The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie Complete in One Volume |
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 | The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie |  |
SCENE I.
A green lawn, surrounded with rocks, and mountains seen in the distance. An assembly of Highlanders are discovered, holding bridal revelry: bagpipes playing, and a noise of voices heard, as the curtain draws up.Enter Allen.
1st high.
Welcome, brave Allen! we began to fear
The water-kelpy, with her swathing arms,
Had drown'd thee at the ford.
2d high.
Faith did we, man! thee and thy shelty too.
Allen.
Am I so late? There's time enough, I hope,
To foot a measure with the bonnie bride,
And maidens too.—'Tis well I'm come at all:
I met the ill-eyed carline on my way.
1st high.
And suffer'd scath by her?
Allen.
Ay, scath enough:
My shelty, in the twinkling of an eye,
Became so restive, neither switch nor heel
Could move him one step further.
2d high.
And so you were obliged to come on foot.
Allen.
What could I do? It was not with the beast
I held contention, but the evil spell
Of that untoward witch.—Ay, but for that,
I would defy the wildest four-legg'd thing
In all Lochaber so to master me!
1st high.
Well, well; the pipes are playing merrily,—
Make up lost time as fleetly as thou canst.
Allen.
And so I will; for here are rosy partners,
Ribbon'd and cockernonied, by my faith!
Like very queens. They make, here as I stand,
Each garter'd leg to thrill, and toes to tickle.
[Seizing one of a group of girls, advancing from the dancers at the bottom of the stage.
Come, winsome Jean! I'll have a reel with thee.
Look not so coy: where did I meet thee last?
We have not had a merry-making here
Since Duncan Mory's latewake.
Jean.
Say nought of latewakes here, I warn you well:
Wot ye who is the bridesmaid?
Allen.
Some gentle dame, belike.
Jean.
Some gentle dame!
Dumbarton Mary, with her Lowland airs.
Allen.
Ay! she that look'd so stern, and said it was
A savage thing, or some such word as that,
To dance at old Glenlyon's funeral.—
But, could the laird himself have raised his head,
He with his ivory stick had rapp'd her pate
For marring with her mincing gentleness
The decent bravery of his last rouse.—
Come, let us have a merry reel together.
[They mix with dancers, who now advance to the front, where a bumpkin, or dance of many interwoven reels, is performed; after which the bride is led to a seat, and some of her maidens sit by her.
Bridegroom.
Now, while the bride and bonnie maidens all
Take needful rest, we'll pass the cheering cup.
And, Rory of Glenoruch, clear thy throat,
And sing some merry song, meet for a wedding,
Where all are boon and gay.
Bride.
O, never mind for that! give us the song
Which thou wast wont on Clachen braes to sing,
And we to praise. Thou knowst the song I mean.
571
On bridal day the bride must be obey'd:
But 'tis a song devised for gentle-folks,
Made by the youthful laird of Ballamorin,
And not for common clansfolk like ourselves.
Bride.
But let us have it ne'ertheless, good Rory;
It shows how sweetly thwarted lovers meet
O' moonlight nights, and talk of happy times
Which fortune has in store for faithful hearts:
The silliest moorland herd can follow that.
Rory.
Then be it as you please: I'll do my best.
SONG.
I've seen the moon gleam through the cave,
And minute drops like diamonds glancing;
I've seen, upon a heaving wave,
The tressy-headed mermaid dancing:
But ne'er was seen, in summer night,
Beneath the moon, in brightness riding,
A moving thing, to charm the sight,
Like Flora to her Malcolm gliding.
And minute drops like diamonds glancing;
I've seen, upon a heaving wave,
The tressy-headed mermaid dancing:
But ne'er was seen, in summer night,
Beneath the moon, in brightness riding,
A moving thing, to charm the sight,
Like Flora to her Malcolm gliding.
I've heard a pibroch, through the wind,
As absent chief his home was nearing;
A half-stripp'd infant, sweetly kind,
With mimic words its mother cheering:
But ne'er were evening sounds so sweet,
As, near the spot of promise stealing,
The quick, soft tread of Flora's feet,
Then whisper'd words, herself revealing.
As absent chief his home was nearing;
A half-stripp'd infant, sweetly kind,
With mimic words its mother cheering:
But ne'er were evening sounds so sweet,
As, near the spot of promise stealing,
The quick, soft tread of Flora's feet,
Then whisper'd words, herself revealing.
My boat I've fastened to the stake,
And on the shelly beach am pacing,
While she is passing moor and brake,
On heather braes her shadow tracing;
And here we'll pass a happy hour,
For hours and years of bliss preparing,
When we shall grace our girdled tower,
Lands, life, and love, together sharing.
And on the shelly beach am pacing,
While she is passing moor and brake,
On heather braes her shadow tracing;
And here we'll pass a happy hour,
For hours and years of bliss preparing,
When we shall grace our girdled tower,
Lands, life, and love, together sharing.
Allen.
Ha! our young chief must be return'd, for here
Comes Culloch, with his staring freckled face.
Omnes
(gathering round Culloch).
Well, man, what are thy news? where hast thou been?
Cul.
We've been at Glasgow.
1st high.
Glasgow! Save us all!
Allen
(half aside to 1st high.).
I doubt it not: his master, I hear say,
Goes oftener there than his good father wots of;
Ay, or his sister either. I suspect
There is some dainty lady—
1st high.
Hush! say nothing.
Allen.
And so, brave Culloch, thou hast travell'd far:
And what is Glasgow like?
Cul.
Like all Drumleary craigs set up in rows,
And chimneys smoking on the top of them.
It is an awful sight!
1st high.
And what sawst thou besides the craigs and chimneys?
Cul.
There be six kirks,—I told them on my fingers;
And, rising from the slates of every kirk,
There is a tower, where great bells ring so loud,
That you might hear them, standing on this sward,
Were they on great Benlawers.
1st high.
Tut! tut! thy ears are better than thy wits.
Bride.
And sawst thou any silken ladies there,
With all their bravery on?
Cul.
Ay, ladies, gentlemen, and red-coat soldiers,
And plaided drovers, standing at the cross,
As close as heather stalks on Hurroch moss.
Ah! well I trow it is an awful place!
Allen
(aside as before).
And well I trow the chief has business there
He wishes no observer to discover,
When he, of all the idle household loons,
Took such an oaf as Culloch to attend him.
But I'll e'en go, before he join the dance,
And have a private word of him, to favour
My poor old mother in her ruin'd cot.
I know full well he will not say me nay,
Though the old laird himself be cold and close.
1st high.
Go, then, and speed thee well!
[Exit Allen.
Bridegroom.
Hear, bonnie lassies! the young laird himself
Will soon be here, and foot it with you featly.
Old woman.
O, bless his comely face! among you all
There is not one that foots the floor like him,—
With such a merry glee and manly grace!
Bridegroom.
We'll have no further dancing till he come.
Meantime, good Rory, sing another song;
Both bride and maidens like thy chanting well:
And those who list may join the chorus rhyme.
SONG.
Upon her saddle's quilted seat,
High sat the bonnie Lowland bride;
Squires rode before, and maidens sweet
Were gently ambling by her side.
What makes her look so pale and wan?—
She's parted from her Highlandman.
What makes her look, &c.
High sat the bonnie Lowland bride;
Squires rode before, and maidens sweet
Were gently ambling by her side.
What makes her look so pale and wan?—
She's parted from her Highlandman.
What makes her look, &c.
Where'er they pass'd, at every door
Stood maids and wives the sight to see;
Curs bark'd, and bairnies by the score
Ran bawling loud and merrily,
But still the bride looks dull and wan;
She's thinking of her Highlandman.
But still the bride, &c.
Stood maids and wives the sight to see;
Curs bark'd, and bairnies by the score
Ran bawling loud and merrily,
But still the bride looks dull and wan;
She's thinking of her Highlandman.
But still the bride, &c.
572
The Lowland laird, in bridegroom's gear,
Prick'd forth to meet the fair array;
His eye was bright, his voice was clear,
And every word was boon and gay.
Ah! little did he reckon then
Of bold and burly Highlandmen.
Ah! little did he reckon, &c.
Prick'd forth to meet the fair array;
His eye was bright, his voice was clear,
And every word was boon and gay.
Ah! little did he reckon then
Of bold and burly Highlandmen.
Ah! little did he reckon, &c.
The bride she raised her drooping brow,
And red as crimson turn'd her cheek.—
What sound is that? The war-pipe now
Descending from yon broomy peak.
It sounds like marching of a clan;
O can it be her Highlandman?
It sounds like, &c.
And red as crimson turn'd her cheek.—
What sound is that? The war-pipe now
Descending from yon broomy peak.
It sounds like marching of a clan;
O can it be her Highlandman?
It sounds like, &c.
Their bonnets deck'd with heather green,
Their shoulders broad with tartans bound,
Their checker'd hose were plainly seen
Right fleetly moving to the sound.
Quick beat her heart, within a ken,
To see the valiant Highlandmen.
Quick beat her heart, &c.
Their shoulders broad with tartans bound,
Their checker'd hose were plainly seen
Right fleetly moving to the sound.
Quick beat her heart, within a ken,
To see the valiant Highlandmen.
Quick beat her heart, &c.
Now challenge-shout is heard, and soon
The bare claymores are flashing bright;
And off scour'd many a Lowland loon,
Who ill could brook the fearful sight.
“The fiend,” quoth they, “from cave and glen
Has pour'd those stalwart Highlandmen.
“The fiend,” quoth they, &c.
The bare claymores are flashing bright;
And off scour'd many a Lowland loon,
Who ill could brook the fearful sight.
“The fiend,” quoth they, “from cave and glen
Has pour'd those stalwart Highlandmen.
“The fiend,” quoth they, &c.
Then pistols from their holsters sprang,
Then wax'd the skirmish fierce and hot,
Blades clashing fell, and harness rang,
And loudly bluster'd fire and shot;
For, sooth to say, the bridegroom then
Full bravely met the Highlandmen.
For, sooth to say, &c.
Then wax'd the skirmish fierce and hot,
Blades clashing fell, and harness rang,
And loudly bluster'd fire and shot;
For, sooth to say, the bridegroom then
Full bravely met the Highlandmen.
For, sooth to say, &c.
And so did all his near o' kin,
As Lowland race such stour may bide:
But sank, at last, the mingled din,
And where was then the bonnie bride?
Ay, ask at those who answer can;
Ask at the cunning Highlandman.
Ay, ask at those, &c.
As Lowland race such stour may bide:
But sank, at last, the mingled din,
And where was then the bonnie bride?
Ay, ask at those who answer can;
Ask at the cunning Highlandman.
Ay, ask at those, &c.
The bridegroom, in a woeful plight,
Back to his furnish'd hall has gone,
Where spread on boards so gaily dight,
Cold has the wedding banquet grown.
How changed since break of morning, when
He thought not of the Highlandmen!
How changed since, &c.
Back to his furnish'd hall has gone,
Where spread on boards so gaily dight,
Cold has the wedding banquet grown.
How changed since break of morning, when
He thought not of the Highlandmen!
How changed since, &c.
And who, upon Benledi's side,
Beneath his shieling blest and gay,
Is sitting by that bonnie bride,
While round them moves the light strathspey?
It is the flower of all his clan,—
It is her gallant Highlandman.
It is the flower, &c.
Beneath his shieling blest and gay,
Is sitting by that bonnie bride,
While round them moves the light strathspey?
It is the flower of all his clan,—
It is her gallant Highlandman.
It is the flower, &c.
Allen.
I've seen him, sirs; I have had words of him.
1st high.
Had words of whom?
Allen.
Of the young laird himself.
Omnes.
Hast thou? and is he coming to the green?
Allen.
He bade me say he'll join you in the evening.
Omnes.
And not till then?
Allen.
Some strangers have arrived.
And I have seen them too: the lady's mounted
Upon a milk-white nag; and o'er her saddle
A scarlet cloth is spread, both deep and wide,
With bobs and fringes deck'd right gallantly;
And in her riding gear she sits with grace
That might become the daughter of a chief,
Ay, or the king himself.
1st high.
Perhaps it is the Glasgow provost's daughter,
Who is, as they have said, the very match
That our old laird is planning for his son.
Allen.
Ay, he may plan, but love will have its way,—
Free, fitful love thinks scorn of prudent planning.
No, young Dunarden went not to the town
With simple Culloch for his sole attendant,
To see the provost's daughter.
Bride
(to Allen).
And so he will not join us till the evening?
Allen.
No, damsels; but here are ribands for the bride,
And for you all, which he has sent by me.
Now they who have the nimblest hands among you,
Will catch their favourite colours as they fly. [Pulls out ribands from his pouch, and dances about in a whirling figure to the bottom of the stage, strewing about pieces of ribands, while the girls follow, to catch them as they fall.
[Exeunt.
| The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie | |