Robert Tannahill

“ Now naething is heard but the wind whistling drearie,
⁠And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw.
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie,
⁠They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee ”

“ The Lass o’ Arranteenie.
[Tannahill.—Music by R. A. Smith.—Arranteenie or Ardentinny is beautifully situated on the banks of Loch Long. The song was written by Tannahili from hearing a friend describe with rapture a young woman whom he had accidentally met there, in a Highland excursion.]
Far lone amang the Highland hills,
⁠Midst nature's wildest grandeur,
By rocky dens and woody glens,
⁠With weary steps I wander. ”

“ BY TANNAHILL.
[The following songs, by Robert Tannahill, are, so far as is known to us, here printed for the first time. We were favoured with them by the poet's brother, Mr. Matthew Tannahill of Paisley, who says they were composed when their author was about 16 or 17 years of age. The first is to the old air of "Good night and joy be wi' you a'" The second is to the tune of "The Lea Rig."]
I.
The evening sun's gaen down the west,
⁠The birds sit nodding on the tree;
All nature now prepares for rest,
⁠But rest prepared there's none for me. ”

“ Countess of Loudon—and the song is supposed to depict the parting of the soldier and his young bride. Nothing could exceed its popularity during many years of the war, and it is still a favourite. In 1816, while Governor-General of India, the earl of Moira was created marquis of Hastings: he returned to England in 1823 or 23, and visited Loudon castle, but died at Malta in 1824, of which place had been appointed governor. ”

“ That aye seem'd sae blythe wi' my dear Highland laddie, O.
The blae-berry banks now are lonesome and dreary, O,
Muddy are the streams that gush'd down sae clearly, O,
Silent are the rocks that echoed sae gladly, O,
The wild melting strains o' my dear Highland laddie, O.
He pu'd me the crawberry, ripe frae the boggy fen,
He pu'd me the strawberry, red frae the foggy glen,
He pu'd me the rowan frae the wild steep sae giddy, O,
Sae loving and kind was my dear Highland laddie, O.
Fareweel, my ewes, and fareweel, my doggie, O,
Fareweel, ye knowes, now sae cheerless and scroggie, O ”

“ Still the weary moments counting,
⁠Far frae love and thee, laddie.
Ower ths gory fields o' war,
Where Vengeance drives his crimson car,
Thou'lt maybe fa', frae me afar,
⁠And nane to close thy e'e, laddie. ”

“ I thought it was the place we set,
⁠And waited maist till dawning morn.
Sae be na vex'd, my bonnie lassie,
⁠Let my waiting stand for thine,
We'll awa' to Craigton shaw,
⁠And seek the joys we tint yestreen. ”

“ But, weel I wat, our bridal bed
⁠Was clean pease strae.
Wi' working late and early,
⁠We're come to what you see;
For fortune thrave aneath our hands,
⁠Sae eydent aye were we.
The lowe o' love made labour light ”

“ Gloomy Winter.
[This fine song was written by Tannahill about the year 1808, and the music arranged by R. A. Smith from what was considered an old air, called "Lord Balgonie's Favourite." The editor, however, of Albyn's Anthology (Alexander Campbell) afterwards claimed the air as his own.] ”

“ The poet," he adds, "had no particular fair one in his eye at the time, and Jessie was quite an imaginary personage." The truth is, Tannahill wrote the words to supplant the old coarse song, called "Bob o' Dunblane"—hence the title. ”

“ Our bonnie Scots lads.
[Robert Tannahill.—Set to music by R. A. Smith.]
Our bonnie Scots lads, in their green tartan plaids,
⁠Their blue-belted bonnets, and feathers sae braw,
Rank'd up on the green were fair to be seen,
⁠But my bonnie young laddie was fairest of a'. ”