The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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INTRODUCTION. |
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
INTRODUCTION.
Thou Queen of Caledonia's mountain floods,
Theme of a thousand gifted bards of yore;
Majestic wanderer of the wilds and woods,
That lovest to circle cliff and mountain hoar,
And with the winds to mix thy kindred roar,
Startling the shepherd of the Grampian glen;
Rich are the vales that bound thy eastern shore,
And fair thy upland dales to human ken;
But scarcely are thy springs known to the sons of men.
Theme of a thousand gifted bards of yore;
Majestic wanderer of the wilds and woods,
That lovest to circle cliff and mountain hoar,
And with the winds to mix thy kindred roar,
Startling the shepherd of the Grampian glen;
Rich are the vales that bound thy eastern shore,
And fair thy upland dales to human ken;
But scarcely are thy springs known to the sons of men.
Oh that some spirit at the midnight noon
Aloft would bear me, middle space, to see
Thy thousand branches gleaming to the moon
By shadowy hill, gray rock, and fairy lea;
Thy gleesome elves disporting merrily
In glimmering circles by the lonely dell,
Or by the sacred fount, or haunted tree,
Where bowed the saint, as hoary legends tell,
And Superstition's last, wild, thrilling visions dwell!
Aloft would bear me, middle space, to see
Thy thousand branches gleaming to the moon
By shadowy hill, gray rock, and fairy lea;
Thy gleesome elves disporting merrily
In glimmering circles by the lonely dell,
Or by the sacred fount, or haunted tree,
Where bowed the saint, as hoary legends tell,
And Superstition's last, wild, thrilling visions dwell!
To Fancy's eye the ample scene is spread;
The yellow moonbeam sleeps on hills of dew,
On many an everlasting pyramid
That bathes its gray head in celestial blue.
These o'er thy cradle stand the guardians true,
The eternal bulwarks of the land and thee,
And evermore thy lullaby renew
To howling winds and storms that o'er thee flee:
All hail, ye battlements of ancient liberty!
The yellow moonbeam sleeps on hills of dew,
On many an everlasting pyramid
That bathes its gray head in celestial blue.
These o'er thy cradle stand the guardians true,
The eternal bulwarks of the land and thee,
And evermore thy lullaby renew
To howling winds and storms that o'er thee flee:
All hail, ye battlements of ancient liberty!
There the dark raven builds his dreary home;
The eagle o'er his eyrie raves aloud;
The brindled fox around thee loves to roam,
And ptarmigans, the inmates of the cloud;
And when the summer flings her dappled shroud
O'er reddening moors, and wilds of softened gray,
The youthful swain, unfashioned, unendowed,
The brocket and the lamb may round thee play:
These thy first guests alone, thou fair, majestic Tay!
The eagle o'er his eyrie raves aloud;
The brindled fox around thee loves to roam,
And ptarmigans, the inmates of the cloud;
And when the summer flings her dappled shroud
O'er reddening moors, and wilds of softened gray,
The youthful swain, unfashioned, unendowed,
The brocket and the lamb may round thee play:
These thy first guests alone, thou fair, majestic Tay!
106
But bear me, Spirit of the gifted eye,
Far on thy pinions eastward to the main,
O'er garish glens and straths of every dye,
Where oxen low, and waves the yellow grain;
Where beetling cliffs o'erhang the belted plain
In spiral forms, fantastic, wild, and riven;
Where swell the woodland choir and maiden's strain,
As forests bend unto the breeze of even,
And in the flood beneath wave o'er a downward heaven!
Far on thy pinions eastward to the main,
O'er garish glens and straths of every dye,
Where oxen low, and waves the yellow grain;
Where beetling cliffs o'erhang the belted plain
In spiral forms, fantastic, wild, and riven;
Where swell the woodland choir and maiden's strain,
As forests bend unto the breeze of even,
And in the flood beneath wave o'er a downward heaven!
Then hold thy visioned course along the skies,
O'er fertile valley bounded by the sea,
Girdled by silver baldrick, which now vies
In broadness with the ocean's majesty;
Where pleasure smiles, and laughing luxury,
And traffic bustles out the live-long day;
Where brazen keels before the billows flee—
Is that the murmuring rill of mountain gray?
Is that imperial flood the wildered Grampian Tay?
O'er fertile valley bounded by the sea,
Girdled by silver baldrick, which now vies
In broadness with the ocean's majesty;
Where pleasure smiles, and laughing luxury,
And traffic bustles out the live-long day;
Where brazen keels before the billows flee—
Is that the murmuring rill of mountain gray?
Is that imperial flood the wildered Grampian Tay?
Far on thy fringed borders, west away,
Queen of green Albyn's rivers, let me roam,
And mark thy graceful windings as I stray
When drowsy day-light seeks her curtained dome.
Fain would a weary wanderer from his home,
The wayward Minstrel of a southland dale,
Sing of thy mountain birth, thy billowy tomb,
And legends old that linger in thy vale;
To friendship and to thee, is due the simple tale.
Queen of green Albyn's rivers, let me roam,
And mark thy graceful windings as I stray
When drowsy day-light seeks her curtained dome.
Fain would a weary wanderer from his home,
The wayward Minstrel of a southland dale,
Sing of thy mountain birth, thy billowy tomb,
And legends old that linger in thy vale;
To friendship and to thee, is due the simple tale.
Old Caledonia! pathway of the storm
That o'er thy wilds resistless sweeps along,
Though clouds and snows thy sterile hills deform,
Thou art the land of freedom and of song.
Land of the eagle fancy, wild and strong!
Land of the loyal heart and valiant arm!
Though southern pride and luxury may wrong
Thy mountain honours, still my heart shall warm
At thy unquestioned weir and songs of magic charm.
That o'er thy wilds resistless sweeps along,
Though clouds and snows thy sterile hills deform,
Thou art the land of freedom and of song.
Land of the eagle fancy, wild and strong!
Land of the loyal heart and valiant arm!
Though southern pride and luxury may wrong
Thy mountain honours, still my heart shall warm
At thy unquestioned weir and songs of magic charm.
O, I might tell where ancient cities stood;
And I might sing of battles lost and won;
Of royal obsequies, and halls of blood,
And daring deeds by dauntless warrior done.
Since Scotland's crimson page was first begun,
Tay was the scene of actions great and high:
But aye when from the echoing hills I run,
My froward harp refuses to comply;
The nursling of the wild, the Mountain Bard am I.
And I might sing of battles lost and won;
Of royal obsequies, and halls of blood,
And daring deeds by dauntless warrior done.
Since Scotland's crimson page was first begun,
Tay was the scene of actions great and high:
But aye when from the echoing hills I run,
My froward harp refuses to comply;
The nursling of the wild, the Mountain Bard am I.
I cannot sing of Longcarty and Hay,
Nor long on deeds of death and danger dwell;
Of old Dunsinnan towers, or Birnam gray,
Where Canmore battled and the villain fell.
But list! I will an ancient story tell,
A tale of meikle woe and mystery;
Of sore mishaps that an old sire befell,
Wise Dame, and Minstrel of full high degree,
And visions of dismay, unfitting man to see.
Nor long on deeds of death and danger dwell;
Of old Dunsinnan towers, or Birnam gray,
Where Canmore battled and the villain fell.
But list! I will an ancient story tell,
A tale of meikle woe and mystery;
Of sore mishaps that an old sire befell,
Wise Dame, and Minstrel of full high degree,
And visions of dismay, unfitting man to see.
And thou shalt hear of maid, whose melting eye
Spoke to the heart what tongue could never say—
A maid, right gentle, frolicsome, and sly,
And blythe as lambkin on a morn of May;
Whose auburn locks when waving to the day,
And lightsome form of sweet simplicity,
Stole many a fond unweeting heart away,
And held those hearts in pleasing slavery;—
Woe that such flower should e'er by lover blighted be!
Spoke to the heart what tongue could never say—
A maid, right gentle, frolicsome, and sly,
And blythe as lambkin on a morn of May;
Whose auburn locks when waving to the day,
And lightsome form of sweet simplicity,
Stole many a fond unweeting heart away,
And held those hearts in pleasing slavery;—
Woe that such flower should e'er by lover blighted be!
But ween not thou that nature's simple bard
Can e'er unblemished character define;
True to his faithful monitor's award,
He paints her glories only as they shine.
Of men all pure, and maidens all divine,
Expect not thou his wild-wood lay to be;
But those whose virtues and defects combine,
Such as in erring man we daily see—
The child of failings born, and scathed humanity.
Can e'er unblemished character define;
True to his faithful monitor's award,
He paints her glories only as they shine.
Of men all pure, and maidens all divine,
Expect not thou his wild-wood lay to be;
But those whose virtues and defects combine,
Such as in erring man we daily see—
The child of failings born, and scathed humanity.
| The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd | |