Poems by James Hyslop ... With a Sketch of his Life, and Notes on his Poems, By the Rev. Peter Mearns |
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| XXI. | XXI.
Scottish Imitation of a Passage in Tasso's “Aminta.”
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 | Poems by James Hyslop |  |
XXI.
Scottish Imitation of a Passage in Tasso's “Aminta.”
Dear sir,—Since you have been so kind,
I surely cannot be behind,
Accept, I pray, the followin' story,
Which I have just translated for ye.
I surely cannot be behind,
Accept, I pray, the followin' story,
Which I have just translated for ye.
144
The scene is an Italian wood:
The nymphs are fair, the day is good,
The sun shines bright among the flow'rs,
Two shepherds meet among the bow'rs.
The nymphs are fair, the day is good,
The sun shines bright among the flow'rs,
Two shepherds meet among the bow'rs.
But, humbly beggin' Tasso's pardon,
I dinna like to be tied hard down,
Besides, I think there's no occasion
For a strict, literal translation.
I dinna like to be tied hard down,
Besides, I think there's no occasion
For a strict, literal translation.
I therefore mean to change the scene
To Crawick's woods o' Scottish green;
I'll act Aminta if I can,
An' Sylvia shall be lovely Ann.
To Crawick's woods o' Scottish green;
I'll act Aminta if I can,
An' Sylvia shall be lovely Ann.
When I was just a wee, wee callan,
Rinnan about my Lydia's dwallan,
We aften wandert out thegither,
An' gowans pou'd wi' ane anither.
Rinnan about my Lydia's dwallan,
We aften wandert out thegither,
An' gowans pou'd wi' ane anither.
Her saft an' shinin' auburn hair
Hang curlin' o'er her white neck bare,
Dancin' upon the simmer breeze,—
An' I wad climb the leafy trees
Hang curlin' o'er her white neck bare,
Dancin' upon the simmer breeze,—
An' I wad climb the leafy trees
To cull the fruits, o' sweetest juice,
Of which my Lydia had made choice.
While thus among the woods we ran,
An early friendship soon began:
Of which my Lydia had made choice.
While thus among the woods we ran,
An early friendship soon began:
An' she was gentler far than ony,
An' she was playfu', young, and bonny,
An' no ane among a' the fair,
Wi' my sweet Lydia could compare.
An' she was playfu', young, and bonny,
An' no ane among a' the fair,
Wi' my sweet Lydia could compare.
Our dwallans they were closely join'd,
But closer were our hearts combin'd,
An' though we were exactly yealans,
We nearer were in thoughts an' feelin's.
But closer were our hearts combin'd,
An' though we were exactly yealans,
We nearer were in thoughts an' feelin's.
In thae sweet years o' early love,
The kind and gentle turtle dove
Was not mair happy, wi' its mate,
Than we thegither air' an' late.
The kind and gentle turtle dove
Was not mair happy, wi' its mate,
Than we thegither air' an' late.
145
By little an' by little grew
Up in my heart, I kenna how,
Like a wee gowan i' the meadow,
An unkent love for my dear Lydia.
Up in my heart, I kenna how,
Like a wee gowan i' the meadow,
An unkent love for my dear Lydia.
While we were seated on a bank
I from her eyes a sweetness drank,
That made me always wish to be
In that young lassie's company.
I from her eyes a sweetness drank,
That made me always wish to be
In that young lassie's company.
Such draughts of sweetness left a pain
That never could be heal'd again,
Besides, they often made me sigh,
I did not know the reason why.
That never could be heal'd again,
Besides, they often made me sigh,
I did not know the reason why.
Continuin' sighs my heart did move,
An' I discover'd it was love;
How this same love o mine did end,
I mean to tell you,—pray, attend.
An' I discover'd it was love;
How this same love o mine did end,
I mean to tell you,—pray, attend.
Ae day aneath a green birk tree
Young Fanny, Lydia, an' me,
Playfully pass'd away the hours,—
The bees drank honey 'mong the flow'rs.
Young Fanny, Lydia, an' me,
Playfully pass'd away the hours,—
The bees drank honey 'mong the flow'rs.
Young Fanny's cheek, vermilion pure,
The bees mistook it for a flow'r:
Ane o' them cam', wi' bummin' wing,
An', waesucks! pierc'd it wi' his sting
The bees mistook it for a flow'r:
Ane o' them cam', wi' bummin' wing,
An', waesucks! pierc'd it wi' his sting
Young Fanny's cheek was unco sair,
An' she began a-greetin' there;
My Lydia, wi' her voice sae sweet,
Said “Dearest Fanny! dinna greet.
An' she began a-greetin' there;
My Lydia, wi' her voice sae sweet,
Said “Dearest Fanny! dinna greet.
“I ha'e a charm will heal the wound,
An' mak' your cheek yet hale an' sound,
I learned it frae an auld wise woman
Kent mony a thing that wasna common.”
An' mak' your cheek yet hale an' sound,
I learned it frae an auld wise woman
Kent mony a thing that wasna common.”
This said, my Lydia did advance
Her sweet wee mouth, wi' laughin' glance,
An' prest it to the bumbee wound,
Wi' sic a sweet and murmurin' sound,
Her sweet wee mouth, wi' laughin' glance,
An' prest it to the bumbee wound,
Wi' sic a sweet and murmurin' sound,
146
That really, wonderful to say,
The pain died perfectly away,
The virtue o' her lips was such
They heal'd it wi' their vera touch.
The pain died perfectly away,
The virtue o' her lips was such
They heal'd it wi' their vera touch.
An' I, who never had before
Observ'd in Lydia any more
Than the soft languor of her eyes;
Her voice, that wak'd love's softest sighs,—
Observ'd in Lydia any more
Than the soft languor of her eyes;
Her voice, that wak'd love's softest sighs,—
A voice far sweeter than the burnie
That plays o'er many a pebbl'd turnie,
Sweeter than simmer's sigh that heaves
Among the flow'rs an' rustlin' leaves,—
That plays o'er many a pebbl'd turnie,
Sweeter than simmer's sigh that heaves
Among the flow'rs an' rustlin' leaves,—
Began to feel a new desire;
Within my heart there burnt a fire
That made me long to press her lips,
An' drink the dews a lover sips.
Within my heart there burnt a fire
That made me long to press her lips,
An' drink the dews a lover sips.
Nae ither plan remain'd for me,
Than to bring back young Fanny's bee,
An' mak' it come wi' bummin' wing,
An' gie my cheek, like hers, a sting.
Than to bring back young Fanny's bee,
An' mak' it come wi' bummin' wing,
An' gie my cheek, like hers, a sting.
Whether my cheek was stangt or no
It matters not—but I did go
To Lydia—who my tale believ'd,
For piteously I grat and griev'd.
It matters not—but I did go
To Lydia—who my tale believ'd,
For piteously I grat and griev'd.
Soon did the kind young girl prepare
To mend my cheek was stangt sae sair:
But, ah! the stang her lips did gie
Inflam'd far waur than any bee!
To mend my cheek was stangt sae sair:
But, ah! the stang her lips did gie
Inflam'd far waur than any bee!
Her soft arms round my neck entwin'd,
Her glowing breast on mine reclin'd;
Drunken with love's delicious draught,
Her eyes grew languid, sweet, and saft;
Her glowing breast on mine reclin'd;
Drunken with love's delicious draught,
Her eyes grew languid, sweet, and saft;
Her ringlets on my cheek were lyin',
My soul upon her lips was sighin';
Then Lydia taught me first the powers
Of soft rich lips like honey flowers.
My soul upon her lips was sighin';
Then Lydia taught me first the powers
Of soft rich lips like honey flowers.
| Poems by James Hyslop | |