th December 1886, there is an interesting account of the inauguration of a monument lately erected over his ashes in the Church of England burying-ground there. The ceremony of unveiling was performed by Lord Carrington, other eminent personages taking part, and the whole was witnessed by a large assemblage of spectators.
Build high the tower-immortalise his name
Or build it not, that name will live the same;
He who in tones prophetic, noble, grand,
Hath told the greatness of thy rising land,
And waked the harp of richly varying wires
To sing the city of a thousand spires-
He shall wax great, as ages onward glide,
And men and homes with thee are multiplied;
And future bards who wake thy country's lyre,
Shall praise his name and kindle at his fire.
Name not his failings, these were things of earth;
Record his fame, perpetuate his worth—
Those glorious talents that to him were given,
And powers of song for these were gifts from heaven.
AIR-"When the kye come hame."
YE'LL join wi' me, my cronies a', in this my hamely sang;
The nicht is glidin' fast awa', an' sune we'll hae to gang.
My theme it is nae far to seek, my lilt 's nae ill to learn,
For
aye the owre-word o't shall be-the Auld Mill Barn.
The Auld Mill Barn, the Auld Mill Barn,
For aye the owre-word o't shall be-the Auld Mill Barn.
Oh, brawly ye can bring to mind the happy hours we've seen, When lad an' lass frae hill an' glen were gathered there
When future toils or comin' ills gied us but sma' concern, As merrily the dance gaed doon the Auld Mill Barn.
December nichts are dreary when the wind is loud an' high, December nichts are eerie when nae moon is in the sky; But what cared we how rough the blast, how dark the nicht an' dern,
When rallied 'neath its lowly roof-the Auld Mill Barn. The Auld Mill Barn, &c.
Nae princely pile in a' the land, nae palace licht an' fair,
Wi' turrets glitterin' in the sun, may aince wi' it compare;
Nor lordlings grand, nor leddies chaste, wi' titles no' to earn,
Can ever match the groups that graced the Auld Mill Barn.
The Auld Mill Barn, &c.
I dinna care for gowd or gear, or men o' high degree;
The humble cot an' lowly lot hae rowth o' joys for me,
An' seldom will the lowe o' love or friendship ever burn
As brightly as when kindled in the Auld Mill Barn.
The Auld Mill Barn, &c.
We've a' oor times o' sunshine, an' oor days o' darkness drear,
But ne'er let's slip true friendship's grip sae lang's we sojourn here,
An' in oor glee an' gladness, an' amid misfortune stern,
We'll cherish aye the mem'ries o' the Auld Mill Barn.
The Auld Mill Barn, &c.
Then join wi' me, my cronies a', in this my hamely sang.
The nicht is glidin' fast awa' an' sune we 'll hae to gang;
My theme it is nae far to seek, my lilt's nae ill to learn,
For aye the owre-word o't shall be-the Auld Mill Barn.
The Auld Mill Barn, &c.
IF WEE WILLIE DEE!
YE maunna wake wee Willie yet,
He's sleepin' gey an' soon',
Just keep the curtains spread abreed,
An' let the blind bide doon.
The lee-lang nicht he 's turned and tossed,
As sick as bairn could be-
Hoo precious this sweet blink o' rest
O, if wee Willie dee!
I've seen him whiles as ill langsyne,
I strive still to believe;
I'm aiblins wrang when I repine,
An' sinfu' when I grieve.
Yet, if we 're doomed to part, how sad
The life I then maun dree,
The only joy an' hope I had-
O, if wee Willie dee!
Yestreen when I lay doon to rest
At midnicht's eerie hour,
He laid his headie on my breast,
An' close to me did coure.
"Ye winna leave me, mither dear,
Ther 'll naething fash wi' me,
When I lie cuddlin' cosie here
O, if my Willie dee!
O, deep's the darkness hoverin' owre
Life's weary path this day,
An' Hope's sweet flower, in this sad hour,
Is witherin' fast
away.
Yet, aiblins He wha reigns aboon,
Baith strength and grace may gie To bear 't, an' say "Thy will be done," If my wee Willie dee.
SANGS ABOOT PRINCE CHARLIE.
THE peacefu' shades o' gloamin' gray
Hae closed the darksome wintry day;
Our humble cottage hame let 's hae
Lit up baith bricht an' rarely.
Let a' thing else be thrust aside,
That honour due to them be paid,
An' let the gloamin' fleetly glide
Wi' sangs about Prince Charlie.
For aince leave Robbie Burns alane,
An' Tannahill, wi' pleasin' strain,
An' ither bards wha in their train
Hae followed e'en richt fairly.
For aince the tunefu' lilt we 'll learn
Frae Jamie Hogg, or Lady Nairne,
Wha a' the grace could weel discern
An' valour o' Prince Charlie.
We'll meet him on the Western isle,
Where first his foot pressed Scottish soil,
When friends and followers the while
Were numbering but sparely.
Thro' dales an' glens wi' him we'll steal
To whaur he met wi' wise Lochiel,
Wha argued wi' sic tact and skeel
Wi' dauntless young Prince Charlie.
Let's gather in Glenfinnan's vale,
Where first upon the northern gale,
Unfurled like gracefu' swelling sail,
His banner floated fairly:
We'll mark how loyal bosoms burn,
An' hear upon the breezes borne
The joyous shout of fealty sworn
To gallant young Prince Charlie.
Or, let us view the gathering clans
Upon the field of Prestonpans,
When foes that didna fear him aince
Are routed quick an' rarely;
An' mighty men to rin are fleet
Wi' tidin's o' their ain defeat,
An' vow that nae mair, air' or late,
They'll meddle wi' Prince Charlie.
Let's hear the welcome leal an' loud
That rang where pompous courtiers bow'd,
An' bade the halls o' Holyrood
Re-echo long an' rarely;
For now the fairest o' the land
Were fain to kiss the Prince's hand,
The bravest proud to take their stand 'Neath banner o' Prince Charlie.
Nor scornfully let 's turn aside
When owre the Borders Charlie gaed,
Success an' failure, light an' shade,
Were mingled here richt sairly,
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