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Text
C O L I N
AND
A FAVOURITE
L U C Y .
BALLAD.
BY
M R .
T I C K E L .
T o which is added,
A N
E
L
E
G
Y
W R I T T E N ON THE
P L A I N
O F
F O N T
E N O Y.
Of LEINSTER famV for maidens fair,
Bright LUCY ivas the grace;
*STor e'er did LIFFY'S limpid f i r earn
Refleft a fairer
face.
G L A S G O W :
PRINTED
FOR AND SOLD
Brafh
h
Reid.
BY
�C O L I N AND LUCY*
A FAVOURITE
BALLAD,
I.
O F Lelnjler fam'd for maidens faiiy
Bright LUCY was the grace;
Nor e'er did Liffy's. iimpid ftream
Reflect a fairer face.,
II.
'Till lucklefs love and pining care
Impaired her rofy hue,
Her dainty lip, her damalk chcek s
A n d eyes of gloffy blue.
III.
A h ! have you feen z lily pale
When beating rains defcend?"
So droop'd this flow-confuming maid^.
Her life now near its end.
IV.
By LUCY warn'd, of flattering fwainsTake heed, ye eafy fair !
Of vengeance due to broken vow?,
Y e flatt'ring fwainsj beware!
�{ 3 )
V.
T h r e e times all in the dead of night
A bell was hear'd to ring;
And at her window, ftirieking thrice,
The raven flap'd his wing.
VI.
Full well the love-lorn maiden knew
The folemn-boding found,
And thus in dying words befpoka
The virgin® weeping round.
VII.
I hear a voice you cannot* hear,
" That cries I muft not ftay;
" I fee a hand you cannot fee,
" That beckons me away.
M
VIII.
« Of a falfe Twain, and broken hearty
" In early youth I die:
" A m I to blame, becaufe the brid*
" Is twice as rich as I ?
IX.
Ci
Ah,
C O L I N , g i v e n o t h e r t h y VOWS,
" Vows due to me alone !
" Nor thou, raih girl, receive his lufs,
" Nor think him all thy owol
X.
" To-morrow in the church, to wed,
" Impatient both prepare;
" But know, falfe man, and know, i'JDd
" Poor LȴCY will be there,,
�( 4 )
XI.
" Then bear my corfe, ye comrades dear*
" The bridegroom blithe to meet;
c< He in hjs wedding-trim fo gay,
" I in my winding-fheet!"
v X R
She fpolte, fhe dy'd/ her corfe was borne
The bridegroom blithe to jncet;
I le in his wedding-trim fo gay,
She in her winding-fheet.
XIII.
What then were COUIN'S dreadful thoughts?
How were thcfe nuptials kept?
The bride's-men flock'd round LUCY dead,
And all the village wept.
XIV.
.Compaffion, fhame, remorfe, defpair,
A t once his bofom fwelh
The damps of death bedew'd his brow,
He grcan'd, he fhook, he fell.
XV.
From\he vain bride, a bride no more*
The varying crimfon fled;
When, ftretch'd befide her rival's corfe.
She faw her lover dead.
XVI.
He to his LUCY'S new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling fwains;
Is the fame mould, beneath one foci,
Fcr-ever now remains.
�(
5
)
XVII.
Oft at this place the conftant hind
A n d plighted maid are feen;
W i t h garlands gay, and true-love knots
They aeck'd the facred green,
XVIII.
But, fwain forefworn, whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd ground forbear!
Remember CoLIN'S dreadful fate,
A n d fear to meet him there.
E
L
E
G
Y
,
W R I T T E N ON THE
P L A I N OF FONTENOY.
I.
C H I L L blows the blaft, and Twilight's dewy hand:
Draws in the^Weft her duiky veil away;
A deeper fhadow fteals along the land,
A n d N A T U R E m u f e s a t t h e DEATH o f D A Y !
II.
Near this bleak Wafte no friendly manfion rears
Its walls, where Mirth and focial joys refound,
But each dim objed: melts the foul to tears,
While Horror treads thr icatter'd bones around.
�III.
A s thus, alone and comfortlefs I ream,
W e t with the drizling fnow'r; I figh fincene,
I caft a look towards my native home,
A n d think what-valiant BRITONS perifh'D here.
IV.
Yes, the time was, not very far the date,
W h e n carnage here her crimfon toil began;
W h e n Nations' Standards wav'd in threat'ning flate^.
A n d Man the murd'rer met the murd'rer Man.
V.
For WAR is MURDER, tho' the voice of Slings
Has ftyl'd it Juftice, ftyl'd it Glory too!
Yet from worft motives, fierce Ambition fprings,
A n d there, fix'd Prejudice is all we view!
VI.
"But fure, 'tis Heaven's immutable decree,
For thoufands ev'ry age in % h t to fall;
Some NAT'RAL CAUSE prevails, we cannot fe^,
A n d that is FATE, which w e Ambition caiL
VII.
O let th' afpiring Warrior think with grief,
That as produe'd by CKVMIC art refm'd;—
So glitt'ring CONQUEST, from the laurel-leaf
E x t r a & s a GEN'RAL POISON f o r M a n k i n d .
VIII.
Here let him wander at the midnight hour,
T h e f e morbid rains, theft? gelid gales to meet;
A n d mourn like m e , the ravages of P o w ' r !
A n d feel i:kc m e , that V i & ' r y is d e f e a t !
�(
7
)
IX.
Nor deem, ye vain! that e'er I mean to fwelf
M y feeble Verfe w i t h many a founding Name;
Of fuch, the mercenary Bard may tell,
A n d call fuch dreary defolation, Fame.
X.
The genuine M u f e removes the thin difguife,
That cheats the World, whene'er fhe deigns to fing
A n d full as meritorious to her eyes
Seems the Poor Soldier, as the Mighty King!
XI.
Alike I ftiun in labour'd ftrain to fhow,
How BRITAIN more than triumph'd, tho lhe*fled,
Where LOUIS flood, where ftalk'd the column f l o w ;
I turn f r o m thefe, and DWELL UPON THE DEAD.
XII.
Yet much my beating breaft refpedU the brave.;
Too well I love them, not to mourn their f a t e r
W h y fhould they feek for greatnefsin the Grave?
Their hearts are noble—and in life they're great*
XIII.
Nor think 'tis but in W a r the Brave excel,—»
T o V A L O U R EV'RY V I R T U E IS ALLIED !
Here faithful Friendfhip 'mid the Battle fell,
A n d Love, true Love, in bitter anguifh died.
XIV.
Alas! the folemn flaughter I retrace,
That checks life's current circling thro' my veins^
Bath'd in moift forrow, many a beauteous face;
A n d gave a grief, perhaps, that Hill remains*
�C 8
)
xv.
^ can no more—an agony too keen
Abforbs my fenfes, and my mind fubdues,
Hard were that heart which here cotild beat ierengy
Or the juft tribute of a pang refufe.
XVI.
But lo! thro' yonder op'ning cIouds*afar
Shoots the bright planet's fanguinary ray
jTh&t bears thy name, FICTITIOUS LORD OF WAR!
j A n d with, red luftre guides my lonely way.
XVII.
[Then FONTENOY, farewell! Yet much I fear,
(Wherever chance my courfe compels) to find
Difcordand' blood—the thrilling founds I hear,
" The noife <Jf battles hurtles in the wind."
XVIII.
From barb'rous Turkey to Britannia's fhore,
I Oppofing int r reils into rage increafe;
Jleflru&ion rears her fceptre, tumults roar,
A h ! where fhall haplefs man repofe in pcace!
F I N I &
�
Document
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Title
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Colin and Lucy. A favourite ballad. By Mr. Tickel. To which is added, an elegy written on the plain of fontenoy.
Alternative Title
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To which is added, an elegy written on the plain of fontenoy.
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923287383505154">s0343b33</a>
Description
An account of the resource
Quote on title page: "Of Leinster fam'd for maidens fair, bright Lucy was the grace; Nor e'er did Liffy's limpid stream reflect a fairer face."
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
14 cm
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1798 per National Library of Scotland
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Subject
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Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Glasgow: Brash & Reid
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
ballads & songs
elegy
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1791-1800
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Genre: elegy
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Brash & Reid
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PDF Text
Text
THE
C
A
O
C
FAMILIAR
K
E
D
P I S T O L :
EPISTLE
TO
MR.
JAMES
MORTON,
Precentor in the Abbey Kirk, Paiflcv,
REQUESTING
HIS
ADVICE
ON
MATRIMONY;
WITH
H
I S
A
N S W
E
R,
CONTAINING
IlULES F Q R CHUSING A WIFE."
The Letter-gae
of Holy
.
Rhymfy
Sat up at the board-head^
Jind a hefaid ivas. thought a crime
To contradict indeed.
For in clark lear he ivas r'hwt prime,
uind cot?d haith ivrits and rfad.
C H R I S T ' S K I R K ON T H E
«-—
GLASGOW:
PRINTED
Brain
FOR
&
AND
SOLD
R d d .
BY
GREEN-
�E P I S T L E
pA
I
s
T O
L E
J. M .
r.
I.
D E A R Friend, ye'll hardly now remember,
You wrote to me in laft December;
But my Mufe, cauld as deeing ember,
Had tint her fpunk,
Or turn'd as lazy, lith and member,
As ane dead drunk,
II.
Your blythe Epiftle then I got,
As nice, I wat, as e'er was wrote,
Which I have without flaw or blot
Lodg'd in my min%
And learn'd quite perfe6t a' by rot,
Nae mair to tine.
III.
I'm glad to hear ye hae your HEALTH,
As that's " fuperior far to wealth,"
T o keep it—fhun a' fecret ftealth
That Quack; pretend,
And put nae faith in a' the filth
That Bettors vend.
IV.
Waes mel for thefe poor lucklefs chiels,
Compel?d to fight with drugs and pills,
�(
3
)
Young harum-fkarum daft run deels,
T o pleafure flavesj
For its purfuit o'er moiiy wheels
T o timelefs graves.
V.
A youngfter flands on kittle ground,
Strong the temptations him furround,
And in fuch plealing fhapes abound,
Alas! on trial,
How fiiall he to them a7 be found
T o give denial I
VI.
For fometime paft, I've ta'eja a notion,
On viewing Time in fleeting motion,
And finglelife a taftelefs potion,
And far frae good>
T o fome fweet lafs to pay devotion
In ferious mood.
VII.
For as temptations are fae rife,
T o fhun them a', I'd wifh a wife,
Wha'd half with me the ills of life,
As weel's its joys,
And bring me, to keep down a' ftrife,
Sweet girls and boys*
VIII.
Yet I wad rather bide my fate,
Than join in matrimonial flate,
With an ill-temper'd, canker'd mater
Of captious mood;
f o r then, I'm fure, I'd tine the gate
Of a' that's good.
�f
4
)
IX.
O how difgufting 'tis to fee
A man and wife who difagree!
They fcrateh and fight, and 'till they die
Ne'er end their ails,
Juft like twar cats hung o'er a tree
Tied by the tails.
X.
But O , how happy is the youth,
Whofe mate does all his forrows foothe?
His tide of life glides on full fmooth!
Her native charms,Sweet-fmiling innocence and truth,
Delight his arms.
XT.
0 may inch happy fate be mine,
As, aft ye've tauld me has been thine,
"At Fortune then I'll ne'er repine,
Whate'er fhe gie,
Nor care how aft fhe wane or ftiine,
A brown babee.
XII.
This fuhje&'s of fuch ferious fort,
1 beg ye'll think me not in fport,.
But fold that full and wife report
Ye weel can give,
And trouth, my friend, I'll thank ye f o r t
As lang's 1 live.
. .
XIII.
Waes me, I now my pen maun drcp,
T k o ' very laith I am to flop,
�(
5
)
But he that's hurried in a ftiop
Buying and felling,
Dare not to gie dame Fancy fcope,
T h o ' e'er fae willing.
XIV.
Meantime, that Marriage mayna ftan',
I beg ye'll write me, free affhan',
In hamely verfe, your wifeit plan,
And I'll be fteady,
F o r , like a COCKEI>PISTOL, man
I'm juft as ready.
GLASGOW.
W .
R.
A N S W E R
FROM
J. M .
PAISLEY,
T O T H E PRECEDING
EPISTLE,
CONTAINING RULES FOR CHUSING A WIFE,
I.
W H A N E'ER, my Friend, I cooft my e'e
On thy Epiftle fent to me,
In ftyle fae pithy, frank and free,
Sae couth and clever,
I fwore that ye in poetrie
Wadftiinefor ever.
�(
6
)
II.
Your caution's glide my " health to raife
" Mind not what Quack or Doctor fays.
As I hae feckly a' my days
Kend nae difeafe,
I pity ony cliiel wha pays
Their coflly feesi
III.
W o w but it gied me joy to hear
Your reafoning fae jull and clear
On youth's temptations, which I fear
O'er few withftand;
A wife's the thing a man to chear
In love's faft band.
IV.
Few rules for courting ye can heed,
While on your ftiouthers fic a head,
Sin' ye are not o'er-run wi' greed
O ' gowd and filler,
W o o wha ye like, ye maun come fpeed,
Gin ye haud till
V.
But O ! avoid a gilly-gawky, .
Or faft indulged raammie's tawpy,
Perchance inclin'd to tafte the whauky:
And ne'er ca' thine
Her wha parades upo* the caufeway,
For fake t)' fhine*
VI.
Wale not a wit—and fhun an afs,
But take fome thrifty fonfy lafs>.
�(
7
)
W h a lets not precious minutes pafs
Herfel' adorning,
By glowring twa hours in the glafs
On ilka morning,
VII.
Altho' misfortune's Ihould be rife,
Still hath the married man belt life,
For 'midli a' fortune's plague and llrife,
He ftill hath pleafure,
And finds his thrifty virtuous wife
A real treafure.
VIII.
Gin fie a gude lafs fill your arms,
Ye'll never tire o* her fweet charms;
Your mind fhe'll lirive in all alarms
T o mak' it eafy,
And keep ye out o ' many harms
That fair might teeze
IX.
I low great's the pleafure of this life
Blefl v. ith a chafte and virtuous wife,
When pledges of your love fu' rife
Tott round tne table,
Liipicg their fma' tauk free o' llrife,
As weel's they're able
X.
When to your meals ye do come in,
Ye'll a* things in nice order fin',
Your childer a' ambitious rin,
T o jump your knees,
And every thing the Louie within,
Confpir.es to pleafe.
�(
8
)
XI.
And then when ye come hame at e'en,
The fire is briik, the hearthftane clean,
And every thing a' braw and been,
The weans too bedded
Syne down ye fit, and crack bedeen,
How a's been fteaded.
XII.
Compare this wi' thefe ftupid chiels,
Wha're fighting clofe wi' drugs and pills,
And rin to ruin on their heels,
0 fy for fliame!
T notice that ye ca' them de'ils,
1 do the fame.
XIII.
T o Marriage then, mak nae mair Hand,
But tak' fome lafiie by the hand,
T h o ' neither rich in gowd or land,
To" her haud fteady,
A s PISTOL COCK'D, and on demand,
M y lug file's ready.
XIY.
N o w , my.gude friend, as an adieu,
I'll fay I've gi'en advice to you,
Which I am fure ye'll never rue,
As lang's ye live:
On trial, if 'tis not found true,
Me ne'er believe.
�
Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The cocked pistol: a familiar epistle to mr. James Morton, precentor in the Abbey Kirk, Paisley, requesting his advice on matrimony; with his answer, containing rules for chosing a wife.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9923287173505154">s0343b22</a>
Description
An account of the resource
Quote on front page: "The Letter-gae of Holy Rhyme, Set up at the board-head, And a' he faid was thought a crime To contradict indeed. For in clark lear he was right prime, And con'd baith write and read. Christ's Kirk on the Green."
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
14 cm
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1795 per National Library of Scotland
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Brash & Reid
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Courtship and Marriage
Poetry
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1791-1800
Chapbook Genre: poetry
Chapbook Genre: romance
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Brash & Reid
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Document
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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The Life of the Duke of Wellington; containing an account of his early life; his brilliant achievements in the Peninsular Wars; and his crowning victory at Waterloo.
Date
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1850
Extent
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24 pages.
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133963505154">s0098b48</a>
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #30 in a bound collection of 34 chapbooks
Description
An account of the resource
"Price One Penny" at bottom of title page
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Subject
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Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
biography
War
Wellesley, Arthur, 1st duke of Wellington, 1769-1852
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: battles/war
Chapbook Genre: biography
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
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Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Evan’s Sketch of all Religions a<span>bridged : exhibiting a concise view </span><span class="searchword">of</span><span> the different sects and denominations into which the Christian world is divided.</span>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1851
Extent
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24 pages
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133963505154">s0098b48</a>
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #29 in a bound collection of 34 chapbooks
Abstract
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A brief review of many different religions practiced at this time with a focus on the different sects of Christianity. Paganism, Deism, Atheism, Judaism, and Islam are also covered in addition to the various Christian religions, but the sects of Christianity receive the greatest attention by far. The section on Paganism is particularly interesting as all religions not listed above are lumped into this category and many atrocities, such as human sacrifice, infanticide, spousal sacrifice, and cannibalism, are attributed to this group.
Description
An account of the resource
"Price one penny." on title-page
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Religion and Morals
Islam
Judaism
Christianity
Is Referenced By
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1851-1860
Chapbook Genre: religion & morals
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Printed for the Booksellers
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Document
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Dublin Core
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Title
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A Night Frae Hame, Oration on Teetolization, and Parody on the Last Rose of Summer
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1842
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133963505154">s0098b48</a>
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #21 in a bound collection of 34 chapbooks
Abstract
A summary of the resource.
This song tells the humorous story of a young man who gets caught up in a tavern brawl after a night of drinking, with many descriptions of common Vices and Virtues which are involved. The song is followed by a speech that extolls the virtues of abstinence from alcohol and the evils of drinking, all in rhyme. The collection concludes with a short humorous song about the last coin in a purse which is spent on a drink at a tavern
Subject
The topic of the resource
Ballads and songs
Chapbooks - Scotland - Paisley
Wit and Humor
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Is Referenced By
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<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
Extent
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8 pages
Description
An account of the resource
In verse
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Paisley: G. Caldwell and Son
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Genre: wit & humor
Chapbook Publisher - Paisley: G. Caldwell and Son
-
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PDF Text
Text
9MMU
mmem**
THE
i I'M"
i I i
OLD SCOTTISH TRAGICAL
BALLAD
OF
SIR JAMES THE ROSE
Of all the Scottish northern chiefs,
Of high' and warlike name,
The bravest was Sir James the Rose,
A knight of meikle fame.
DUNDEE
P
r
i
n
t
e
d
f o k J T H E
B O O K S E L L E R S .
K
•k
�SIR .TAMES
HUT
THE
ROSE.
JA3IO/HT HHTTO)* <|JO
m
ill I the Scottish norihern chiefs,
.
.
< >f hisjfi . Mtirl warfikc name,
it \
— ;| w t £ sir James the Hose
A kifiuht of meifee i'iftne.1
i\
I
i
His growth wa> like the youthful oak,
That crowns the mountain's brow,
And waving o'er his shoulders broad.
His locks of yellow flew.
#
••
Wide were hisjlmlds, his herds were large,
And large his flocks of sheep,
And numerous were his goats and deer,
Upon the mountains steep.
The chieftain of the good clan Rose,
A firm and warlike band,
Five hundred warriors drew the sword,
Beneath his high command.
In bloody fight thrice had he stood
Against the English keen,
Ere two and twenty opening springs
The blooming youth had seen.
,
The fair Matilda dear he loved—
A maid to beauty rare ;
Ev'n Margaret on the Scottish throne
Was never half so fair.
• T, ,
.. ,
|/f .
|
�Long had lie wooed, long she r e f u s e ,
With seeming scorn and pride ;
Yet oft her eyes confessed the love
Her fearful words denied.
A t length she blessed his well-tried love
Allowed his tender claim ;
She vowed to him her tender heart.
And owned an equal flame.
Her father. Buclian's cruel lord,
Their passion dis-approved ;
He bade her wed Sir John the G ramie,
And leave the youth she loved.
One night they met as they were wont,
Deep in a shady wood,
Where on the bank beside the burn,
A blooming saugh tree stood.
Concealed among the underwood
The crafty Donald lay,
The brother of Sir John the G ramie,
To watch what they might say.
When thus the maid began, My Sire
Our passion dis-approves,
He bids me wed Sir John the Gramme,
So here must end our loves.
•
My father's will must be obeyed,
Nought boots me to withstand,
Some fairer maid in beauty's bloom
Shall bless you with her hand.
Soon will Matilda be forgot,
And from thy mind effaced ;
But may that happiness be thine,
Which J can never taste,
�4
What do I hear! is this tliy vow ?
Sir James the Rose replied;
And will Matilda wed the Graeme,
Though sworn to be my bride ?
;": • , . iH
His sword shall sooner pierce my heart
Than reave me of thy charms—
And clasped her to his throbbing breast,
Fast locked within his arms.
1 spoke to try thy love, she said,
I'll ne'er wed man but thee ;
The grave shall be my bridal bed
If Graeme my husband be.
i
: ; -•
Then take, dear youth, this faithful kiss
In witness of my troth,
And every plague become my lot,
That day I break my oath—
They parted thus—the sun was let—
Up htfsty Donald flies.
And turn thee, turn thee, beardless youth,
He loud insulting cries.
Soon turned about the fearless chief,
And soon his sword he drew ;
For Donald's blade before his breast,
Had pierced his tartans through.
This for my brother's slighted love,
His wrongs sit on my arm—
Three paces back the youth retired,
And saved himself from harm.
Returning swift his sword he reared,
Fierce Donald's head above ; 0
And through the brain and crashing bone,
Hi» furioas weapon drove, 1
�Life issued at the wound—he fell
A lump of lifeless clay ;
So fall my foes, quoth valient Rose,
Aucl stat'ely strode away.
,(!'?»;:
i
U
Thro' the green wood iu hast he passed,
Urito Lord Buchan's hall,
Beneath Matilda's window stood;
A n d thus on her did c a l l : o I
. n tV»f> oi 'vjl-.ntii i't Hi'l
Art thou asleep, Matilda dear ?
Awake my love awake;
Lehold thy lover waits without,
A long farewell to take.
Avi : n >d) t-i'. !. hi - ! •/
For I have slain fierce Donald Graeme
His blood is.on my sword ;
A n d far, far distant are" my men,
Nor can defend their lord.
.-•jib rnifuuiii 0*10 out /ft
T o Skye I will direct my flight,
Where my brave brothers bide,
Ito raise the mighty- of the Isles,
T o combat 011 my side.
0 do not so the maid replied,
With me till morning stay : ' *
For dark and dreary 4s' the night,
And dangerous is the way.
i! .
All night I'll watch thee in the park,
My faithful page I'll send
In liase to raise the brave clan Rose,
Their master to defend,
•biSJjC::
j s
rj
U!
? •
It /
He laid him down beneath a bush,
And wrapped'liini in his plaid;
While trembling fop her lover's fate,
A t distance stood the maid.
�.6
Fwift ran the page o'er hill and dell,
Till in a lowly glen,
He met the furious Sir John Graeme
With twenty of his men.
Where goest thou little page, he said,
So late ? who did thee send ?
I go to raise the brave clan Rose,
Their master to defend.
For he has slain fierce Donald Graeme
His blood is on his sword,
And far, far distant are his men,
Nor can assist their lord.
And has he slain my brother dear ?
The furious chief replies ;
Dishonour blast my name but he
By me ere morning dies.
Say page where is Sir James the Ros« ?
J will thee well reward—
He sleeps into Lord Buclian's park,
Matilda is his guard.
They spurred their steeds and furious flew
Like lightening o'er the lea ;
They reached Lord Buchan's lofty tower
By dawning of the day.
Matilda stood without the gate,
Upon a rising ground,
And watched each object in the dawn,
All ear to every sound.
Where sleeps the Rose? began the Grame
Or has the felon fled ?
This hand shall lay the wretch on earth,
Uy whom my brother bled,
A
�7
Last day at noon, Matilda said,
Sir James the Ro-e passed by.
Well mounted on his noble steed,
And onward fast did hie.
By this time he's in Edinburgh Town,
If horse and man hold good ;—
Tour page then lied who said he was
Now sleeping in the wood.
She wrung her hands, and tore her hair
Brave Rose thou art betrayed.
And ruined by tlio.e very means'
From whence 1 hoped thine aid.
And now the valiant knight awoke,
The virgin shrieking heard ;
Straight up he rose and drew his sword,
When the fierce band appeared.
Your sword last night my brother slew,
His blood yet dims its shine;
And ere the Sun shall gild the morn,
Your blood shall reek on mine.
Your words are brave, the chief returned,
But deeds approve the man,
Set by your men and hand to hand
We'll try what valour can.
With dauntless step he forward strode,
And dared him to the fight;
The Graeme gave back, he feared his arm
For well he knew his might.
Four of his men, the bravest four,
Sunk down beneath his sword ;
But still he scorned the poor revenge.
And sought their haughty lord.
�a -'
Behind him basely came the Graeme,
And pierced him in the side ;
Out sprouting came the purple stream,
And all his tartans dyed.
But yet his hand dropped not the sword,
Nor sunk he to the ground,
Till through his enemy's heart the steel,
Had forced a mortal wo and.
Grseme, like a tree by wind o'er thrown,
Fell breathless on the clay ;
And down beside him sunk the Rose,
And faint and dying lay.
Matilda saw and fast she ran,
O spare his life, she cried;
Lord Buchan's daughter begs his life,
Let her not be denied.
Her well-known voice the hero heard,
And raised his death closed eyes,
He fixed them on the weeping maid,
And weakly this replies :
In vain Matilda begs a life,
By deaths arrest denied ;
My race is run—adieu, my love •
Then closed his eyes and died.
The sword yet warm from his left side,
With frantic hand she drew ;
I come, Sir James the Rose, she cried,
I come to follow you.
The hilt she leant against the ground,
And bared her snowy breast,
Then fell upon her lovers face,
And sunk to endless rest.
�
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Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Old Scottish Tragical Ballad of Sir James The Rose.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9943895893505154">s0615b42</a>
Extent
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8 pages
19 cm
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[184-?] per National Library of Scotland
Description
An account of the resource
"Of all the Scottish northern chiefs, Of high and warlike name, The bravest was Sir James the Rose, A knight of meikle fame." quoted on title-page
Is Referenced By
A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource.
<a title="University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks" href="http://special.lib.gla.ac.uk/chapbooks/search/">University of Glasgow Union Catalogue of Scottish Chapbooks </a>
<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Accrual Method
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<span>Purchased through </span><span class="searchword">Jane</span><span> </span><span class="searchword">Grier</span><span> Family Trust. 2012</span>
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Dundee: Printed for the Bookseller
Subject
The topic of the resource
Ballads and songs
Courtship and Marriage
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1841-1850
Chapbook Genre: ballads & songs
Chapbook Genre: romance
Chapbook Publisher - Cundee: Printed for the Booksellers
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/5018aea3faa2fed32d61f8f8e307df5e.pdf
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Text
Domejlic Happinefs
Exhibited\
I N
1.
THE
FIRESIDE.
A POJLM.
BY D R . C O T T O N *
H.
JOHN ANDERSON, MY JOE.
IMPROVED.
BY R O B E R T B U R N S .
G L A S G O W :
H I N T E D FOR A N D SOLD BY
Brafli & Reid.
�5 / 9 o
THE
FIRESIDE.
r.
D k A R Cloe, while the b u f y croud*
T h e vain, the w e a l t h y , and the p r o u d .
In folly's maze advance;
T h o ' fingularity and p r i d e
Ee call'd our choice, we'll ftep afide,
N o r join the giddy dance.
II.
F r o m the gay world we'll oft retire
T o our own family and fire,
W h e r e love our hours e m p l o y s ;
N o noify neighbour enters here,
N o intermeddling Granger n e a r ,
T o fpoil our heartfelt joys.
III.
If fobd happinefs we p r i z e ,
W i t h i n our breafi this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam ;
T h e world hath n o t h i n g to beftow,
From our own felves our blifs mud-flow^
A n d that dear hut our home.
�(
3
)
IV.
Of reft: was N o a h ' s dove b e r e f t ,
W h e n with impatient wing f h e left
T h a t fafe r e t r e a t , the a r k ;
Giving her vain excursions o ' e r ,
T h e d i f a p p o j n t e d bird once m o r e
E x p l o r ' d t h e facred b a r k .
V.
Tho* fools f p u r n H y m e n ' s gentle powers.
W e , w h o i m p r o v e his golden hours,
By fweet experience k n o w ,
T h a t marriage, rightly u n d e r f t o o d ,
Gives to t h e t e n d e r and the good*
A p a r a d i f e below.
VI.
Our babes fliall richefl comforts b r i n g ;
If t u t o r ' d right they'll prove a f p r i n g ,
W h e n c e pleafures ever rife :
W e ' l l form their minds w i t h ftudious c a r ^
T o all that's manly, good, and fair,
A n d train t h e m for the ikies.
VII.
While they our wifeft hours engagd,
T h e y ' l l joy our y o u t h , f u p p o r t ourage$
A n d crown our h o a r y hairs;
T h e y ' l l grow in virtue every d a y ,
A n d thus our fondeft loves repay s
A n d recompense our cares*
�£ 4 J
VIII.
Mo borrowed joys! t h e y ' r e all o u r own 8
W h i l e to t h e world we live Unknown,
Or by the world f o r g o t :
M o n a r c h s ! we envy not y o u r ftatey
W e look with pity on the G r e a t ,
A n d blefs o u r h u m b l e lot.
IX.
O u r portion is not large, indeed,
But then how little do we need,
For N a t u r e ' s calls are few !
In this the art of living lies,
T o want no more than m a y fuffice s
A n d make that little do.
X.
W e ' l l t h e r e f o r e felifli with content*
Whate*er kind P r o v i d e n c e has fertt^
N o r aim beyond our power ;
f o r if our (lock be very fmall,
?
Tis p r u d e n c e to enjoy it all,
N o r Iofe the prefent h o u r .
tt.
to be refign'd when ills betide,
P a t i e n t when favours are d e n y ' d ,
A n d pleas'd with favours given
D e a r Cloe, this is wifdom's p a r t ,
"jphis is that incenfe of the h e a r t ,
W h o l e fragrance f m e l k to heaven.
�(
5
)
XII.
W e ' l l afk no long-protra&ed treaty
Since winter-life is feldom f w e e t ;
But when our feaflis o'er,
G r a t e f u l from table we'll arife,
N o r grudge our fons, with envious eyes t
T h e relics of our (lore*
XIII.
T h u s h a n d in hand t h r o ' life we'll g o ;
Its checkered paths of joy and woe
W i t h cautious fteps we'll t r e a d ;
Q u i t its vain fcenes without a tear,
W i t h o u t a trouble, or a fear,
A n d mingle with the dead.
XIV.
W h i l e confc?ence, like a faithful f r i e n d /
Shall t h r o ' the gloomy vale a t t e n d ,
A n d cheer our dying b r e a t h ;
Shall, when all other comforts ceafej
iLike a kind angel w h i f p e r peace,
A ^ d f m o o t h the bed of d e a t h .
#
�JOHN ANDERSON, MY JOE,
X MP R 0 r E D.
I.
J O H N A n d e r f o n , rny joe, J o h n , I wonder w h a t
you mean,
T o rife fo foon in the m o r n i n g , and fit up fo late at
e'en,
Ye'll blear out a* y o u r een, J o h n , and why f h o u l d
you do fo,
© a n g fooner to y o u r bed at e'en, J o h n A n d e r f o n , m y
joe.
It.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe, J o h n , w h a n natiirc fir&
began
T o t r y her canny h a n d , J o h n , h e r mailer-work
was rian ;
A n d you amang them a s J o h n , fo trig f r a e t a p to
toe,
She p r o v ' d to be nae j o u r n e y - w o r k , J o h n A n "
4terfoB s my joe.
�(
7
)
III.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , m y joe, J o h n , ye w e r e m y firfl
conceit,
A n d ye need na t h i n k it ftrange, J o h n , tho* I ca*
ye trim and neat ;
Tho* fbme fock fay ye're a u l d , J o h n , I never t h i n k
ye fo,
But I t h i n k y e ' r e ay t h e fame to me, J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe.
IV.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , m y joe, J o h n , we've feen our b a i r n s
bairns,
A n d yet my dear, John A n d e r f o n , I'm h a p p y in
y o u r arms,
A n d fae are ye in mine, J o h n , I'm f u r e ye'll n e ' e r
fay no,
T h o ' t h e days are gane that we hae feen, J o h n
A n d e r f o n , my joe.
V.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe, J o h n , w h a t p l e a f u r e d o e s
it gie»
T o fee fae mony f p r o u t s , J o h n , f p r i n g u p ' t w e e n
you and m e ,
A n d ilka lad and lafs, J o h n , in o u r footfteps to go
Makes p e r f e A heaven Jiere on e a r t h , J o h n Ajv*
d e r f o n , my joe.
VI.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe, J o h n , w h e n we were firft
acquaint,
Y o u r locks were like the r a v e n , y o u r b o n n y b r o w
was b r e n t .
�{
8
)
But now y o u r head's t u r n ' d bald, J o h n , y o u r locks
are like t h e fnow,
Yet bleffings on y o u r frofty p o w , J o h n A n d e r f o n ,
m y joe,
VII.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe, J o h n , f r a e y e a r to year
we've part,
A n d Toon that year raaun come, J o h n , will b r i n g
us to our laft,
But let n a ' that affright us J o h n , our hearts were
n e ' e r o u r foe,
W h i l e in innocent delight y/e liv'd, J o h n A n d e r fon, my joe,
VIII.
J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe, J o h n , we clarnb the hill
thegither,
A n d mony a canty day, J o h n , we've had vvi' ane
anither;
N o w we maun totter down, J o h n , b u t hand in
b a n d we'll go,
^ n d we'll fleep thegither at the foot, J o h n A n d e r f o n , my joe.
F I N i
4>
S.
�
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3161fa68a8b2339b4dc33b9a03ab3045
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The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Domestic Happiness Exhibited, in I. The Fireside. A Poem. By Dr. Cotton. II. John Anderson, My Joe. Improved
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133953505154">s0141b34</a>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1796?] per National Library of Scotland
Extent
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8 pages
Is Referenced By
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English Short Title Catalogue <span>T34816</span>
<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a>
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #53 in a bound collection of 54 chapbooks
Alternative Title
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The Fireside
John Anderson, My Joe. Improved
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Glasgow
Poetry
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Glasgow: Brash & Reid
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
Creator
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Burns, Robert, 1759-1796
Cotton, Nathaniel, 1705-1788.
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1791-1800
Chapbook Genre: poetry
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Brash & Reid
-
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Text
�P R E F A T O R Y
N O T E .
THE traditions here, respecting the death of Marjory Bruce, are
very scanty. It is said that in hunting, near Renfrew, her horse got
entangled in a mire, or morass, by which she was violently thrown
from her saddle, and that she immediately thereafter expired, having
first given birth to a son, who was afterwards Robert 11. of Scotland.
Her remains, and also her effigy, still lie in the Sounding Aisle of our
Abbey Church. The effigy rests upon what was once, doubtless, the
altar of the church. The place where she met her untimely death is
still shown in a comer of one of the fields of the Knock Farm, and
is, as described by Baston, on the slope of the hill looking towards
Renfrew, and is still a mire. Till within these 40 or 50 years, a
stone cross marked the fatal spot. This cross has been carefully,
though unsuccessfully searched for by the present intelligent occupier of the Knock Farm.
Marjory Bruce, along with her mother, was taken prisoner after the
unfortunate battle of Methven, and carried into England. After the
battle of Bannockburn, however, they were both released ; on which
occasion Walter, the Lord High Steward of Scotland, who was much
trusted by Bruce, and who commanded the centre wing of the Scotch
army on that memorable occasion, was sent to meet them on the border, and conduct them to Stirling Castle, where the Scottish court
then was. It was then, doubtless, that that mutual attachment was
formed betwixt the hero and heroine of Baston's poem, which, in the
following year, issued in their marriage. They had been married only about nine months, when the birth of a child, under the
melancholy circumstances described, took place. From the consideration of this incident, we may exclaim with Cicero—
" Quae eximia plerisque et prsaclara videntur, parva ducere."
Had Marjory Bruce's horse fallen a little differently from what it
did, the infant in the womb might have been destroyed. We would
then have had no Stewart dynasty; and what the history of our
country would then have been, who can conjecture ?
How eventful! how instructive to princes and to nations, the history of that wide-spreading dynasty, from the time its first seed was
dropped on the banks of the Cart, to the time its main stem was
hewn down on the banks of the Boyne.
P A I S L E Y , 1839.
�THE
DEATH OF MARJORY BRUCE.
SOUTH BRIDGE,
EDINBURGH,
17th N o v . , 1838.
(To the Editor of the Paisley Advertiser.)
SIR,—Having, recently, made a curious literary
discovery, in connexion with your locality, I think
it but fair that it should be put into your hands.
Your readers are, in general, aware, that Edward
the I I . , in that march into Scotland which terminated in the battle of Bannockburn, brought along with
him a poet of the name of Baston, to celebrate in
verse his anticipated victory ; and that this unlucky
bard fell into the hands of the Scots, who punished
him in a very appropriate way, by making him write
a set of verses, in celebration of their victory over
his countrymen. This poem still remains : beginning
thus:—
" De planctu cudo metrum cum carmine nudo,
Risum retrudo, dam tali themate ludo."
W e say all this is well known to most of your
readers ; but few of them, we dare say, know that
this Baston, during his abode in Scotland, had his
domicile in the castle of Renfrew, the then principal
seat of the Lord High Steward of Scotland: that he
was residing there, when the death of his noble hostess took place, by her horse falling upon her as she
�rode from Paisley homewards ; and that he composed a set of Latin verses on that melancholy occasion,
in which he, most likely, describes what he had actually witnessed. Now we have had the good fortune to
find a copy of these verses which had so long- remained concealed, though often sought for by our
antiquaries.
We have made a free translation of
this poem. It is, perhaps, rather too long for your
paper, but, if you choose, you may publish it. You
must have still various floating traditions about the
sad catastrophe to which it relates ; and it may be
curious to compare these with the actual facts, as
related by a competent eye-witness. Some useful
conclusions might perhaps be deduced, on the nature
of evidence from such a comparison.
Yours, truly,
GEORGE
THOMSON.
[The lamentable death of Marjory Bruce, daughter of King
Robert the Bruce, and wife to Walter, the Lord High Steward of Scotland, which happened near to the Castle of Renfrew, on Mid-Summer eve, in the year 1316.]
'Twas even tide, the long bright day
"Was passing like a saint away ;
Still as it faded smiling meeker,
And touched with raptures holier, deeper ;
The sun ne'er built him fairer bowers,
To linger out eve's farewell hours,
The cloud-wove curtains of the sky,
Were never dipped in richer die,
And never did the peaks below
Dissolve amid so bright a glow.
From where the distant mountain's blue,
Emboldening meets the verdant hue
Of old Kilpatrick's woody slope,
To the Mistilaw's lone, western cope,
�The heavens a prophet's vision seems,
Or pageant of the world of dreams.
Full from that sanctuary of light,
With levell'd aim, superbly bright,
A glory o'er the green land pours,
Gilding its spires and banner'd towers.
Clyde like a vine-tinged current flows,
Like gold old Paisley's Abbey glows.
Swift slaunting, as a path-way meet
For some descending angel's feet,
Through its broad window pour'd the ray
Amid the long-ranged pillars grey,
To one wide warm empassion'd smile,
Flushing the cold dim western aisle.
It onward streamed, its mellow fire
A t length slept in the hallowed choir,
But, ere it kissed the sacred ground,
It met and beamed a glory round—
A rich-rob'd, Queen-like one, whose knee,
In midst of that fair sanctuary,
On cloth of gold is meekly bent,
Like some imploring penitent.
Her maidens and her knightly band,
With reverence deep at distance stand,
Nor Queen nor penitent is she,
But the fair Lady Marjory ;
A Bruce in soul as well as name,
Of meek but yet majestic mein.
The noblest knight in all the land,
The princely Stewart won her hand ;
And, soon, in hope's exulting glow
She waits a Mother's joy to know.
The mass is said, the vesper hymn
Floats mellow through the arches dim,
Soft mingling with the organ's swell,
Bidding the day a sweet farewell;
Whilst through the silent, gazing throng
The priestly train slow moves along,
T o seek the cloister's calm retreat,
Or silent cell for musing meet.
Then following came a noble band,
The grace, the beauty of the land,
Fair maidens in life's blooming May,
Like flowers woo'd by the morning ray,
�6
All blushing freshness, yet each face
Was solemn like the saintly place ;
As soft as falling snow they tread,
Each by a youthful warrior led,
Whose iron tramp, with ringing sound,
Startles the tomb-like echoes round.
But like the moon, serenely bright,
Calm gliding 'mid the stars of night,
Amid that glittering company
Slow paced the Lady Marjory.
Her placid brow, uplifted eye,
Spoke of high commerce with the sky,
Whilst the quick flushings of her cheek
Earth's hopes and anxious fears bespeak.
Now, 'twixt the western turret's hoar
They issue through the deep-arched door,
And never did a scene more bland
E'en in earth's richest climes expand
Than that fair one which round them lay
Like eye-enrapturing melody.
E'en like an angel's kiss, the air
Met the warm brow, and sounds were there,
Like angel-whispers, lover's-vows,
Heard 'mid the gently swinging boughs ;
Whilst, in soft harmony below,
Was heard the darkening river's flow,
And oft the mellow piping thrush
Pour'd forth her lay from shady bush,
A flood of music, liquid, clear,
Thrilling the calm air far and near.
Each lady reins her palfrey light,
Quick on his steed has sprung each knight ;
Along the green path, down the stream,
Like dreamers of some bright day-dream,
So, slowly, silently they ride
Onward to Renfrew's halls of pride,
Where, emblem of the Stewart's power,
His banner waves o'er massy tower.
Behind the far hills of Argyle
The sun had set, but still the smile,
Like hectic flush on beauty's cheek,
Of fading light plays round each peak ;
�Sweet as an infant's laughing eye,
Eve's dewy star beam'd down the sky.
Like visions, that in glory J^laze
Before ambition's fervid gaze,
And whilst he grasps them, melt away—
The crimson west had chang'd to grey.
And now they reach the sloping green,
Whence the broad castle's walls are seen
Their dark and massive bulk to heave ;
While, through the mellowing tints of eve,
They seem aerial halls pil'd high,
That mock the gazer's, wildered eye.
But, hark ! clear through the forest borne
Is heard the blast of bugle horn,
And in the garb of Lincoln green,
A weary hunting band is seen :
The note, from her long reverie,
Has roused the lady Marjory.
It is the blast she loves to hear,
That tell's her that her lord is near.
With joy she sees his coming train—
Slacks her impatient palfrey's rein;
That, long close curb'd, now bounds away
Like unleash'd hound upon his prey.
Nor answers now the guiding rein
But with high bound and proud-toss'd mane.
Though plunging on with furious speed,
Long trained to rein a mettled steed,
The graceful rider, firm, erect,
Calm, seeks his headlong course to check.
Forth springs a knight to seize her rein,
But ere his hand her hand could gain,
Still sweeping on with furious speed,
Deep in a mire had plunged her steed.
He falls, rolls o'er, and, woe the day !
His noble rider 'neath him lay.
T o aid, all wildly rush around,
And quickly from their saddles bound.
Her frantic maidens' scream of fear
Has reached the good Lord Steward's ear :
He starts—he sees the hurrying throng,
With arrow speed he spurs along :
�He speeds—but faster still life's tide
Is ebbing in his youthful bride !
But when his tones pf love she hears,
And meets his eye all drowned in tears,
And feels his thrilling warm embrace,
A flush plays o'er her livid face,
Like flowers that o'er a lone grave blow,
Or sunbeam on a wreath of snow.
A s waking from a troubled dream,
Her dark soft eye's dilated beam
Meets his mute gaze, and, bright'ning; still,
Like morning o'er the eastern hill,
I t pours, at length, so strange a light,
So bland, yet so intensely bright,
Her soul seemed to a seraph turned,
And with a seraph's rapture burned,
Pours like the glowing spirits above,
The tongueless eloquence of love.
And voiceless too, like spell-bound band,
All motionless her maidens stand.
They heave no sigh, they shed no tear,
D e e p awe has mastered grief and fear ;
Almost arrested, pulse and breath
And given each cheek the hue of death.
The spell is broke—they hear a moan—
And lo ! those eyes they gazed upon
A r e soulless ! pall'd in death's black night,
Is she who was the centre bright
That held a nation's gaze,—the one
"Who, like the summer's morning sun,
W o k e harmony, and joy, and love,
Where'er her graceful steps might move.
But life and death, strange mingle : lo !
A joy blends with the bitter woe.
A cherub smiles, an heir is born;
A s from eve's shades had sprung the morn.
T o Scotland, thus, by pitying Heaven,
A future hero may be given.
Sum Carmelita, B A S T O N cognomine dictus
Qui doleo vita in tali strage relictus.
�
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Title
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The Death of Marjory Bruce, Daughter of King Robert the Bruce, And Wife to Walter, The Lord High Steward of Scotland, Which happened near to the Castle of Renfrew, on Mid-Summer eve, in the year 1316. A Poem
Date
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1839
Identifier
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<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133953505154">s0141b34</a>
Is Part Of
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Chapbook #52 in a bound collection of 54 chapbooks
Extent
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8 pages
Is Referenced By
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<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland</a>
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Paisley: J. Neilson
Subject
The topic of the resource
Courtship and Marriage
Robert I, King of Scots, 1274-1329
Poetry
Chapbooks - Scotland - Paisley
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1831-1840
Chapbook Genre: poetry
Chapbook Genre: romance
Chapbook Publisher - Paisley: J. Neilson
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PDF Text
Text
THE
HOLLANDER $
SAB'S DOOR,
THE INSULTED
PEDLAR,
LANG MILLS DETECTED,
/ C
^ t e ^ ' y ^ g * ^
Yes, while I live, no rich or sordid knave
Shall walk the world in credit to his grave.
POPE,
PAISLEY:
published
by n, smith $ m.
1B32.
�7X5 n?
�THE
S H A R K,
YE Weaver blades ! ye noble chiels!
Wha fill our lann wi* plenty,
And mak our vera barest fiel's
To wave wi' ilka dainty,
Defend yoursels ! Tak sicker heed !
I warn you as a brither,
Or SHARK'S resolved, wi' hellish greed,
To gorge us a' thegither,
At ance this day.
In gude's-name will we ne'er get free
O' thieves and persecution !
Will Satan never let a be
To plot our dissolution !
Ae scoun'rel sinks us to the pit,
Wi' his eternal curses,
Anither granes,—and prays,—-and .yet
Contrives to toom our purses,
Maist every day.
�4
A higher aim gars WILLY think,
And deeper schemes he's brewin j
Ten thousan' fouk at ance to sink
To poverty and ruin !
Hail mighty Patriot! Noble Soul!
Sae generous, and sae civil,
Sic vast designs deserve the whole
Applauses of the devil,
On ony day.
In vain we've toil'd wi' head and heart,
And constant deep inspection,
For years on years, to bring this Art
So nearly to perfection ;
The mair that Art and Skill deserve,
The greedier WILL advances,
And Saws and Barrels only serve
To heighten our expences
And wrath this day,
But know, to thy immortal shame,
While stands a Paper-Spot
So long, great Squeeze the Poor ! thy fame*
Thy blasted fame shall rot,
And as a brick, or limestane kill
Wi* sooty reek advances,
So grateful shall thy mem'ry still
Be to our bitter senses,
By night or day.
T
I
\
�5
Lang, WILLY SHARK wi' greedy snout
Had sneak'd about the C—n—1,
To eat his beef, and booze about, ^
Nor prov'd at drinking punGh ill,
Till, Judas-like, he got the bag,
And squeez'd it to a Jelly,
Thae war the days for WILL to brag.,
And blest times for the belly
Ilk ither day.
The mail* we get by heule and cruk
e af'en grow the greedier,
SHARK raiket now through every neuk
To harl till him speedier ;
His ghastly conscience, pale and spent,
Was summon'd up, right clever,
Syne, wi' an execration, sent
Aff, henceforth and for ever,
Frae him that day.
This done, Trade snoovt awa wi* skill
And wonderfu' extention,
And widen't soon WHS every Mill,
(A dexterous invention !)
Groat after groat, was clippet aff,
Frae ae thing an' ani'tber,
Till fouk began to think on draff,
To help to baud thegither
Their banes that day.
i
�6
Now, round frae Cork to Cork he trots
Wi' eagerness and rigour,
And Rump the Petticoats and Spots !"
His Sharkship roar'd wi' vigour ;
But, whan his Harnishes cam in
In dizens in a morning,
And a' grew desolate aud grim,
His rapture chang'd to mourning
And rage that day.
Thus Haman, in the days of yore,
Pufft up wi' spitefu' evil,
Amang his blackgaurd, wicked core
Centriv'd to play the devil;
High stood the Gibbet's dismal cape,
But little thought the sinner
That he had caft the vera rape
Wad rax his neck, e're dinner
Was ower that day.
Wha cou'd believe a Chiel «ae trig
Wad cheat us o' a bodle ?
Or that sae fair a gowden wig
Contain'd sae black a noddle?
But S H A R K beneath a sleekit smile
Conceals his fiercest ginning,
And, like his neighbours of the Nile,*
Devours wi' little warning
By night or day.
* A well-known river much infested by Crocodi!
�7
O huppy is that man and blest
Wha in the C—n—1 gets him !
Soon may he cram his greedy kist
And dare a soul to touch him,
But should some poor aul wife, by force
O' POortith, scrimp her measure,
Her cursed Reels at P — y Corse,
Wad bleeze wi* meikle pleasure
To them that day.
Whiles, in my sleep, methinks I see
Thee marching through the City,
And Hangman Jock, wi' girnan glee,
Proceeding to his duty.
I see thy dismal phiz, and back,
While Jock, his stroke to strengthen,
Brings down his brows at every swack,
"I'll learn you frien' to lengthen
Your Mills the day."
Poor Wretch ! in sic a dreadfu' hour
O' blude and dirt and hurry,
What wad thy saftest luks or sour
Avail to stap their fury ?
"Lang Mills," wad rise around thy lugs
In mony a horrid volley,
And thou be kicket to the dugs,
To think upo' thy foily
Ilk after day.
>
�Ye Senators ! whase wisdom deep
Keeps a' our matters even,
If sic a wretch ye dare to keep
How can ye hope for heaven ?
Kick out the scoun'erel to his shift,
We'll pay him for his sporting,
And sen' his Mills and him adrift
At ance to try their fortune
Down Cart this day.
Think, thou unconscionable SHARK !
For heaven's sake bethink thee !
To what a depth of horrors dark
Sic wark will surely sink thee—
Repent of sic enormous sins,
And drap thy curst intention,
Or faith I fear, wi' birslt shins,
Thou'l mind this reprehension
Some future day.
�THE
AMERICAN BLUE-BIRD.
When Winter's cold tempests and snows
are no more,
Green meadows, and brown furrowed
fields re-appearing,
The fisherman haling their shade to the shore
And cloud.cleaving geese to the lakes are
a-steering
When first the lone butterfly flits on the
wing,
When red glow the maples, so fresh and
so pleasing,
O then comes the Blue-bird, the herald of
Spring,
And hails with his warblings the charms
of the season.
Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to
ring;
Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine
is the weather;
�The blue woodland flowers just beginning
to spring,
And spicewood and sasafras budding together
O then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair ;
Your walks border up; sow and plant at
your leisure;
The Blue-bird will chant from his box such
an air,
That all your hard toils will seem truly
a pleasure.
He flits thro' the orchard, he visits each tree
The red flowering peach, and the apple's
sweet blossoms;
He snaps up destroyers wherever they be,
And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their
bosoms;
He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours,
The worms from their webs where they
riot and welter.
His song and his services freely are ours,
And all that he asks, is, in summer, a
shelter.
is pleas'd when he gleams
�11
Now searching the furrows—now mounting to chear him,
The gard'ner delights in his sweet simple
strain,
And leans on his spade to survey and to
hear him,
The slow ling'ring schoolboys forget they'll
be chid,
While gazing intent as he warbles before
'em,
In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red,
That each little loiterer seems to adore him
When all the gay scenes of the summer are
o'er,
And Autumn slow enters so silent and
sallow,
And millions of warblers, that charm'd ua
before,
Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking
swallow;
The Blue-bird forsaken, yet true to his home
Still lingers, and looks for a milder tomorrow,
Till, forc'd by the horrors of winter to roam
He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow.
While Spring's lovely season, serene, dewy,
warm,
�12
The green face of earth, and the pure
blue of Heaven,
Or Love's native music have influence to
charm,
Or Sympathy's glow to our feelings are '
given,
Still dear to each bosom the Blue-bird shall
be.
His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a
treasure;
For, thro* bleakest storms, if a calm he but
see.
He comes to remind us of sunshine and
pleasure.
C A L D W E L L , PRINTER.
�
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3cc355f84c7cb11797494a7720df721b.jpg
2b84de9a961ef9cc65d6fb2dd14adde4
Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Hollander; Hab's Door, The Insulted Pedlar, Lang Mills Detected.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1832
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133953505154">s0141b34</a>
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Wilson, Alexander, 1766-1813
Description
An account of the resource
Quote at bottom of title-page: "Yes, while I live, no rich or sordid knave Shall walk the world in credit to his grave. Pope."
"By Alex Wilson" in pen on title-page.
Alternative Title
An alternative name for the resource. The distinction between titles and alternative titles is application-specific.
The Hollander
Hab's door
The insulted pedlar
Lang Mills detected
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #51 in a bound collection of 54 chapbooks
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
12 pages
Coverage
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Cork, Ireland
Contributor
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Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
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In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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Paisley: R. Smith & Co.
Subject
The topic of the resource
Chapbooks - Scotland - Paisley
Poetry
Source
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Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1831-1840
Chapbook Genre: poetry
Chapbook Publisher - Paisley: R. Smith & Co.
-
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/ccbba3af2f02400ff9c8ef7483f8e234.pdf
0b1b894f659b6b2562027947ebd19b22
PDF Text
Text
M
A
R
A
O
R
I
P
O
Y
N
G
E
,
I
M
N
A
.
R E C O M M E N D E D
TO T H E A T T E N T I O N
L
A
D
I
E
S
OF T H E
.
" Sweet lovely maid, accept thefe lays,
" Thy merit only gave them birth,
" Yho' poor the fwain that fwgs thy fraije,
" Ne'er Jung he, but in praife of -worth*
L
�7
I t
is prefumed t h a t t h e following P o e m
will not be deemed undeferving of attention,
as it is defcriptive of a chara&er worthy of
imitation*
M
A
R
T
.
i.
T O V E L Y power, that o'er the heart,
With gentle defpotifm reigns,
And, with manners void of art,
Leads mankind in willing chains:
II.
Lovely power, of fweetefl joys,
The courteous fmile, the eye benign,
The accent foft, th' affenting voice,
Th' attentive, affable de%n:
�(
3
)
III.
Gentle power, poffefs my breaft,
And, images of foftnefc raife,
And, banifh thence each thought unbleft,
While I ling in Mary's praife.
IV.
I feek not beauty's power to trace,
Tho' of beauty fhe has flore :
Small's beauty's power, and foon its grace,
Will lofe its charm to chafm no more.
V.
Nor praife I yet her wealth, or birth,
Poor the triumphs they beftow,
She prides not things fo void of worth,
Nor ftoops my inufe to praife fo low,
VI.
Nor yet the witty things fhe fays
Seek I on the lyre to found,
Wit is a momentary blaze,
A fpark that dazzles but to wound.
VII.
Let wit, ne'er touch thy firings, my lyre,
A fatal fpark, however its fame,
And O! it kindles many a fire,
Where withers many a lovely name.
VIII.
Thy firings, my lyre, ne'er found its praife,
Wit many a blufning pang hath given,
Drawn many a fon from virtue's ways,
And many a daughter fit for heaven.
�C 4
>
IX.
Let wit, my lyre, ne'er touch thy firings,
'Mid many a wild, and many a thorrt^
Its wandering votaries it brings,
And leaves a phantom in return.
X.
I praife thee, Mary, not for wit;
Good humour'd fenfe is better far,
And that thou haft with manners fit^
Manners mild as morning-ftar.
XI.
It is becaufe thou'rt virtue's child.
Virtue in her fofteft drefs,
Virtue, lovely, fweet and mild,
Virtue, feeking how to blefs*
XII.
The foft addrefs, the fmiling eyes,
The manners gentle and benign,
In thefe, a woman's glory lies,
And thefe, fweet Mary, all are thine.
XIII.
Stealing upon the heart they feize,
With windings foft, yet clofely wove,
When lovely woman {loops to pleafe
The hardeft heart mull bend to love.
XIV.
O! why then lovely females, wander
From where your pride and glory lies^
Why leave the gentle, foft meander,
For boift'rous feas, and ftormy fkies.
�(
5
)
XXI.
Cold difdain and looks of ftate,
Laughter boifTrous, noify wit,
Proud negledt, or loud debate,
Ah! lovely woman ill befit.
XVI.
Sweet courtefy, and winning fmlles,
Manners foft, and void of art—
Thefe, are Love's engaging wiles,
Thefe are they which win the heart.
XVII.
But rougher talks, O! furely never,
For fweet woman were ordain'd.
You lofe by driving to be clever,
What your native charms had gain'cL
XVIII.
Nature made ye gentle creatures,
Take the way where nature leads,
Maidens, view your lovely features,
And feek the vales and fiow'iy meads*
XIX.
Sweetly, flows the foft meander,
On its banks grow every flower,
There, the loves and graces wander,
There, arifes Venus' bower.
XX.
And there, fweet Mary, thou doft {tray,
No mafc'line airs doft thou affume,
Sweet Mary bends her graceful way
Where violets and lilies bloom.
�(
6
)
XXI.
No cold difdain or haughty mien,
On Mary's brow yet ever fate,
Nor proud negled, in her was feen
To children of a lowly fate.
XXII.
For, well fhe argued, birth and power,
And riches, ne'er for pride were given;
The {hining pageants of an hour,
Talents lent by favouring heaven.
XXIII.
Nor e'er the wit did Mary try,
Which flains the model! cheek with fhame,;
Far lefs what with a varnifh'd lie
Difcolours all a fpotiefs name.
XXIV.
Ah! no, for a much nobler end,
Her wit the lovely Mary us'd;
To cheer the humble, or defend
The fame of innocence abus'd.
XXV.
Qft, have I fat, and, with an eye*
Of filent pieafure, on her gaz'd,
While the bent flower of modeft dye,
All drooping, fhe has gently rais'd.
XXVI.
How oft delighted have I fat,
And view'd the charmer's gentle fchefnes,
To lead the humble to forget
And. flill his fears in pleafing dreams*
�( 7 )
XXVII.
How oft delighted have I feen
Her fondly take the fallen's part,
With quickeft thought, and nobleft mien,
And yet with fuch a gentle art—
XXVIII.
A manner, fearful to ofFend,
Yielding, yet firm, to virtue's right,
She argued only to befriend,
Delighting, only to delight.
XXIX.
0 lovely maid! oft have I turn'd,
Prom brows of haughty fcorn to thee,
When infults in my bofom burn'd,
For haughty looks have wounded jne.
XXX.
And infults haughty looks I deem,
And cold replies, or proud negle&,
More galling far, becaufe they feem
Convey'd with manners of r e f p e d - ^
XXXI.
1 turn'd, and found a gentle balm,
That 'jfwag'd the tumults of my bread,
Thy fweet replies, bade all be calm.
Thy fmiles, reftor'd my foul to reft.
XXXII.
Then, lovely maid, accept thefe lays,
Thy merit, only, gave them bjjrth,
Tho' poor the fwain that fings thy praife,
Ne'j^r fung he, but in praife of worth.
�(
3
)
xxxnr.
Nor ftoop'd he e'er to fawn the great,
Or praife what fell from folly's tongue,
He faw no charms in pomp or ftate,
And what he faw not, ne'^r he fung*
XXXIV;
Tho' poor the fwain that fings thy praife,
He fcorns to bow at flatt'ry's fhrine,
Put on this crown of humble bays,
For not a wreath is there but thine.
XXXV.
And find you in this crown of bays,
A flow'r lil-chofen, or ill-weav'd,
Blame not a youth who feeks no praife,
Nor wiflies but to be believ'd.
XXXVI.
Too proud to fawn, to hope too low,
He never fann'd love's gentle fire,
Sweet worth to praife, and praifing (how.
Was all his fwelling heart's defire.
�
https://scottishchapbooks.lib.uoguelph.ca/files/original/3347e7fc579523b319c51dd0098a0638.jpg
40e3513efb20102faf9bb7b31b246e0b
Document
A resource containing textual data. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre text.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Mary, an Original Poem. Recommended to the attention of the Ladies.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
<a href="https://ocul-gue.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01OCUL_GUE/mrqn4e/alma9953133953505154">s0141b34</a>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1795?] per ESTC
Extent
The size or duration of the resource.
8 pages
Description
An account of the resource
Quote at bottom of title-page.: "Sweet lovely maid, accept these lays, Thy merit only gave them birth, Tho' poor the swain that sings thy praise, "Ne'er sung he, but in praise of worth."
2 copies
Is Referenced By
A related resource that references, cites, or otherwise points to the described resource.
ESTC T91534 (BL)
<a title="National Library of Scotland" href="http://www.nls.uk/">National Library of Scotland </a>
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Chapbook #50 in a bound collection of 54 chapbooks
Subject
The topic of the resource
Poetry
Religion and Morals
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Archival and Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario, Canada
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
In the public domain; For high quality reproductions, contact Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph. libaspc@uoguelph.ca, 519-824-4120, Ext. 53413
Format
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JPEGs and PDF derived from master file, which was scanned from the original book in 24-bit color at 600 dpi in TIFF format using an Epson Expression 10000XL scanner.
Publisher
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[Glasgow?: Brash & Reid?]
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Archival & Special Collections, University of Guelph Library, Guelph, Ontario
# of Woodcuts: 0
Chapbook Date: 1791-1800
Chapbook Genre: poetry
Chapbook Genre: religion & morals
Chapbook Publisher - Glasgow: Brash & Reid