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a curiosity, and as showing out of what rude materials Scott constructed the modern song, which has since become so celebrated.
GENERAL LESLIE'S MARCH TO LONGMARSTON MOOR.
March, march, why the deil dinna ye march?
Stand to your arms, my lads; fight in good order,
Stand till’t and fight like men,
True gospel to maintain;
When to the kirk we come,
We'll purge it ilka room
That a' the world may see
There's nane in the right but we of the auld Scottish nation.
MRS. GRANT of Laggan; born 1755, died 1838. Air-The blue-bells of Scotland."
Oh, where, tell me where is your Highland laddie gone?
with streaming banners where noble deeds are done, And
my sad heart will tremble till he come safely home.
Oh, where, tell me where did your Highland laddie stay?
Oh, what, tell me what does your Highland laddie wear?
Suppose, ah, suppose, that some cruel, cruel wound
But I will hope to see him yet in Scotland's bonnie bounds,
This song, founded on a more ancient one with the same title, was written for the collection of Mr. George Thomson after the death of Burns. The subject was the departure for the Continent, with his regiment, of the Marquis of Huntly in 1799.
THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA.
WILLIAM GLEN. Air-" Whistle o'er the lave o't."
SING, a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim,
Wha conquer'd at Vittoria.
On the mountains o' Vittoria.
Let blust'rin' Suchet crously crack,
He blew them at Vittoria.
Gi'e truth an' honour to the Dane,
aye in sic a cause as Spain,
The English Rose was ne'er sae red,
An’smiled upon Vittoria.
Loud was the battle's stormy swell,
At the battle of Vittoria,
They lie upon Vittoria.
Wi' quakin' heart and tremblin' knees,
An' wantons on Vittoria.
Whan hearin' o' Vittoria.
Peace to the spirits o' the brave,
Upon thy field, Vittoria !
Wi' roses on Vittoria.
Ye Caledonian war-pipes, play;
A prelude to Vittoria.
Barossa an' Vittoria !
ANONYMOUS. About the year 1801. WHEN Abercromby, gallant Scot,
Made Britain's faes to tack again, To fight by him it was my lot;
But now I'm safe come back again. The cannons didna Donald fleg,
I'd like to hear them crack again; My fears were for my bonnie Meg,
Lest I should ne'er come back again. Our leader fell,
,--so died the brave, We'll never see his like again ; I was denied a sodger's grave,
For I am safe come back again. It's true they've ta’en frae me a leg ;
But wha for that would mak' a maen? Cheer up your heart, my bonnie Meg,
I've brought a leal heart back again. And though the wound it carried smart,
And twitch'd me sair wi' rackin' pain, Wi' honour's scars I wadna part,
Nor yet my leg take back again, Cheer up your heart since I am here, Wi' smiles your
deck again ; Cheer up, my lass, an' dinna fear,
Your Donald's safe come back again. Though mony a rattlin' blast has blawn,
There's plenty in the stack again ; My wee lock siller's a'
ain Now sin’ I'm safe come back again. Now may the wars for ever cease,
Your heart nae mair to rack again ; And may we live in love and peace,
Sin' Donald's safe come back again. But should my country call me forth,
Her freedom to protect again, Claymore in hand I'd leave the North,
If I should ne'er come back again.
CALEDONIA ! thou land of the mountain and rock,
Of the ocean, the mist, and the wind;
Of the roebuck, the hart, and the hind ;
Though bleak thy dun islands appear,
That roam on these mountains so drear.
A foe from abroad, or a tyrant at home,
Could never thy ardour restrain;
Essay'd thy proud spirit in vain!
Of genius unshackled and free,
My loved Caledonia, for thee!
Sweet land of the bay and the wild-winding deeps,
Where loveliness slumbers at even,
A calm little motionless heaven!