University of Virginia Library

[OMITTED] ‘Johnny
Was a fiddler good and gay,
And had been from his earliest day. [OMITTED]

‘'Mid music Johnny passed his life,—
His fiddle was his friend and wife;
He'd played at many a harvest feast
In Scotia's isle from west to east;
Had seen the smiles of ladies bonny,—
But nought could move the heart of Johnny—
Nor maid, nor widow, high nor low,
To him seemed worth his fiddle-bow.
But Time, that old officious meddler,
At length o'ercame the hardy fiddler;
And, waggling thro' this world of trouble,
His legs began to fold and double;
But, when they fairly failed to move,
Then Johnny turned his heart to love,
And courted Maggy i'the glen,
A stately dame of five-feet-ten.

‘Maggy, in forty years of life,
Was thrice a bride, and thrice a wife;
And thrice in weeds of blackest hue,
Had wept the old and won the new. [OMITTED]
Thro' walls that have been often breached,
The citadel is easy reached:
Thus Maggy, unprepared for siege,
Conducted by experienced age,
After an hour of strong temptation,
Made fair and full capitulation.

‘The day was set and trusty pages
Sent forth to summon in the lieges. [OMITTED]

All he loved or knew were bidden
To dance at his propitious weddin';
And when the appointed morn of pride
Arose on Johnny and his bride,
On every road a lengthened train
Was seen approaching Maggy's glen:
Shepherds from neighbouring hills arrayed
In bonnet blue, and tartan plaid,
With country lasses from the farm,
Came gaily laughing arm in arm;
With these appeared in moleskin jackets,
And shoon well shod with iron tackets,
With fustain breeks, and furrowed stockings,
A host of ploughmen from their yokings;
And with each gallant in the throng
A buxom maiden bounced along,
With ribboned hair, and muslin gown,
Which gaily swept the gowany down.
Sailors rejoicing in the sport,
Came flocking from the neighbouring port,
In canvass trousers tightly braced
Around each much diminished waist;
And giggling girls from Borough bowers,
In bonnets graced with knots and flowers,
With flapping shawl, and flowing veil
Came scudding on before the gale.
From reeky Frantlam's crowded streets
Weavers appeared in troops and fleets,
Their dingy night-caps red and blue,
Thrown by for hats of blackest hue,
Gave an appearance brisk and smart
To each bold youngster's upper part;
With these, their pirn-winders drest
And dizzened in their very best,
Glad to escape from swifts and wheels,
To rax their limbs in rustic reels,
Came featly forth and thronged the road,
Altho' it was both long and broad.
Tinkers poured forth from camps and tents,
Where they had lodged on moors and bents,
And gaily left unclouted kettles,
Forgotten 'mid unmelted metals,
With grim but friendly smiles to cheer
The fiddler's feast, and taste his beer.
Gay beggars, lame and lyart-headed,
Who long for charity had pleaded
With success good and bad by turns,
Came limping o'er the dykes and burns.
Pipers, who in his early tours
Had spent with him delightful hours
In barn, and byre, and stable-loft,
Where they had nestled warm and soft,
In solemn droves, were seen to saunter,
With ribbands at each drone and chanter.
Fiddlers of all degrees and stations,
Of various languages and nations,
Hibernian, English, Welsh, and Scottish;
Some young and gay, some old and sottish;
From the street bowman blind and lame,
To minstrel of reputed fame,—
Some richly dressed, some scuffed and bare,
A motley crew were gathering there.
The gentle violiners, whose faces
Seemed formed for manners, smiles, and graces,
Were graced and paged by orphan boys,
Who bore their instruments of noise,
Which churls of ruder garb and mien
Flung o'er their backs in bags of green,
And bounced along with boast and bluster
To mingle in the general muster. [OMITTED]

‘And when the day again was done
The sport seem'd only but begun;
And Morning from her misty cloud
Looked on an undiminished crowd,
For gentle strangers came and went,
Like pilgrims to a prophet's tent.

‘Maggy like antelope or izard,
Or ape bedeck'd with mortal vizard,
Led up the dance with bounding feet,
Which hourly seem'd to grow more fleet;
While crazy Johnny sat and gazed,
And bit his lip and glibly praised,—
Till, overcome by love and transport,
He too gat up to try a dance for't,
With youthful air flung down his fiddle,
And seized his pike-staff by the middle,
Firmly resolved that all should see
His strength and his agility.

‘His guests came round him in a ring,
As courtiers gather round their king,
Tho' not to rev'rence but to laugh
At the poor hero of the staff.
Johnny inflamed by love and pride
Stood stoutly to his bounding bride,
And bravely strove his feet to move—
But both denied the call of love.
Yet he had no prevailing notion
To stand while all around was motion;
Inspired by Maggy's peerless charms—
Maugre his feet, he waved his arms
Forgetful of the staff—Alas!
That such a doom should come to pass—
That motion of unbounded mirth
Brought Johnny headlong to the earth!
The falling staff with fearful blow
Shivered the chief musician's bow;
And there was worse and greater wreck,
For Johnny fairly broke his neck!—
And mirth, and dance, and music failing
The bridal shout was changed for wailing,
For sorrow poured from every quarter,
On the poor matrimonial martyr, [OMITTED]
Who left his Maggy but the dead
To fill her widowed bridal-bed.

‘Thus ends my tale. The crowd departed—
I will not say, half broken-hearted.—
But Johnny's death affords a moral
To every time-worn amorous carle,
Whose wanton eyes begin to rove,
When his stiff limbs refuse to move.’