The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle including several original pieces, with a new life of the author. By the Rev. John Sim |
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 | The Poetical Works of William Julius Mickle |  |
120
SONGS.
THE SHEPHERD IN LOVE.
Were Nancy but a rural maid,
And I her only swain
To tend our flocks in rural mead,
And on the verdant plain;
Oh, how I'd pipe upon my reed
To please my only maid,
While from all sense of fear we're freed
Beneath an oaken shade.
And I her only swain
To tend our flocks in rural mead,
And on the verdant plain;
Oh, how I'd pipe upon my reed
To please my only maid,
While from all sense of fear we're freed
Beneath an oaken shade.
When lambkins under hedges bleat,
And clouds do black the sky,
Then to our oaken safe retreat
We'd both together hie:
There I'd repeat my vows of love
Unto the charming fair,
Whilst her dear fluttering heart should prove
Her love like mine sincere.
And clouds do black the sky,
Then to our oaken safe retreat
We'd both together hie:
There I'd repeat my vows of love
Unto the charming fair,
Whilst her dear fluttering heart should prove
Her love like mine sincere.
When Phœbus bright sinks in the west
And flocks are pent in fold,
Beneath an oaken tree we'd rest
In joys not to be told.
And when Aurora's beams set free
The next enlivening day,
We'd turn our flocks at liberty
And down we'd sit and play.
And flocks are pent in fold,
Beneath an oaken tree we'd rest
In joys not to be told.
And when Aurora's beams set free
The next enlivening day,
We'd turn our flocks at liberty
And down we'd sit and play.
THE LINNETS.
As bringing home the other day
Two linnets I had taen,
The pretty warblers seem'd to pray
For liberty again:
Unheedful of their plaintive notes
I sprung across the mead,
In vain they tun'd their downy throats
And warbl'd to be freed.
Two linnets I had taen,
The pretty warblers seem'd to pray
For liberty again:
121
I sprung across the mead,
In vain they tun'd their downy throats
And warbl'd to be freed.
As passing through the tufted grove
In which my cottage stood,
I thought I saw the queen of love
When Chlora's charms I view'd.
I gaz'd, I lov'd, I press'd her stay
To hear my tender tale,
But all in vain, she fled away,
Nor could my sighs prevail.
In which my cottage stood,
I thought I saw the queen of love
When Chlora's charms I view'd.
I gaz'd, I lov'd, I press'd her stay
To hear my tender tale,
But all in vain, she fled away,
Nor could my sighs prevail.
Soon through the wounds that love had made
Came pity to my breast,
And thus I as compassion bade
The feather'd pair addrest:
“Ye little warblers, cheerful be,
“Remember not ye flew;
“For I, who thought myself so free,
“Am caught as well as you.”
Came pity to my breast,
And thus I as compassion bade
The feather'd pair addrest:
“Ye little warblers, cheerful be,
“Remember not ye flew;
“For I, who thought myself so free,
“Am caught as well as you.”
THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.
And are you sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think of wark!
Mak haste, lay by your wheel;
Is this the time to spin a thread
When Colin's at the door!
Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay
And see him come ashore.
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think of wark!
Mak haste, lay by your wheel;
Is this the time to spin a thread
When Colin's at the door!
Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay
And see him come ashore.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There is nae luck at aw;
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
There is nae luck at aw;
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
122
And gie to me my bigonet,
My bishop's satin gown;
For I maun tell the bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockings pearly blue;
'Tis aw to pleasure my gudeman
For he's baith leel and true.
My bishop's satin gown;
For I maun tell the bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockings pearly blue;
'Tis aw to pleasure my gudeman
For he's baith leel and true.
For there's nae luck, &c.
Rise, lass, and mak a clean fire side,
Put on the muckle pot,
Gie little Kate her button gown,
And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It's aw to please my ain gudeman.
For he's been lang awa.
Put on the muckle pot,
Gie little Kate her button gown,
And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It's aw to please my ain gudeman.
For he's been lang awa.
For there's nae, &c.
There's twa fat hens upo' the bauk
Been fed this month and mair,
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare;
And mak the table neat and clean,
Let every thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared
When he was far awa.
Been fed this month and mair,
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare;
And mak the table neat and clean,
Let every thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared
When he was far awa.
Ah, there's nae, &c.
Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
His breath like cauler air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair!
And shall I see his face again,
And shall I hear him speak!
I'm downright dizzy wi the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
His breath like cauler air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair!
And shall I see his face again,
And shall I hear him speak!
I'm downright dizzy wi the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae, &c.
“The caul blasts of the winter wind,
“That thrilled through my heart,
“They're aw blawn by, I hae him safe,
“Till death we'll never part:
“But why should I of parting tauk,
“It may be far awa;
“The present moment is our ain,
“The neist we never saw .”
“That thrilled through my heart,
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“Till death we'll never part:
“But why should I of parting tauk,
“It may be far awa;
“The present moment is our ain,
“The neist we never saw .”
For there's nae, &c.
If Colin's weel, and weel content,
I hae nae mair to crave—
And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave.
And shall I see his face again,
And shall I hear him speak!
I'm downright dizzy wi the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
I hae nae mair to crave—
And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave.
And shall I see his face again,
And shall I hear him speak!
I'm downright dizzy wi the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae, &c.
ESKDALE BRAES .
By the banks of the crystal-stream'd Esk,
Where the Wauchope her yellow wave joins,
Where the lambkins on sunny braes bask,
And wild woodbine the shepherd's bower twines.
Where the Wauchope her yellow wave joins,
Where the lambkins on sunny braes bask,
And wild woodbine the shepherd's bower twines.
Maria, disconsolate maid,
Oft sigh'd the still noon-tide away,
Or by moonlight all desolate stray'd,
While woeful she tun'd her love-lay:
Oft sigh'd the still noon-tide away,
Or by moonlight all desolate stray'd,
While woeful she tun'd her love-lay:
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Ah, no more from the banks of the Ewes
My shepherd comes cheerly along,
Broomholm and the Deansbanks refuse
To echo the plaints of his song:
My shepherd comes cheerly along,
Broomholm and the Deansbanks refuse
To echo the plaints of his song:
No more from the echoes of Ewes,
His dog fondly barking I hear;
No more the tir'd lark he pursues,
And tells me his master draws near.
His dog fondly barking I hear;
No more the tir'd lark he pursues,
And tells me his master draws near.
Ah, woe to the wars, and the pride,
Thy heroes, O Esk, could display,
When with laurels they planted thy side,
From France and from Spain borne away.
Thy heroes, O Esk, could display,
When with laurels they planted thy side,
From France and from Spain borne away.
Oh, why did their honours decoy
My poor shepherd lad from the shore;
Ambition bewitch'd the vain boy,
And oceans between us now roar.
My poor shepherd lad from the shore;
Ambition bewitch'd the vain boy,
And oceans between us now roar.
Ah, methinks his pale corse floating by,
I behold on the rude billows tost;
Unburied his scatter'd bones lie,
Lie bleaching on some desert coast!
I behold on the rude billows tost;
Unburied his scatter'd bones lie,
Lie bleaching on some desert coast!
By this stream and the May-blossom'd thorn,
That first heard his love-tale, and his vows,
My pale ghost shall wander forlorn,
And the willow shall weep o'er my brows.
That first heard his love-tale, and his vows,
My pale ghost shall wander forlorn,
And the willow shall weep o'er my brows.
With the ghosts of the Waas will I wail,
In Warblaw woods join the sad throng,
To Hallow E'en's blast tell my tale,
As the spectres, ungrav'd, glide along.
In Warblaw woods join the sad throng,
To Hallow E'en's blast tell my tale,
As the spectres, ungrav'd, glide along.
125
Still the Ewes rolls her paly blue stream,
Old Esk still his crystal tide pours,
Still golden the Wauchope waves gleam,
And still green, oh Broomholm, are thy bowers!
Old Esk still his crystal tide pours,
Still golden the Wauchope waves gleam,
And still green, oh Broomholm, are thy bowers!
No: blasted they seem to my view,
The rivers in red floods combine!
The turtles their widow'd notes coo,
And mix their sad ditties with mine!
The rivers in red floods combine!
The turtles their widow'd notes coo,
And mix their sad ditties with mine!
Discolour'd in sorrow's dim shade,
All nature seems with me to mourn,—
Strait the village-bells merrily play'd,
And announc'd her dear Jamie's return.
All nature seems with me to mourn,—
Strait the village-bells merrily play'd,
And announc'd her dear Jamie's return.
The woodlands all May-blown appear,
The silver streams murmur new charms,
As, smiling, her Jamie drew near,
And all eager sprung into her arms.
The silver streams murmur new charms,
As, smiling, her Jamie drew near,
And all eager sprung into her arms.
The scene is laid on the banks where the two rivers of the Wauchope and Ewes join the Esk; on the banks of the former, was anciently a castle belonging to the Knights Templars, on the ruins of which was built the house at which Mr. Mickle's father resided, and where the poet was born. It was composed at the request of Mr. Ballantyne, and was to have been set to music by Mr. Commissioner Balmaine, of the Scotch excise, had not death prevented him. Both these gentlemen were born in this district.
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