The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill With biography, illustrations, and music |
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WILL MACNEIL'S ELEGY.
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 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
152
WILL MACNEIL'S ELEGY.
“He was a man without a clag;
His heart was frank without a flaw.”
His heart was frank without a flaw.”
Responsive to the roaring floods,
Ye winds, howl plaintive through the woods;
Thou gloomy sky, pour down hail clouds,
His death to wail;
For bright as heaven's brightest studs,
Shin'd Will MacNeil.
Ye winds, howl plaintive through the woods;
Thou gloomy sky, pour down hail clouds,
His death to wail;
For bright as heaven's brightest studs,
Shin'd Will MacNeil.
He every selfish thought did scorn,
His warm heart in his looks did burn,
Ilk body own'd his kindly turn,
And gait sae leal;
A kinder saul was never born
Than Will MacNeil.
His warm heart in his looks did burn,
Ilk body own'd his kindly turn,
And gait sae leal;
A kinder saul was never born
Than Will MacNeil.
He ne'er kept up a hidlin plack
To spend ahint a comrade's back,
But on the table gar'd it whack
Wi' free gude will:
Free as the wind on winter stack
Was Will MacNeil.
To spend ahint a comrade's back,
But on the table gar'd it whack
Wi' free gude will:
Free as the wind on winter stack
Was Will MacNeil.
He ne'er could bide a narrow saul,
To a' the social virtues caul';
He wish'd ilk sic a fiery scaul',
His shins to peel;
Nane sic durst herd in field or faul'
Wi' Will MacNeil.
To a' the social virtues caul';
He wish'd ilk sic a fiery scaul',
His shins to peel;
Nane sic durst herd in field or faul'
Wi' Will MacNeil.
153
He aye abhorr'd the spaniel art;
Aye when he spak' 'twas frae the heart;
An honest, open, manly part
He aye uphel';
“Guile should be develt in the dirt,”
Said Will MacNeil.
Aye when he spak' 'twas frae the heart;
An honest, open, manly part
He aye uphel';
“Guile should be develt in the dirt,”
Said Will MacNeil.
He ne'er had greed to gather gear,
Yet rigid kept his credit clear;
He ever was to Misery dear,
Her loss she 'll feel:
She aye got saxpence, or a tear,
Frae Will MacNeil.
Yet rigid kept his credit clear;
He ever was to Misery dear,
Her loss she 'll feel:
She aye got saxpence, or a tear,
Frae Will MacNeil.
In Scots antiquities he pridit;
Auld Hardyknute, he kent wha made it;
The bagpipe, too, he sometimes 'say'd it,
Pibroch and reel:
Our ain auld language, few could read it
Like Will MacNeil.
Auld Hardyknute, he kent wha made it;
The bagpipe, too, he sometimes 'say'd it,
Pibroch and reel:
Our ain auld language, few could read it
Like Will MacNeil.
In wilyart glens he lik'd to stray,
By foggie rocks, or castle gray;
Yet ghaist-rid rustics ne'er did say,
“Uncanny chiel!”
They fill'd their horns wi' usquebae
To Will MacNeil.
By foggie rocks, or castle gray;
Yet ghaist-rid rustics ne'er did say,
“Uncanny chiel!”
They fill'd their horns wi' usquebae
To Will MacNeil.
He sail'd and trampit mony a mile,
To visit auld I-columb-kill;
He clamb the heights o' Jura's isle,
Wi' weary speil;
But siccan sights aye pay'd the toil
Wi' Will MacNeil.
To visit auld I-columb-kill;
He clamb the heights o' Jura's isle,
Wi' weary speil;
But siccan sights aye pay'd the toil
Wi' Will MacNeil.
154
He rang'd through Morven's hills and glens,
Saw some o' Ossian's moss-grown stanes,
Where rest his low-laid heroes' banes,
Deep in the hill;
He croon'd a c'ronach to their manes,—
Kind Will MacNeil!
Saw some o' Ossian's moss-grown stanes,
Where rest his low-laid heroes' banes,
Deep in the hill;
He croon'd a c'ronach to their manes,—
Kind Will MacNeil!
He was deep-read in nature's book,
Explor'd ilk dark mysterious crook,
Kent a' her laws wi' antrin look,
And that right weel;
But (fate o' genius) death soon took
Aff Will MacNeil.
Explor'd ilk dark mysterious crook,
Kent a' her laws wi' antrin look,
And that right weel;
But (fate o' genius) death soon took
Aff Will MacNeil.
Of ilka rock he kent the ore,
He kent the virtues o' ilk flow'r,
Ilk banefu' plant he kent its power,
And warn'd frae ill:
A' nature's warks few could explore
Like Will MacNeil.
He kent the virtues o' ilk flow'r,
Ilk banefu' plant he kent its power,
And warn'd frae ill:
A' nature's warks few could explore
Like Will MacNeil.
He kent a' creatures, clute and tail,
Down frae the lion to the snail,
Up frae the mennon to the whale,
And kraken eel;
Scarce ane could tell their gaits sae weel
As Will MacNeil.
Down frae the lion to the snail,
Up frae the mennon to the whale,
And kraken eel;
Scarce ane could tell their gaits sae weel
As Will MacNeil.
Nor past he ought thing slightly by,
But with keen scrutinizing eye
He to its inmaist bore would pry,
Wi' wondrous skill;
And teaching ithers aye ga'e joy
To Will MacNeil.
But with keen scrutinizing eye
He to its inmaist bore would pry,
Wi' wondrous skill;
And teaching ithers aye ga'e joy
To Will MacNeil.
155
He kent auld Archimedes' gait,
What way he burnt the Roman fleet:
“'Twas by the rays' reflected heat
Frae speculum steel;
For bare refraction ne'er could do't,”
Said Will MacNeil.
What way he burnt the Roman fleet:
“'Twas by the rays' reflected heat
Frae speculum steel;
For bare refraction ne'er could do't,”
Said Will MacNeil.
Yet fame his praise did never rair it,
For poortith's weeds obscur'd his merit,
Forby, he had a bashfu' spirit,
That sham'd to tell
His worth or wants; let envy spare it
To Will MacNeil.
For poortith's weeds obscur'd his merit,
Forby, he had a bashfu' spirit,
That sham'd to tell
His worth or wants; let envy spare it
To Will MacNeil.
O Barra,
thou wast sair to blame!
I here record it to thy shame,
Thou let the brightest o' thy name
Unheeded steal
Through murky life to his lang hame,—
Poor Will MacNeil.
I here record it to thy shame,
Thou let the brightest o' thy name
Unheeded steal
Through murky life to his lang hame,—
Poor Will MacNeil.
He ne'er did wrang to living creature,
For ill, Will hadna 't in his nature;
A warm, kind heart his leading feature,
His mainspring wheel;
Ilk virtue grew to noble stature
In Will MacNeil.
For ill, Will hadna 't in his nature;
A warm, kind heart his leading feature,
His mainspring wheel;
Ilk virtue grew to noble stature
In Will MacNeil.
There 's no' a man that ever kent him
But wi' his tears will lang lament him;
He hasna left his match ahint him,
At hame or 'fiel';
His worth lang on our minds will print him—
Kind Will MacNeil.
But wi' his tears will lang lament him;
He hasna left his match ahint him,
At hame or 'fiel';
His worth lang on our minds will print him—
Kind Will MacNeil.
156
But close, my sang; my hamert lays
Are far unfit to speak his praise;
Our happy nights, our happy days,
Fareweel, fareweel!
Now dowie, mute—tears speak our waes
For Will MacNeil!
Are far unfit to speak his praise;
Our happy nights, our happy days,
Fareweel, fareweel!
Now dowie, mute—tears speak our waes
For Will MacNeil!
THE CONTRARY.
Get up, my Muse, and sound thy chanter,
Nae langer wi' our feelings saunter;
Ilk true-blue Scot, get up and canter,
He 's hale and weel!
And lang may Fate keep aff mischanter
Frae Will MacNeil.
Nae langer wi' our feelings saunter;
Ilk true-blue Scot, get up and canter,
He 's hale and weel!
And lang may Fate keep aff mischanter
Frae Will MacNeil.
A contemporary of Tannahill's, born in Kilbarchan; apprenticed to the weaving trade, which he abandoned for school teaching. Latterly he entered Glasgow University, and qualified as a surgeon; but there is no record of his having completed his course. He, however, opened a druggist shop in Old Kilpatrick, and was popularly called “Doctor MacNeil.”
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