LAMENT FOR THE OLD HIGHLAND Он, where are the pretty men of yore! Oh, where now the merry Highland heart? Och on a rie, och on a rie, Och on a rie, all are gone; The Gordon, the Murray, and the Graham, Who to Charlie gave their swords and their all, The hills that our brave fathers trod Such things it is sad to think on- THOMAS AIRD. THOMAS AIRD, one of the most distinguished of the living Scottish poets, was born in the village of Bowden, Roxburghshire, in 1802. He received the rudiments of his education at Bowden and Melrose parish schools; and went through a course of literary and philosophical study at the University of Edinburgh. In 1827 he published a little treatise, entitled "Religious Characteristics." After a residence of some years in Edinburgh, in the course of which he contributed occasionally to Blackwood's Magazine, and other periodicals, he was, in 1835, on the recommendation of his steadfast friend Professor Wilson, appointed editor of the Dumfries Herald, a conservative journal newly started in Dumfries. In 1845 he published "The Old Bachelor in the Old Scottish Village," a collection of tales and sketches of Scottish scenery, character, and life. In 1848 he collected and published his poems. In 1852 he wrote a memoir of his friend, David Macbeth Moir (the well-known "Delta" of Blackwood's Magazine), and prefixed it to an edition of Moir's poems, which he edited for behoof of the poet's family. In 1856 a new edition of Mr Aird's poems appeared, with many fresh pieces, and the old carefully revised. For several years Mr Aird has retired from his editorial duties, but he still continues to reside at a pleasant suburb of Dumfries. THE SWALLOW. The river blue, that lapses through the valley, hears thee sing, And murmurs much beneath the touch of thy light dipping wing; The thunder-cloud, over us bow'd, in deeper gloom is seen, When quick relieved it glances to thy bosom's silvery sheen. The silent power that brings thee back, with leading-strings af love, To haunts where first the summer sun fell on thee from above, Shall bind thee more to come aye to the music of our leaves, For here thy young, where thou hast sprung, shall glad thee in our eaves. ROBERT WHITE. ROBERT WHITE, an indefatigable antiquary, and pleasing poet, was born at Yetholm, in Roxburghshire. His youth and early manhood were spent at Otterburn in Redesdale, where his father rented a farm. Possessed of an ardent love of reading, he early became familiar with the English poets, and himself tried metrical composition. While a very young man he ranked among the poetical contributors to the Newcastle Magazine. In 1825 he accepted the situation of clerk to a respectable brassfounder in Newcastle. After a period of nearly forty years spent in the counting-room, he has been enabled to retire from business in affluent circumstances. Mr White has been an industrious writer. In 1829 he published "The Tynemouth Nun," an elegantly versified tale. His other poetical works consist in "The Wind, a Poem,” 1853; "England, a Poem," 1856; and a collected edition of his poems, songs, and metrical tales, which was published at Kelso in 1867. Mr White has afforded evidence of diligent research and superior historical talent in his works on the battles of Otterburn, Flodden, and Neville's Cross. In 1858 he published, at Kelso, a new edition of the poetical works of Dr John Leyden; and he has announced a work on the Battle of Bannockburn. Mr White is an extensive traveller, the friend of men of genius, and a zealous collector of ancient and modern works illustrative of the national history. As a song-writer, his name is familiar to the readers of "Whistle Binkie," and "The Book of Scottish Song." "Tis when elate with thoughts of joy O mark, Eliza, how the flowers Around us sweetly spring; And list how in these woodland bowers Now, dearest, not the morning bright, HER I LOVE BEST. THOU morn full of beauty That chases the night, And wakens all Nature With gladness and light, When warbles the linnet Aloof from its nest, O scatter thy fragrance Round her I love best! Ye hills, dark and lofty, Across thee shall wend, Let every lone pathway In wild flowers be drest, To welcome the footsteps Of her I love best! Thou sun, proudly sailing Ye wild roving breezes, The braids of her hair; Breathe not o'er her rudely, Nor sigh on her breast, Nor kiss you the sweet lip Of her I love best! Thou evening, that gently Her eyes are the brightest In lustre and hue; All objects in nature Her form and her air; I loved her from childhood, THE BONNIE REDESDALE LASSIE. THE breath o' spring is gratefu', The broomy braes amang, How bright is summer's beauty, Oh! sweet is mellow autumn, Or in the sunshine glancin', And rowin' like the sea; As heaven itsel', her bosom BONNIE COQUET-SIDE. O MARY, look how sweetly spring And sportive lambkins deck the braes, At morn I'll mark how melting shine Or, tempted thereby, press to mine To breathe the halesome air, we'll rove And rest betimes, to speak o' love, The wild-rose pure, that scents the gale, The violet dark, and cowslip pale, I'll pu' to wreath thy hair. And when we view ilk furzy dale Ilk snaw-white blossom'd thorn, WILLIAM CAMERON. WILLIAM CAMERON was born on the 3d December 1801, in the parish of Dunipace, Stirlingshire. His father was employed successively in woollen factories at Dumfries, Dalmellington, and Dunipace; he subsequently became proprietor of woollen manufactories at Slamannan, Stirlingshire, and at Blackburn and Torphichen, in the county of Linlithgow. While receiving an education with a view to the ministry, the death of his father in 1819 was attended with an alteration in his prospects, and he was induced to accept the appointment of schoolmaster at the village of Armadale, near Bathgate. In 1836 he resigned this situation, and removed to Glasgow, where he has since engaged in merchandise. His songs, "Jessie o' the Dell" and " on the gowan lea," are deservedly popular. "Meet me ALEXANDER TAIT was born at Peebles, on the 18th December 1802.* Abandoning in 1829 the occupation of a cotton-weaver, he has since been engaged in the work of tuition. He has taught successively in the parishes of Lasswade, Tweedsmuir, Meggat, Pennicuick, Yarrow, and Peebles. To the public journals, both in prose and verse, he has been an extensive contributor. * Peebles Register of Births. E'ENING'S DEWY HOUR. AIR-"Roslin Castle." WHEN rosy day, far in the west, has vanish'd frae the scene, And gloamin' spreads her mantle grey owre lake and mountain green; When yet the darklin' shades o' mirk but haflins seem to lower, How dear to love and beauty is the e'ening's dewy hour! |