But sorrow's sell wears past, Jean, And joy's comin fast, Jean, The joy that's ay to last In the land o' the leal. Our friends are a' gane, Jean, In the land o' the leal. Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean, THE HARPER OF MULL. WHEN Rosie was faithful, how happy was I, my I wander the glens and the wild woods alane, As slumb'ring I lay by the dark mountain stream, I thought her still kind, and I ne'er was sae blest, As in fancy I clasp'd the dear nymph to my breast. Thou false fleeting vision, too soon thou wert o'er; Thou wak'd'st me to tortures unequall'd before; But death's silent slumbers my griefs soon shall lull, And the green grass wave over the Harper of Mull. * At a convivial meeting, where ROBERT TANNAHILL was present, a dispute arose about the chastity of the fair, and their fidelity to the marriage vow. ROBERT, although disappointed in the only amour in which he was ever engaged, supported their cause with a firmness and zeal which he was not always accustomed to exhibit. His opponent, who laboured under the gloom of disappointment, wishing to support his argument by example, hurried over a long list of unfaithfuls, and ended his harangue by reciting the infidelity of ROSIE, and the sorrows of the unhappy Harper of Mull. The Bard listened with attention; and such was the impression made on his mind, that in a few days he presented his friends with the above beautiful song. The original story is long and interesting, occupying many pages of the Bee, a periodical work published a number of years since in Edinburgh. It is briefly as follows:-" In the island of Mull lived a harper, conspicuous for nothing so much as his exquisite performance on that instrument, and his attachment to a lovely rosy-cheeked nymph, who was esteemed by the inhabitants of the island as the sweetest object ever formed by the hand of nature. As the har per was universally esteemed and admired for his sprightly ap pearance, and the affectionate simplicity of his manners, he soon gained the heart of his ROSIE, and in a few weeks after he made her his bride. Soon after the nuptial ceremony was performed, he set out on a visit to some low country friends, accompanied by his Rosie, and his harp, which had been a companion to him in all his journies for many years. Overtaken by the shades of night, in a solitary part of the country, a cold and shivering faintness fell upon ROSIE, and she sunk almost lifeless into the harper's arms. His tartan plaid he unbound from his arm, and hastily wrapped it round her shivering frame, but the cold sweat still ELIZA. TUNE-" Gilderoy." FROM thee, Eliza, I must go, Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, And thine that latest sigh. gathered on her bloodless cheek, like the silver dew on the lily's leaf. Distracted and alarmed, he hurried in wild disorder from place to place, in search of fuel to revive the dying ember of life. None could be found. His harp lay carelessly on the grass. Its neglected strings vibrated to the blast. The harper loved it dear as his own life, but he loved his ROSIE better than either. His nervous arms were applied to its sides, and in a few minutes it lay crackling on the heath. ROSIE soon revived, and resumed her journey as soon as morning began to purple the east. Stepping down the sloping side of a hill, they were met by a hunter on horseback, who addressed Rosie in the style of an old and familiar friend. The harper, innocent himself, and unsuspicious of others, paced slowly down the hill. Wondering at his ROSIE'S delay, he turned round and saw the faithless fair seated on the hunter's steed. The horse flew swift as the wind. The harper, transfixed in astonishment, gazed at them. Then pacing heavily home, he, sighing, exclaimed,- Fool that I was to burn my HARP for her.'" MAGGIE LAUDER. WHA wadna be in love Wi' bonnie Maggie Lauder; A piper met her gaun to Fife, And spier'd what was't they ca'd her? Jog on your gate, you bladderskate, Maggie, quoth he, and by my bags, My name is Rob the Ranter; Piper, quoth Meg, hae you your bags? Then to his bags he flew wi' speed, 'Tis worth my while to play, indeed, Weel hae you play'd your part, quoth Meg, The cantie spring scarce rear'd her head, Then Rob made bonnie Meg his bride, He play'd the auld "East Nook o' Fife," For he made Anster town to ring; For a' the talk an' loud reports An' since the marriage knot was ty'd, For he lo'es Maggy as his life, An' Meg lo'es Rob the Ranter. |