Chronicles of the Canongate, 1st Series

‘Great is my esteem for the maiden
Who parted from me by the west side of the enclosed field;
Late yet again will she linger in that fold,
Long after the kine are assembled.
It is I myself who have taken no dislike to thee,
Though far away from thee am I now.
It is for the thought of thee that sleep flies from me;
Great is the profit to me of thy parting kiss!
EASY IS MY BED, ETC.

‘Dear to me are the boundaries of the forest;
Far from Creiff is my heart;
My remembrance is of the hillocks of sheep,
And the heath of many knolls.
Oh for the red-streaked fissures of the rock,
Where in spring time the fawns leap;
Oh for the crags towards which the wind is blowing —
Cheap would be my bed to be there!
EASY IS MY BED, ETC.’

“The following describes Rob’s feelings on the first discovery of his damsel’s infidelity. The airs of both these pieces are his own, and, the Highland ladies say, very beautiful.

‘Heavy to me is the shieling, and the hum that is in it,
Since the ear that was wont to listen is now no more on the
watch.
Where is Isabel, the courteous, the conversable, a sister in
kindness?
Where is Anne, the slender-browed, the turret-breasted, whose
glossy hair pleased me when yet a boy?
HEICH!  WHAT AN HOUR WAS MY RETURNING!
PAIN SUCH AS THAT SUNSET BROUGHT, WHAT AVAILETH ME TO TELL IT?

‘I traversed the fold, and upward among the trees —
Each place, far and near, wherein I was wont to salute my
love.
When I looked down from the crag, and beheld the fair-haired
stranger dallying with his bride,
I wished I had never revisited the glen of my dreams.
SUCH THINGS CAME INTO MY HEART AS THAT SUN WAS GOING DOWN,
A PAIN OF WHICH I SHALL NEVER BE RID, WHAT AVAILETH ME TO TELL
IT?

‘Since it has been heard that the carpenter had persuaded thee,
My sleep is disturbed – busy is foolishness within me at
midnight.
The kindness that has been between us, I cannot shake off that
memory in visions;
Thou callest me not to thy side; but love is to me for a
messenger.
THERE IS STRIFE WITHIN ME, AND I TOSS TO BE AT LIBERTY;
AND EVER THE CLOSER IT CLINGS, AND THE DELUSION IS GROWING TO
ME AS A TREE.

‘Anne, yellow-haired daughter of Donald, surely thou knowest
not how it is with me —
That it is old love, unrepaid, which has worn down from me my
strength;
That when far from thee, beyond many mountains, the wound in
my heart was throbbing,
Stirring, and searching for ever, as when I sat beside thee on
the turf.
NOW, THEN, HEAR ME THIS ONCE, IF FOR EVER I AM TO BE WITHOUT
THEE,
MY SPIRIT IS BROKEN – GIVE ME ONE KISS ERE I LEAVE THIS LAND!

‘Haughtily and scornfully the maid looked upon me: —
Never will it be work for thy fingers to unloose the band from
my curls.
Thou hast been absent a twelvemonth, and six were seeking me
diligently;
Was thy superiority so high that there should be no end of
abiding for thee?
HA!  HA!  HA!  HAST THOU AT LAST BECOME SICK?
IS IT LOVE THAT IS TO GIVE DEATH TO THEE?  SURELY THE ENEMY
HAS BEEN IN NO HASTE.

‘But how shall I hate thee, even though towards me thou hast
become cold?
When my discourse is most angry concerning thy name in thine
absence,
Of sudden thine image, with its old dearness, comes visibly
into my mind,
And a secret voice whispers that love will yet prevail!
AND I BECOME SURETY FOR IT ANEW, DARLING,
AND IT SPRINGS UP AT THAT HOUR LOFTY AS A TOWER.’

“Rude and bald as these things appear in a verbal translation, and rough as they might possibly appear, even were the originals intelligible, we confess we are disposed to think they would of themselves justify Dr. Mackay (their Editor) in placing this herdsman-lover among the true sons of song.” – QUARTERLY REVIEW, NO. XC., JULY 1831.