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Full text of "Jacobite minstrelsy; with notes illustrative of the text, and containing historical details in relation to the House of Stuart, from 1640 to 1784"

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€&e H?mt*e of §ttwvt, 

FfiOM 1640 to 1784. 

<£Ia$gofo : 


(j^MAr'^r v 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2011 with funding from 

National Library of Scotland 


Presented by Lady Dorothea Ruggles- 
Brise to the National Library of Scotland, 
in memory of her brother, Major Lord 
George Stewart Murray, Black Watch, 
killed in action in France in 1914. 
28th January 1927. 

'What Uwe. 

quo ' //i'- iiiiJr 
the sun sae 

MHuUc rises m 

■Jit, the Grd c mu lew; quo 1 (he uru/i.i 

'It's mu tun bonrw home o' Airh/.' 

Published, bv R. Griffin k C° Glasgow. 1828. 


3 f JXL J -> 

'" WAES OF SCO'Vl..^>" 

Published by R. Griffin fc C° 


.'nalvu hv R KaiftVm*. 









FROM 1610 TO 1784. 






In Scotland, of late years, a very laudable 
anxiety has been shown to collect and preserve 
every relic of past times, connected in any 
shape with the literary or political history of 
the country. Much skill, industry, and per- 
severance have been displayed in pursuit of this 
object; and in several departments the efforts 
of individuals have been eminently useful. In 
no instance, however, do these appear to have 
been exerted to better purpose, or with greater 
success, than in collecting the ballads, songs, 
and legends of the Jacobites, — the productions 
of those nameless bards who so long sung the 
Stuarts and their cause, and who were wont, 
with irresistible effect, to rouse and inflame 
the partizans of that family. So keen, indeed, 
has been the zeal or the patriotism of those 
who undertook the task of gathering together the 
widely scattered remains of the Jacobite muse, 
that they may almost be said to have done her 
more than justice. All sorts of collections 
have been anxiously sought after and procured ; 
manuscripts innumerable have been examined 
and collated ; every stray verse or fragment 


has been treasured with enthusiasm ; and hardly 
any thing worth perpetuating appears to have 
escaped their indefatigable search. These, 
again, have been embodied in various laborious 
publications ; and, at length, we have only to 
turn to the volumes of the collectors, particu- 
larly those of Ritson, Cromek, Cunningham, 
and the Ettrick Shepherd, in order to find that 
the Minstrelsy of the Jacobite times forms one 
of the most valuable and interesting portions 
of our national song. 

Most of the productions which have been 
thus carefully collected, enjoyed at one time a 
very extensive popularity ; but it is a peculiar 
feature in their character, that the interest which 
they were originally written to inspire, is little 
diminished, either by change of circumstances 
or the lapse of time. They are still read with 
enthusiasm by all ranks in Scotland, and ad- 
mired as the very best compositions we possess 
of the lyrical kind. Several causes concur to 
produce this general partiality in their favour ; 
but none, perhaps, more strongly conduces to it 
than the decided excellence of the pieces them- 
selves. The efforts of the Jacobite muse seem, 
in almost every instance, to have been faithful 
transcripts of the feelings of their authors — the 
results of genuine passion working on heated 
imaginations, or the overflowing bitterness of 
exasperated, indignant, and disappointed minds. 
They were always the bursts, too, of temporary 
and spontaneous excitement. Hence, whether 
they pourtray the animated details of a battle, 
satirize the character of a state measure, ridicule 
the personal qualities of an enemy, or bewail 
the calamities of a friend, it is done with a 


truth, energy, and feeling, that at once imparts 
kindred emotions to the breast of the reader, 
and leaves an impression on his mind that 
nothing can efface. Perhaps, therefore, it is 
not too much to assert of them, that as effusions 
of real passion, they are unrivalled by any 
similar compositions, either ancient or modern. 
Nothing can exceed the force and variety of 
their humour, the keenness of their wit, the 
vigour of their invective, the buoyancy of their 
hope, and not unfrequently the pathos of their 

Though much of the pleasure which is felt 
in Jacobite song may thus be ascribed to the 
force of its own peculiar charms, it cannot be 
denied that a large share of the interest which 
belongs to it is owing to the cause which it 
sung, and the events and recollections with 
which it is associated. On this account the 
greater portion of the pieces hitherto publish- 
ed, possess a value in the eyes of most Scots- 
men, altogether independent of their poetical 
characteristics. Not that the principles of the 
Jacobites, or the objects for which they con- 
tended, are now held in particular veneration, 
for these, it is well known, warred alike against 
common sense and the natural liberty of man- 
kind ; * but that there is felt in almost every 

* The extravagant nature of Jacobite principles maybe best ascer- 
tained by contrasting them with those of the Whigs and Tories, as 
they have been defined by Mr Hume the historian. " A Tory," says 
he, in one of his essays, " may be defined in a few words:— to be a 
lover of monarchy, though without abandoning liberty, and a parti- 
xan of the family of Stuart ; as a Whig may be defined to be a lover 
of liberty, though without renouncing monarchy, and a friend to the 
settlement in the British line. A Jacobite seems to be a Tory who 
has no regard to the constitution, but is either a zealous partizan of 


breast a warm and irresistible admiration of 
the devoted constancy and heroic valour dis- 
played by the partizans of the House of Stuart, 
and a melancholy sympathy for the misfortunes 
that pursued them. In spite of the equivocal 
motives which are known to have actuated 
many of those who took the lead in that luckless 
cause, we still admire the integrity of purpose 
as well as pathetic heroism displayed by the 
great body of its followers. We forget their 
mistaken views, their pernicious enthusiasm ; 
and only think of their romantic courage, their 
persevering fidelity, and their unshaken forti- 
tude, through all the vicissitudes that marked 
their attempts to recover what they, at least, 
thought their own and their monarch's right. 
But it is chiefly in contemplating the reverses of 
the Jacobites, and especially the grand catastro- 
phe that followed their short lived triumphs in 
1745, that we find our sympathies most power- 
fully awakened in their behalf. However much 
they may have erred both in politics and religion, 
we cannot but remember with pity the dreadful 
penalty which was paid for their attachment 
to them ; their powerful and warlike bands 
broken up and dispersed, the frightful military 
execution by fire and sword inflicted on their 
country, their wives and children exposed to 

absolute moHarchy, or at least willing to sacrifice our liberties to the 
obtaining the succession in that family to which he is attached." 
During the whole of the period to which the Minstrelsy of this vo- 
lume refers, the people of England were divided into Whigs, Tories, 
and Jacobites ; though the two last were closely allied to each other . 
But in Scotland, there were only two parties. All the Presbyterians, 
the great body of the people, were Whigs ; and as the Episcopalians 
had no worldly motive for dissembling their sentiments, having been 
dispossessed at the Revolution, they were all nonjurors, and open 
and avowed Jacobites. 


the horrors of famine, and they themselves, 
when they escaped the axe of the executioner, 
driven into hopeless exile. Remembering 
those accumulated ills, all their faults, and all 
the vices of their cause, are lost in commiser- 
ation of their fate; and to this feeling of 
compassion for the wretched, must we ascribe 
that general prepossession which still exists for 
every thing connected with the Jacobite cause 
and Jacobite times. Hence, also, the univer- 
sally popular character of Jacobite Song. 

Independent, however, of the hold which 
these relics of the past thus have on the sym- 
pathies and affections of Scotsmen ; and, be- 
sides the charm which they possess as spirit- 
ed, graphic, and touching specimens of the 
muse, their practical use in illustrating many 
events of the period to which they refer, stamps 
them with an additional value, and renders them 
of no little estimation in the eye of the histo- 
rical reader. In fact, when arranged consecu- 
tively, and with attention to chronological order, 
these songs and fragments form a delightful 
commentary on the memoirs of the time, and 
may almost be said to constitute an epitome 
of Jacobite history. Subservient in some 
degree to this end, and with a view to make 
them as useful as agreeable, have the pieces in 
the present collection been selected and ar- 
ranged, and, on reference to their titles, it 
will be found that, taken in connection with 
the notes, they present such a series of political 
and personal details as may well serve the 
purpose of more legitimate memoirs. 

In this point of view, the Jacobite Min- 
strelsy is chiefly of importance from the date 

viii PREFACE. 

of the abdication of James the Second; for 
although there were numerous party songs in 
relation to the Stuarts at a much earlier 
period, few or none can be considered ex- 
clusively Jacobite, till that family was shut 
out from the succession to the throne. The 
Revolution of 1668 is the grand era of Jacobite 
Song. Accordingly, as the first event in the 
series, it forms the subject of satire in several 
pieces, but particularly in Cakes o' Crowdy. The 
next event was the attempt of Viscount Dun- 
dee to restore James, at the head of little more 
than three thousand Highlanders, when, though 
victorious over a larger Government force, 
under General Mackay, he was killed in 
battle. This is commemorated in Killie- 
cranky. The character of King William is at 
the same time severely handled in some other 
contemporary productions ; but particularly in 
Willie Winkie's Testament. The famous Act 
of Succession, in 1703, follows in order, and 
it is immortalized in the ballad of the same 
name. Some of the characters who moved it 
in Parliament are noticed in the notes. The 
more important measure of the Union succeeded 
to this Act, and a valuable commentary, sati- 
rical of the Whigs who were instrumental in 
passing it, is to be found in The Awkward 
Squad. Queen Anne's Ministers, and their 
measures, are also ridiculed at the same 
period in The Auld Gray Mare, The Riding 
Mare, and The Union. The accession of 
George the First, with his character, in The 
Wee, Wee German Lairdie, and The Sow's 
Tail to Geordie, complete the train of events 


till the celebrated insurrection under the Earl 
of Marr, in 1715. 

Marr's attempt is memorable for its melan- 
choly consequences, and these necessarily ex- 
cited the tender and sympathetic strains of the 
Jacobite songsters. The pieces of that period, 
therefore, will be found particularly inte- 
resting. Though The Battle of Sheriff-Muir, 
and a few others, be ludicrous, the greater 
number are plaintive and touching in a very 
eminent degree; especially such as relate to 
the march into England, and the subsequent 
surrender of the rebels. The characters of the 
principal leaders in this insurrection are de- 
scribed in the notes. The executions of the 
Lords Kenmure and Derwentwater, with the 
escape of Lord Nithsdale, are also copiously 

The intermediate period betwixt Marr's in- 
surrection, and the more important one of 
1745, is occupied with various humorous and 
characteristic satires, seme of them peculiarly 
caustic, in ridicule of the courts and characters 
both of George I. and George II. 

But it is in relation to the events of 1745 and 
1746 that the Jacobite songs must be deemed of 
the greatest and most permanent interest. This 
last attempt of the Stuarts is, if possible, still 
better illustrated by those pieces than any of 
the events that preceded it. Indeed, there is 
hardly an incident of any importance in Prince 
Charles' expedition that has not been comme- 
morated by the muse. To show this the more 
distinctly, it only requires to put the succes- 
sive events in juxta-position with their corre- 
sponding songs in the present collection, 


Among the former may be stated — 1st, The 
Prince's arrival in Scotland ; 2d, His meeting 
with Lochiel ; 3d, The Battle of Prestonpans ; 
4th, The March into England and subsequent 
Retreat ; 5th, The Battle of Falkirk ; 6th, The 
Defeat at Culloden ; 7th, Escape of Charles 
and dispersion of the Highlanders ; 8th, Cru- 
elties and character of the Duke of Cumber- 
land ; 9th, Trials and Executions in England ; 
10th, Expatriation of the survivors; 11th, 
Fate of the Prince; 12th, Return of the 
Exiles. These are the principal acts in the 
political drama of 1745, and, though forming 
the subject of numerous pieces in the collection, 
they are more particularly illustrated by those 
which thus follow in similar order of enumera- 
tion : — Welcome Charlie o'er the Main, LochieVs 
Warning, Johnnie Cope, Mayor of Carlisle, Bat- 
tle of Falkirk Muir, Culloden Day, LochieVs 
Farewell, and Waes me for Prince Charlie, The 
Tears of Scotland, and Cumberland and Mur- 
ray's descent into Hell, Ode on Prince Charles's 
Birth-Day, The Exile to his Country, When 
Royal Charles by Heaven's command, Restoration 
of Forfeited Estates in 1784. 

In these more prominent pieces the events 
are regularly commemorated as they successively 
arose, and though truth, satire, and romance 
are necessarily intermingled, they constitute, 
nevertheless, a speaking and accurate picture 
of the times. In fact, so minute, lively, and 
interesting are the details, so graphically are 
the incidents and characters pourtrayed, that 
this series may be said to exhibit in its princi- 
pal features, if not the art and contrivance, at 



least, all the charm that belongs to some of the 
finest Epic Poems. 

In selecting the materials which compose 
the historical illustrations of this volume, it 
was found difficult to avoid the contagion of 
party spirit ; few of the authorities, which it 
was necessary to considt, being exempt from a 
strong political bias towards either the one side 
or the other. Yet, upon the whole, it will 
perhaps be admitted, that no undue partiality 
is displayed. The account given of Prinoe 
Charles will doubtless be taken as a test in this 
respect, and by that test the publishers are wil- 
ling that the integrity of their work should be 
tried. The facts in the memorable expedition 
of 1745, have been taken indiscriminately from 
the friends and foes of the Stuarts ; but it has 
not been thought necessary to adopt, at ran- 
dom, all that has been written against the dis- 
position and character of the Prince. Without 
meaning to be partial, it was deemed in better 
taste, to be indulgent to the memory of the 
unfortunate. Rash, impatient, and indis- 
creet, he undoubtedly was, but it is impossible 
to believe that he showed neither courage nor 
skill in his own person, or to imagine him so 
divested of great qualities, as his enemies assert. 
His expedition was wild and hazardous in the 
extreme ; but, to have undertaken and all but 
succeeded in it, betokened no ordinary powers of 
the mind. As justly remarked by the author of 
WaVerley, without courage he had never made 
the attempt, without address and military talent 
he had never kept together his own desultory 
bands, or discomfited the more experienced 
soldiers of his enemy; and finally, without 


patience, resolution, and fortitude, he could never 
have supported his cause so long under succes- 
sive disappointments, or fallen at last with 
honour, hy an accumulated and overwhelming 




As some of the allusions to the royal characters occasion, 
ally noticed in this volume would be obscure without 
explanation of their connection with the Stuart family, 
the following genealogical introduction will be found 
useful for the sake of reference :— 

James, Sixth of Scotland, and First of England, was the 
common progenitor of the two families, whose contentions 
for the throne of Great Britain gave birth to what is called 
" Jacobite Song." He was succeeded, in 1625, by his son, 

Charles I, after a contentious reign of twenty-three 
years, perished on the scaffold in 1649. 

Charles II., eldest son of Charles I., lived in exile for 
eleven years after the death of his father ; but was restored 
to the throne, May 1660; an event which is commonly 
called, " The Restoration." Charles died, without legiti- 
mate issue, in 1685, and was succeeded by his brother, 
James, who had previously borne the title of the Duke 
of York. 

James II. was fifty-three years of age when he mounted 
the throne. In his youth he had, as Admiral of England, 
shown a talent for business, and great skill in naval affairs ; 
but his character was now marked by symptoms of prema- 
ture dotage. A devoted and bigoted Catholic, he attempted 
to establish as a maxim, that he could do whatever he 
pleased by a proclamation of his own , without the consent 
of Parliament. His obstinacy and infatuation in this pur- 
pose, rendered it necessary for all parties of the State to 
seek his deposition. By a coalition of Whigs and Tories, 
it was resolved to call in the assistance of William, Prince 
of Orange, his nephew and William accord- 
ingly landed upon the Southern coast of England, with an 
army of sixteen thousand men, partly his own native sub- 


jects, and partly English refugees, November 5, 1688. As 
he proceeded to London, James was deserted by his army, 
by his friends, and even by his own children ; and in a 
confusion of mind, the result of fear and offended feelings, 
he retired to France. A Convention Parliament then 
declared that James had abdicated, and resolved to offer 
the crown to William and his consort Mary. This event 
is usually termed " The Revolution of 1688." 

William III., son of Mary, eldest daughter of Charles 
I., and who had married his cousin Mary, eldest daughter 
of James II., thus assumed the crown, "in company with 
his consort; while King James remained in exile in 
France. Mary died in 1695, and King William then be- 
came sole monarch. In consequence of a fall from his 
horse, he died in 1701, leaving no issue. 

Anne, second daughter of King James II., was then 
placed upon the throne. James, meanwhile, died in 
France, leaving a son, James, born in England, June 10, 
1688, the heir of his unhappy fortunes. This personage, 
known in history by the epithet of the Pretender, and 
more popularly by his incognito title, the Chevalier de St. 
George, continued an exile in France, supported by his 
cousin, Louis XIV., and by the subsidies of his English 
adherents. Anne, after a reign of thirteen years, distin- 
guished by excessive military and literary glory, died 
without issue, August 1, 1714. During the life of this 
sovereign, the crown had been destined, by Act of Parlia- 
ment, to the nearest Protestant heir, Sophia, Electress 
of Hanover, daughter of Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, 
the daughter of King James VI. Sophia having prede- 
ceased Queen Anne, it descended of course to her son, 
George, Elector of Hanover, who accordingly came over 
to England and assumed the sovereignty, to the exclusion 
of his cousin, the Chevalier. 

George I. was scarcely seated on the throne, when an 
insurrection was raised against him by the friends of his 
rival. It was suppressed, however; and he continued to 
reign, almost without further disturbance, till his death 
in 1727. 

George 1 1, succeeded to the crown on the death of his fa- 
ther. Meanwhile, the Chevalier de St. George had married 
Clementina, grand-daughter of John Sobieski, the heroic 
King of Poland, by whom he had a son, Charles Edward 
Lewis Cassimir, born December 31, 1720, the hero of the 
civil war of 1745, and another son, Henry Benedict, born 
1725, afterwards well known by the name of Cardinal de 
York. James was himself a man of weak character ; but 
the courage and enterprise of Sobieski was conspicuous for 
a season at least, in his eldest son, whose romantic intre- 
pidity, displayed in 1745-6. did everything but retrieve the 
fortunes of his family. 



It was in old times, when trees compos'd . 

And flowers did with elegy flow ; 
It was in a field, that various did yield, 

A Rose and a Thistle did grow. 

On a sun-shiny day, the Rose chanc'd to say, 
" Friend Thistle, I'll be with you plain ; 

And if you would be but united to me, 
You would ne'er be a Thistle again." 

Says the Thistle, "My spears shield mortals 
from fears, 

Whilst thou dost unguarded remain ; 
And I do suppose, though I were a Rose, 

I'd wish to turn Thistle again." 

" O my friend," says the Rose, " you falsely 
Bear witness, ye flowers of the plain ! 
You would take so much pleasure in beauty's 
vast treasure, 
You would ne'er be a Thistle again." 



The Thistle at length, preferring the Rose 
To all the gay flowers of the plain, 

Throws off all her points, herself she anoints, 
And now are united the twain. 

But one cold stormy day, while helpless she 
Nor longer could sorrow refrain, [lay, 

She fetch'd a deep groan, with many Ohon ! 
" O were I a Thistle again ! 


Carle, an' the king come, 

Carle, an' the king come, 

Thou shalt dance, and I will sing, 

Carle, an' the king come. 
An' somebody were come again, 
Then somebody maun cross the main, 
And ev'ry man shall ha'e his ain, 

Carle, an' the king come. 

I trow we swapped for the worse, 
We ga'e the boot and better horse, 
And that we'll tell them at the cross, 

Carle, an' the king come. 
When yellow corn grows on the rigs, 
And a gibbet's built to hang the Whigs, 
O then we will dance Scottish jigs, 

Carle an' the king come. 

* This is one of the very earliest in the series of what are usually 
called Jacobite songs, and as the words were happily applicable 
to almost every change of circumstances which occurred prior to the 
final expulsion of the Stuarts from the throne, it has been more uni- 
formly popular than any other. Perhaps the sweetness and originality 
of the air to which it is sung, may likewise have contributed to render 
it so permanently a favourite. 


Nae mair wi' pincli and drouth we'll dine, 
As we lia'e done — a dog's propine, 
But quaff our waughts o' bouzy wine, 

Carle, an' the king come. 
Cogie, an' the king come, 
Cogie, an' the king come, 
I'se be fou, and thou'se be toom, 

Cogie, an' the king come. 


To curb usurpation, by th' assistance of France, 

With love to his country, see Charlie advance ! 
He's welcome to grace and distinguish this day, 

The sun brighter shines, and all nature looks 

gay. [praise ! 

Your glasses charge high, 'tis in great Charles' 

In praise, in praise, 'tis in great Charles' praise ; 
To's success your voices and instruments raise, 

To his success your voices and instruments 

Approach, glorious Charles, to this desolate land, 
And drive out thy foes with thy mighty hand ; 
The nations shall rise, and join as one man, 
To crown the brave Charles, the Chief of 
the Clan. 

Your glasses, &c. 

* Though entitled only the Restoration, this was originally a birth- 
day song, as well as a party one, commemorative of a change in the 
government. The words being adapted to a very fine air, it was long 
a prodigious favourite with the exclusively loyal. Like many others 
to the same tune, it was written for the twenty-ninth of May, the 
anniversary both of the birth and the restoration of Charles II. 


In his train see sweet Peace, fairest queen of 

the sky, 

Ev'ry bliss in her look, ev'ry charm in her eye, 

Whilst oppression, corruption, vile slav'ry, and 

fear, [appear. 

At his wish'd-for return never more shall 

Your glasses, &c. 

Whilst in pleasure's soft arms millions now 

court repose, [foes ; 

Our hero flies forth, though surrounded with 

To free us from tyrants ev'ry danger defies, 

And in liberty's cause, he conquers or dies ! 

Your glasses, &c. 

How hateful's the tyrant who lives by false fame, 

To satiate his pride sets our country in flame, 

How glorious the prince, whose great generous 

mind, [kind ! 

Makes true valour consist in relieving man- 

Your glasses, &c. 

Ye brave clans, on whom we just honour be- 
stow, [flow ! 
O think on the source whence our dire evils 
Commanded by Charles, advance to Whitehall, 
And fix them in chains who would Britons 
enthral. Your glasses, &c. 


Ye true sons of Scotia, together unite, 
And yield all your senses to joy and delight; 

• The Ettrick Shepherd says'he had this song from a curious collec- 
tion of ancient MS. songs, in the possession of Mr. D. Bridges, Jun., 


Give mirth its full scope, that the nations may see 
We honour our standard, the royal oak tree. 
All shall yield to the royal oak tree ; 
Bend to thee, majestic tree ! 
Honour'd was he who sat on thee. 
And thou, like him, thrice honour'd shalt be. 

When our great sovereign, Charles, was driv'n 
from his throne, [own, 

And dared scarce call kingdom or subjects his 
Old Pendril the miller, at the risk of his blood, 
Hid the King of our isle in the king of the wood. 
AU shaU yield, &c. 

In summer, in winter, in peace, and in war, 
'Tis known to ourselves, and to nations afar, 
That the oak of our isle can best screen us from 

Best keep out the foe, and best ride out the storm. 
AU shaU yield, &c. 

Let gard'ners and florists of foreign plants boast, 
And cull the poor trifles of each distant coast ; 
There's none of them all, from a shrub to a tree, 
Can ever compare, great royal oak, with thee. 
All shall yield, &c. 


Chinnie the deddy, and Rethy the monkey ; 
Leven the hero, and little Pitcunkie ; 

of Edinburgh ; but he disputes its Scottish origin, and seems to think 
it must be an old English composition. We have since seen it stated 
to be a modern production, and written by a member of the Royal 
Oak Society, instituted at Edinburgh, 17th February, 1772. 
* This song was written in 1668 by Lord New bottle, eldest son to 


O where shall ye see such, or find such a soudy ? 
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy. 

Deddy on politics dings all the nation, 

As well as Lord Huffie does for his discretion ; 

And Crawford comes next, with his Archie of 

Wilkie, and Webster, and Cherrytrees Davy. 

There's Greenock, there's Dickson, Houston of 
that ilkie, [think ye ? 

For statesmen, for taxmen, for soldiers, what 
Where shall ye see such, or find such a soudy ? 
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy. 

There's honest Mass Thomas, and sweet Geor- 
die Brodie, [Goudy, 

Weel kend Mr Wm Veitch, and Mass John 

For preaching, for drinking, for playing at 
noudy — 

Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy. 

There's Semple for pressing the grace on young 
lassies, [asses, 

There's Hervey and Williamson, two sleeky 

They preach well, and eat well, and play well 
at noudy — 

Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy. 

William, first Marquis of Lothian. The following are some of the 
heroes mentioned in it : — Chbinie ; Lord Melville, called Chin- 

nie from the length of his features. — Rethy; Lord Raith Little Pit- 

cunkie; Lord Melville's third son. — Leven the hero; who whipt Lady 
Mortonhall with his whip. He is the Lord Huffie of Dr. Pitcairn's 
" Assembly," where he is introduced beating fiddlers and horse-hirers. 
—Clierrytrtes Davie ; Rev. Mr. D. Williamson, famous in having been 
put to bed with Lord Burke's daughter by her mother, for the purpose 
of concealing him when pursued by the military. The young lady af- 
terwards proved with child. — Greenock, Dickson, Houston; taxmen of 


Bluff Mackay for lying, lean Lawrence for grip- 
ing, [piping. 
Grave Bernard for stories, Dalgleish for his 
Old Ainslie the prophet for leading a dancie, 
And Borland for cheating the tyrant of Francie. 

There's Menie the daughter, and Willie the 
cheater, [eater, 

There's Geordie the drinker, and Annie the 
Where shall ye see such, or find such a soudy ? 
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy. 

Next comes our statesmen, these blessed re- 
For lying, for drinking, for swearing enormous, 
Argyle and brave Morton, and Willie my Lor- 
Bannocks of bear meal, cakes of croudy. [die — 

My curse on the grain of this hale reformation, 
The reproach of mankind, and disgrace of our 

nation ; [them a soudy, 

De'il hash them, de'il smash them, and make 
Knead them like bannocks, and steer them like 



Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, 
Fareweel our ancient glory ; 

the customs. They were Sir J. Hall, Sir J. Dickson, and Mr. R. Young. 
—Borland ; this is Captain Drummond, a great turn-coat rogue, who 
kept the stores in the castle. — Grave Burnet; old Gribo. — Mary, 
Willie, and Annie ; prince and princess of Orange, and princess of 
Denmark.— ;lrgye ; he was killed (received his death's wound, at 
least) in a brothel near Newcastle. 

*The whigs who promoted the Union, and strenuously opposed 
etfery measure likely to prove favourable to the Stuarts, were the 


Fareweel e'en to the Scottish name, 

Sae fam'd in martial story. 
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands, 

And Tweed rins to the ocean, 
To mark where England's province stands 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation ! 

What force or guile coidd not subdue, 

Through many warlike ages, 
Is wrought now by a coward few, 

For hireling traitors' wages. 
The English steel we could disdain, 

Secure in valour's station, 
But English gold has been our bane : 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation ! 

O would, or I had seen the day 

That treason thus could sell us, 
My auld gray head had lain in clay, 

Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace ! 
But pith and power, till my last hour 

I'll make this declaration, 
We're bought and sold for English gold : 

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation ! 

i ha'e nae kith, i ha'e nae kin.* 

I ha'e nae kith, I ha'e nae kin, 
Nor ane that's dear to me, 

objects of bitter hatred to the partizans of that unfortunate race. 
This song is one of the angry ebullitions of the time. The air was 
popular as well as the words, and both have been since frequently 

* The verses here are, in respect both of sentiment and expression, 
in the most pleasing style of Scottish lyrical composition. The 
political allusions evidently refer to the time of Queen Anne. When 


For the bonny lad that I lo'e best, 

He's far ayont the sea. 
He's gane wi' ane that was our ain, 

And we may rue the day, 
When our king's ae daughter came here, 

To play sic foul play. 

O gin I were a bonny bird, 

Wi' wings that I might flee, 
Then I wad travel o'er the main, 

My ae true love to see ; 
Then I wad tell a joyfu' tale 

To ane that's dear to me, 
And sit upon a king's window, 

And sing my melody. 

The adder lies i' the corbie's nest, 

Aneath the corbie's wame, 
And the blast that reaves the corbie's brood 

Shall blaw our good king hame. 
Then blaw ye east, or blaw ye west, 

Or blaw ye o'er the faem, 
O bring the lad that I lo'e best, 

And ane I darena name ! 


My love he was a Highland lad, 
And come of noble pedigree, 

the tory faction gained the ascendancy in her reign, the hopes of those 
who favoured the Stuarts were greatly excited ; and it is not unlikely 
that the lines, 

" The adder i' the Corbie's nest, 
Aneath the corbie's wame," 
may be allegorical of some plot or intrigue which was then going oiv 
to further the pretender's views. 

* This song, like the preceding one, breathes a mixture of love and 


And nane could bear a truer heart, 
Or wield a better brand than he. 

And O, he was a bonny lad, 
The bravest lad that e'er I saw ! 

May ill betide the heartless wight 
That banish'd him and his awa. 

But had our good king kept the field, 

When traitors tarrow'd at the law, 
There hadna been this waefu' wark, 

The weariest time we ever saw. 
My love he stood for his true king, 

Till standing it could do nae mair : 
The day is lost, and sae are we ; 

Nae wonder mony a heart is sair. 

But I wad rather see him roam 

An outcast on a foreign strand, 
And wi' his master beg his bread, 

Nae mair to see his native land, 
Than bow a hair o' his brave head 

To base usurper's tyrannye ; 
Than cringe for mercy to a knave 

That ne'er was own'd by him nor me. 

But there's a bud in fair Scotland, 

A bud weel kend in glamourye ; 
And in that bud there is a bloom, 

That yet shall flower o'er kingdoms three ; 
And in that bloom there is a brier, 

Shall pierce the heart of tyrannye, 
Or there is neither faith nor truth, 

Nor honour left in our countrye. 

politics that greatly increases the interest of it. Probably both were 
female productions ; for, as the Ettrick Shepherd remarks, " the 
sympathy, delicacy, and vehemence which they manifest, are strongly 



As I came in by Achindown, 
A little wee bit frae the town, 
When to the Highlands I was boun', 

To view the haughs of Cromdale, 
I met a man in tartan trews, 
I spier'd at him what was the news ; 
Quoth he, the Highland army rues 

That e'er we came to Cromdale. 

We were in bed, Sir, every man, 
When the English host upon us came ; 
A bloody battle then began, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
The English horse they were sae rude, 
They bath'd their hoofs in Highland blood, 
But our brave clans they boldly stood, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 

characteristic of the female mind, ever ardent in the cause it 

* In this song two events are strangely jumbled together, though 
they are well known to have happened at many years distance from 
one another. The Ettrick Shepherd accounts for the anachronism by 
supposing that as the celebrated action in which 1500 brave High- 
landers were surprised and defeated at Cromedale in Strathspey, on 
the 1st of May, 1690, is the only battle on record that ever was fought 
there, it is more than probable that on that action the original song 
has been founded. The first twenty lines, he observes, contain a true 
description of that memorable defeat, and these twenty lines may be 
considered as either the whole or a part of the original song. As the 
words were good, and the air most beautiful, they had no doubt be- 
come popular; and hence some bard, partial to the clans, and fired 
with indignation at hearing their disgrace sung all over the land, 
must have added to the original verses those which evidently refer to 
the battle of Auldearn, gained by Montrose and the clans in 1645. It 
would never do now, says the Shepherd, in continuation, to separate 
this old and popular song into two parts ; but nothing can be clearer 
than that one part of the song describes the victory won by Montrose 
and the clans, from the whigs in 1645, and the other part, that 
which was obtained by the latter, under Livingston, over the clans in 


But alas ! we could no longer stay, 
For o'er the hills we came away, 
And sore we do lament the day 

That e'er we came to Cromdale. 
Thus the great Montrose did say, 
Can you direct the nearest way ? 
For I will o'er the hills this day, 

And view the haughs of Cromdale. 

Alas, my Lord, you're not so strong, 
You scarcely have two thousand men, 
And there's twenty thousand on the plain, 

Stand rank and file on Cromdale. 
Thus the great Montrose did say, 
I say, direct the nearest way, 
For I will o'er the hills this day, 

And see the haughs of Cromdale. 

They were at dinner, every man, 
When great Montrose upon them came, 
A second battle then began, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
The Grant, Mackenzie, and Mackay, 
Soon as Montrose they did espy, 
O then they fought most valiantly, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 

The M'Donalds they returned again, 
The Camerons did their standard join, 
M' In tosh play'd a bloody game, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
The M'Gregors fought like lions bold, 
M'Phersons none could them controul, 
M'Lauchlins fought with heart and soul, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 


M'Lean, M'Dougal, and M'Neal, 
So boldly as they took the field, 
And made their enemies to yield, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
The Gordons foremost did advance, 
The Frazers fought with sword and lance, 
The Grahams they made the heads to dance, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 

The loyal Stewarts, with Montrose, 

So fiercely set upon their foes, 

They brought them down with Highland blows, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 
Of twenty thousand Cromwell's men, 
Five hundred fled to Aberdeen, 
The rest of them lie on the plain, 

Upon the haughs of Cromdale. 


' O ken ye aught o' gude Lochiel, 

Or ken ye aught o' Airly ?' 
' They've buckled on their harnessing, 

And aff and awa wi' Charlie.' 

* James, Earl of Airly, was obliged to leave Scotland in 1640, to 
avoid subscribing the Covenant. The Marquis of Argyll had after- 
wards orders from Parliament to proceed against his castle and other 
possessions, and 5000 men were levied for that purpose. Airly and 
Forther, his two principal seats, were accordingly destroyed, and the 
tenantry were plundered of all their goods, corn, and cattle. Though 
apparently only an instrument in this act of political oppression and 
cruelty, Argyll was secretly the prime mover of it ; and, as not unfre- 
quently happened in those days, he afterwards paid the debt of retri- 
butive justice. At the restoration he was tried and condemned for 
political offences, and beheaded, May 27, 1661. He died, however, 
with great equanimity and fortitude. When on the scaffold he took 
out of his pocket a little rule and measured the block. Having per- 
ceived that it did not lie even , he pointed out the defect to a carpenter, 
had it rectified, and then calmly submitted to his fate. 


' Bring here to me,' quo' the hie Argyle, 
' My bands i' the morning early : 

We'll raise a lowe sail glint to heav'n 
I' the dwelling o' young Lord Airly.' 

c What lowe is yon,' quo' the gude Lochiel, 

' Whilk rises wi' the sun sae early?' 
' By the God o' my kin,' quo' the young Ogilvie, 

' It's my ain bonny hame o' Airly !' 
' Put up your sword,' quo' the gude Lochiel, 

And ' Put it up,' quo' Charlie : 
' We'll raise sic a lowe round the fause Argyle 

And light it wi' a spunk frae Airly.' 

' It is na my ha', nor my lands a' reft, 

That reddens my cheek sae sairly ; 
But the mither and babies sweet I left, 

To smoor i' the reek o' Airly.' 
O dule to thee, thou fause Argyle ! 

For this it rues me sairly : 
Thou'st been thy king and country's foe, 

From Lochy's day to Airly. 


Come, all fast friends, let's jointly pray, 
And pledge our vows on this great day ; 
And of no man we'll stand in awe, 
But drink his health that's far awa. 
He's o'er the seas and far awa, 
He's o'er the seas and far awa ; 
Yet of no man we'll stand in awe, 
But drink his health that's far awa. 

* This is one of the numerous songs which were aptly adapted to all 


Though he was banish'd from his throne, 
By parasites who now are gone 
To view the shades which are below, 
We'll drink his health that's far awa. 
He's o'er the seas, &c. 

Ye Presbyterians, where ye lie, 
Go home and keep your sheep and kye ; 
For it were fitting for you a' 
To drink his health that's far awa. 
He's o'er the seas, &c. 

But I hope he shortly will be home, 
And in good time will mount the throne ; 
And then we'll curse and ban the law 
That keepit our king sae lang awa. 
He's o'er the seas, &c. 

Disloyal Whigs, dispatch, and go 
To visit Noll and Will below : 
'Tis fit you at their coal should blaw, 
Whilst we drink their health that's far awa. 
He's o'er the seas, &c. 


I may sit in my wee croo house, 

At the rock and the reel to toil fu' dreary 

times and circumstances by the Jacobites, and it only lost its popula- 
rity when the return of the Stuarts had become hopeless. 

* Lady Mary Drummond, daughter of the Earl of Perth, was the 
heroine of this song, and is also supposed to be the authoress of it. 
So strongly was she attached to the Stuarts, when her two sons re- 
turned to Scotland, she never ceased to importune them, notwith- 
standing the fearful danger attending it, till they engaged actively 
in the cause of the exiled family. 


I may think on the day that's gane, 
And sigh and sab till I grow weary. 

I ne'er could brook, I ne'er could brook, 
A foreign loon to own or flatter ; 

But I will sing a ranting sang, 

That day our king comes o'er the water. 

gin I live to see the day, 

That I ha'e begged, and begged frae Heaven, 
I'll fling my rock and reel away, 

And dance and sing frae morn till even : 
For there is ane I winna name, 

That comes the reigning bike to scatter ; 
And I'll put on my bridal gown, 

That day our king comes o'er the water. 

1 ha'e seen the gude auld day, 

The day o' pride and chieftain glory, 
When royal Stuarts bare the sway, 

And ne'er heard tell o' Whig nor Tory. 
Though lyart be my locks and grey, 

And eild has crook'd me down — what matter ; 
I'll dance and sing ae ither day, 

That day our king comes o'er the water. 

A curse on dull and drawling Whig, 

The whining, ranting, low deceiver, 
Wi' heart sae black, and look sae big, 

And canting tongue o' clishmaclaver ! 
My father was a good lord's son, 

My mother was an earl's daughter, 
And I'll be Lady Keith again, 

That day our king comes o'er the water. 



You're welcome, Whigs, from Bothwell Brigs, 

Your malice is but zeal, boys ; 
Most holy sprites, the hypocrites, 

'Tis sack ye drink, not ale, boys ; 
I must aver, ye cannot err, 

In breaking God's commands, boys ; 
If ye infringe bishops or kings, 

You've heaven in your hands, boys. 

Suppose ye cheat, disturb the state, 

And steep the land with blood, boys ; 
If secretly your treachery 

Be acted, it is good, boys. 
The fiend himsel', in midst of hell, 

The pope, with his intrigues, boys, 
You'll equalize in forgeries ; 

Fair fa' you, pious Whigs, boys. 

You'll God beseech, in homely speech, 

To his coat-tail you'll claim, boys ; 
Seek lippies of grace frae his gawcie face, 

And bless and not blaspheme, boys. 
Your teachers they can kiss and pray, 

In zealous ladies' closets ; 
Your wts convert by Venus' art ; 

Your kirk has holy roset. 

* It has been well remarked, that in proportion to the desperate 
state of their master's affairs, the songs of the Jacobites used to be- 
come angry, bitter, and outrageous ; this song affords evidence of the 
fact. It was written obviously just after the Revolution in 1688, and 
is accordingly full of gall and ill humour. It is, perhaps, one of the 
best specimens that remains of the spleen and intemperance of the 
enemies of the whigs. 


Which death will tie promiscuously, 

Her members on the vail, boys, 
For horned beasts the truth attest, 

That live in Annandale, boys. 
But if one drink, or shrewdly think 

A bishop ere was saved, 
No charity from presbytrye, 

For that need once be craved. 

You lie, you lust, you break your trust. 

And act all kinds of evil, 
Your covenant makes you a saint, 

Although you live a devil. 
From murders, too, as soldiers true, 

You are advanced well, boys ; 
You fought like devils, your only rivals, 

When you were at Dunkeld, boys. 

Your wondrous things great slaughter brings. 

You kill'd more than you saw, boys ; 
At Pentland hills ye got your fills, 

And now you seem to craw, boys. 
Let Websters preach, and laddies teach 

The art of cuckoldry, boys, 
When cruel zeal comes in their tail, 

Then welcome presbytrye, boys. 

King William's hands, with lovely bands, 

You're decking with good speed, boys ; 
If you get leave, you'll reach his sleeve, 

And then have at his head, boys. 
You're welcome, Jack, we'll join a plack, 

To drink your last confusion, 
That grace and truth we may possess 

Once more without delusion. 



Clavers and his Highlandmen, 

Came down upon the raw, man, 
Who, being stout, gave many a clout, 

The lads began to claw, then. 
With sword and terge into their hand, 

Wi' which they were na slaw, man, 
Wi' mony a fearful heavy sigh, 

The lads began to claw, then. 

* The battle of Killicrankie was fought on the 17th of July, 1689, 
between a body of 3000 Highlanders, under the command of Graham 
of Claver house, Viscount Dundee, and an English and Scotch force, 
of from 4 to 5000 men, commanded by General Mackay. The two 
armies came in sight of one another about two o'clock of the day, but 
it was not till the evening that the battle began. Dundee, it is said, 
wished for the approach of night, which suited him either for victory 
or flight. Within an hour of sunset, therefore, the signal was given 
by the latter, and the Highlanders descended from the hill on which 
they were posted, in thick and separate columns to the attack. After 
a single desultory discharge, they rushed forward with the sword, be- 
fore the regulars, whose bayonets were then inserted within the mus- 
kets, could be prepared to receive or resist their furious attack. Their 
columns soon pierced through the thin and straggling line, where 
Mackay commanded in person, and their ponderous swords completed 
the rout. Within a few minutes the victors and the vanquished inter- 
mixed together in the field, in the pursuit, and in the river below, dis- 
appeared from view. MackayJ alone, when deserted by his horse and 
surrounded, forced his way with a few infantry to the right wing, 
where two regiments had maintained their ground. While the enemy 
were intent on plundering the baggage, he conducted these remain- 
ing troops in silence and in obscurity across the river, and continued 
his flight through the mountains till he reached Stirling. But Dun- 
dee, whose pursuit he dreaded, was himself no more. After a des- 
perate and successful charge on the English artillery, while in the act 
of extending his arm, to encourage his men forward, at the moment 
of victory, he received a shot in his side, through an opening in his 
armour, and dropt from horseback as he rode ofFthe field. He sur- 
vived, however, to write a concise and dignified account of the battle 
to King James. With the loss of 900 of his men, 2000 of his oppon- 
ents were killed or taken. A rude stone was erected on the spot to 
mark the victory to future times. His memory, though hateful to 
the whigs, was long lamented by his own party, and he is still cele- 
brated by some of them as the last of the Scots. The modern whigs 
say that Sir Walter Scott has prostituted his genius in making a hero 


O'er bush, o'er bank, o'er ditch, o'er stank, 

She flang amang them a', man ; 
The Butter-box got mony knocks, 

Their riggings paid for a' then. 
They got their paiks, wi' sudden straiks, 

Which to their grief they saw, man ; 
Wi' clinkum clankum o'er their crowns.. 

The lads began to fa' then. 

Hur skipt about, hur leapt about, 

And flang amang them a', man ; 
The English blades got broken heads, 

Their crowns were cleav'd in twa then. 
The durk and door made their last hour, 

And prov'd their final fa', man ; 
They thought the devil had been there, 

That play'd them sic a paw then. 

The solemn league and covenant, 

Cam whigging up the hills, man, 
Thought Highland trews durst not refuse 

For to subscribe their bills then : 
In Willie's * name they thought nae ane 

Durst stop their course at a', man, 
But hur nane-sell, wi' mony a knock, 

Cried, " Furich, whigs awa', man." 

Sir E van-Dim -J- , and his men true, 
Came linking up the brink, man ; 

The Hogan Dutch they feared such, 
They bred a horrid stink then. 

of this man, since it is indisputable that through life he was nothing 
but a blood-thirsty political ruffian, and only heroic in the accidental 
circumstance of his death. 

* The Prince of Orange. 

f Sir Evan Cameron of Lochiel. 


The true Maclean, and his fierce men, 

Came in amang them a', man ; 
Nane durst withstand his heavy hand, 

All fled and ran awa' then. 

Oh on a ri, oh on a ri, 

Why should she lose King Shames, man ? 
Oh rig in di, oh rig in di, 

She shall break a' her banes then ; 
With, furichinish, and stay a while, 

And speak a word or twa, man, 
She's gi' a straik out o'er the neck, 

Before ye win awa' then. 

O fy for shame, ye're three for ane, 

Hur nane-sell's won the day, man ; 
King Shames' red coats * should be hung up, 

Because they ran awa' then : 
Had bent their brows, like Highland trues, 

And made as lang a stay, man, 
They'd sav'd their king, that sacred thing, 

And Willie'd run away then. 

killicrankie Second Set. 

Whare ha'e ye been sae braw, lad ? 

Whare ha'e ye been sae brankie, O ? 
Whare ha'e ye been sae braw, lad ? 
Came ye by Killicrankie, O ? 

An ye had been whare I ha'e been, 

Ye wadna been sae cantie, O ; 

An ye had seen what I ha'e seen, 

I' the braes o' Killicrankie, O. 

I Irish recruits sent by King James to the assistance of Claverhouse. 


I faught at land, I faught at sea, 
At hame I faught my auntie, O ; 

But I met the devil and Dundee, 
On the braes o' Killicrankie, O. 
An ye had been, &c. 

The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr, 
And Clavers gat a clankie, O, 

Or I had fed an Athol gled 

On the braes o' Killicrankie, O. 
An ye had been, &c. 

O fie Mackay, what gart ye lie 

I' the bush ayont the brankie, O ? 
Ye'd better kiss'd King Willie's loof, 
Than come to Killicrankie, O. 
It's nae shame, it's nae shame, 

It's nae shame to shank ye, O ; 

There's sour slaes on Athol braes, 

And deils at Killicrankie, O. 

HAME. * 

By yon castle wa', at the close o' the day, 
I heard a man sing, though his head it was grey ; 
And as he was singing, the tears down came, 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 
The church is in ruins, the state is in jars, 
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars ; 
We darena weel say't, but we ken wha's to blame ; 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 

* The plaintive tone of this song, independent of its politics, and 
the beauty of the air to which it was sung, made it long exceedingly 
|X)pular among the Jacobites.— (See Hogg's Relics.) 


My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, 
And now I greet round their green beds in the 

It brak the sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld 

dame : 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 
Now life is a burden that bows me down, 
Sin' I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown ; 
But till my last moments my words are the same, 
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 


this is no my ain house, 

1 ken by the biggin o't ; 

For bow-kail thrave at my door cheek, 
And thristles on the riggin o't. 

A carle came wi' lack o' grace, 

Wi' unco gear and unco face ; 

And sin' he claim'd my daddy's place, 
I downa bide the triggin o't. 

Wi' routh o' kin, and routh o' reek, 
My daddy's door it wadna steek ; 
But bread and cheese were his door-cheek, 
And girdle cakes the riggin o't. 

O this is no my ain house, &c. 

My daddy bag his housie week 
By dint o' head and dint o' heel, 
By dint o' arm and dint o' steel, 
And muckle weary priggin o't. 

O this is no my ain house, &c. 

* This was also a very popular song for a long time, probably on 
account of the familiar and easy character of the air, as well as for 


Then was it dink, or was it douce, 
For ony cringing foreign goose 
To claucht my daddie's wee bit house, 
And spoil the hamely triggin o't ? 
O this is no my ain house, &c. 

Say, was it foid, or was it fair, 
To come a hunder mile and mair, 
For to ding out my daddy's heir, 
And dash him wi' the whiggin o't ? 
O this is no my ain house, &c. 


O Willie, Willie Wanbeard, 

He's awa' frae hame, 
Wi' a budget on his back, 

An' a wallet at bis wame : 
Bui some "will sit on his seat, 

Some will eat his meat, 
Some will stand i' his shoon, 

Or he come again. 

O Willie, WiUie Wanbeard, 

He's awa' to ride, 
Wi' a bullet in his bortree, 

And a shabble by his side ; 
But some will white wi' Willie's knife, 

Some will kiss Willie's wife, 
Some will wear his bonnet 

Or he come again. 

tiie coarsa character of the satire against the reigning King. Ramsay 
paraphrased it into a love song, which is poor in comparison with the 

* A satire on King William's departure to join his army in Ireland 
previous to the battle of the Boyne. 


O Willie, Willie Wanbeard, 

He's awa' to sail, 
Wi' water in his waygate, 

An' wind in his tail, 
Wi' his back boonermost, 

An' his kyte downermost, 
An' his flype hindermost, 

Fighting wi' his kail. 

O Willie, Willie Wanbeard, 

He's awa' to fight ; 
But fight dog, fight bane, 

Willie will be right : 
An' he'll do, what weel he may, 

An' has done for mony a day ; 
Wheel about, an' rin away, 

Like a wally wight. 

O saw ye Willie Wanbeard 

Riding through the rye ? 
O saw ye Daddy Duncan 

Praying like to cry ? 
That howe in a 'tato fur 

There may Willie lie, 
Wi' his neb boonermost 

An' his doup downermost, 
An' his flype hindermost, 

Like a Pessie pie. 

Play, piper, play, piper, 

Play a bonny spring, 
For there's an aidd harper 

Harping to the king, 
Wi' his sword by his side, 

An' his sign on his reade, 


An' his crown on his head, 
Like a true king. 


It was a' for our rightfu' king 
We left fair Scotland's strand ! 

It was a' for our rightfu' king 
We e'er saw Irish land, my dear, 
We e'er saw Irish land. 

Now a' is done that men can do, 

An' a' is done in vain : 
My love an' native land, fareweel, 

For I maun cross the main, my dear, 

For I maun cross the main. 

He turn'd him right an' round about, 

Upon the Irish shore, 
An' ga'e his bridle-reins a shake, 

With, Adieu for evermore, my dear, 

With, Adieu for evermore. 

* Captain Ogilvie, of the house of Inverquharity, is believed to have 
been the author of this song. He was with King James at the battle 
of the Boyne, and afterwards fell in an engagement on the Rhine. 
It is said also that he was one of the hundred gentlemen, all of good 
families, who volunteered to attend their royal master in his exile, 
James had afterwards the pain of seeing these devoted followers sub- 
mit, voluntarily, to become private soldiers on his account in the 
French service, rather than return to their own country, with per- 
mission of the government, although it was optional to them to do 
so. They were formed into one company, and fought both in Spain 
and on the Rhine with heroic valour and reputation. At the peace 
of 1696, only sixteen of them remained alive. Of the whole number 
only four were Catholics ; the rest were Protestants of the Episco- 
palian persuasion, and several of them had been bred as divines. — 
What is perhaps still more curious, by far the greater portion of 
them were lowlanders. 


The sodger frae the wars returns, 

The sailor frae the main ; 
But I hae parted frae my love, 

Never to meet again, my dear, 

Never to meet again. 

When day is gane, an' night is come, 

An' a' folk bound to sleep, 
I think on him that's far awa, 

The lee-lang night, an' weep, my dear, 

The lee-lang night, an' weep. 


O, I had a wee bit mailin, 

And I had a good gray mare, 
And I had a braw bit dwalling, 

Till Willie the wag came here. 
He waggit me out o' my mailin, 

He waggit me out o' my gear, 
And out o' my bonny black gowny, 

That ne'er was the waur o' the wear. 

He fawn'd and he waggit his tail, 

Till he poison'd the true well-e'e ; 
And wi' the wagging o' his fause tongue, 

He gart the brave Monmouth die. 
He waggit us out o' our rights, 

And he waggit us out o' our law, 
And he waggit us out o' our king ; 

O that grieves me the warst of a'. 

* A satirical complaint of King William's intrusion, as it was called 
by the Jacobites, at the Revolution in 1688. The present song is a 
squib at his ingratitude to his father-in-law James. 


The tod rules o'er the lion, 

The midden's aboon the moon, 
And Scotland maun cower and cringe 

To a fause and a foreign loon. 
O walyfu' fa' the piper 

That sells his wind sae dear ! 
And O walyfu' fa' the time 

When Willie the wag came here ! 

o what's the rhyme to porringer? 

O What's the rhyme to porringer? 

Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
King James the Seventh had ae dochter. 

And he ga'e her to an Oranger. 

Ken ye how he requited him ? 

Ken ye how he requited him ? 
The lad has into England come, 

And ta'en the crown in spite o' him. 

The dog, he sanna keep it lang, 

To flinch we'll make him fain again ; 
We'll hing him hie upon a tree, 

And James shall hae his ain again. 

Ken ye the rhyme to grasshopper? 

Ken ye the rhyme to grasshopper ? 
A hempen rein, and a horse o' tree, 

A psalm-book and a presbyter. 


O tell me, Fader Dennison,* 
Do you tink dat my life be done ? 

■ This is a misnomer, and alludes to Dr Thomas Tennison, Arch- 


So be, den do I leave vit you 

My parshments and my trunks at Loo ; 

Von cup, von cloak, von coverlid, 

Von press, von black book, and von red ; 

Dere you vill find direction give, 

Vat mans shall die, and vat must live. 

Dere you vill find it in my vill, 

Vat kings must keep deir kingdoms still, 

And, if dey please, who dem must quit ; 

Mine good vench Anne must look to it. 

Voe's me, dat I did ever sat 

On trone ! — But now no more of dat. 

Take you, moreover, Dennison, 

De cursed horse dat broke dis bone.* 

Take you, beside, dis ragged coat, 
And all de curses of de Scot, 
Dat dey did give me vonder veil, 
For Darien and dat Macdonell. 
Dese are de tings I fain void give, 
Now dat I have not time to live : 

take dem off mine hands, I pray ! 
I'll go de lighter on my vay. 

1 leave unto dat poor vench Anne, 
Von cap void better fit von man, 
And vit it all de firebrands red, 

Dat in dat cap have scorch'd mine head. 

bishop of Canterbury, a celebrated polemic -writer against popery, -who 
attended King William during his last illness. ' Darien and Macdon- 
ell,' mentioned in the third verse, evidently alludes to the Scots set- 
tlement at Darien, and the massacre of the Macdonalds at Glencoe 
which are here made to hang heavy on the mind of William. 

* King William's death was occasioned by his horse stumbling on 
a mole hillock. ' The little gentleman in black velvet,' was afterwards 
a favourite toast with the Jacobites of that day, in allusion to the 
mole which was the cause of his death. 


All dis I hereby do bequeath, 
Before I shake de hand vit death. 
It is de ting could not do good, 
It came vit much ingratitude. 

And tell her, Dennison, vrom me, 
To lock it by most carefully, 
And keep de Scot beyond de Tweed, 
Else I shall see dem ven I'm dead. 
I have von hope, I have but von, 
'Tis veak, but better vit dan none ; 
Me viss it prove not von intrigue — 
De prayer of de selfish Whig. 


I'll sing you a song, my brave boys, 
The like you ne'er heard of before ; 

Old Scotland at last is grown wise, 
And England shall bully no more. 

Succession, the trap for our slaver}', 

A true Presbyterian plot, 
Advanc'd by by-ends and knavery, 

Is now kicked out by a vote. 

The Lutheran damef may be gone, 
Our foes shall address us no more, 

If the treaty:): should never go on, 
She for ever is kick'd out of door. 

* The Earl of Marchmont having one day presented an act for 
settling the succession in the house of Hanover, it was treated with 
such contempt, that some proposed it might be burnt, and others 
that it might be sent to the castle, and was at last thrown out of the 
house by a majority of fifty-seven voices.— Lockhart's Memoirs, p. 60. 

f Sophia, electress-dowager of Hanover, mother of George I. 

t For the union of the two kingdoms. 


To bondage we now bid adieu, 

The English shall no more oppress us ; 

There's something in every man's view 
That in due time we hope shall redress us. 

This hundred years past we have been 
Dull slaves, and ne'er strove yet to mend ; 

It came by an old barren queen, 
And now we resolve it shall end. 

But grant the old woman should come, 
And England with treaties shoidd woo us, 

We'll clog her before she comes home, 
That she ne'er shall have power to undo us. 

Then let us go on and be great, 
From parties and quarrels abstain ; 

Let us English councils defeat, 
And Hanover ne'er mention again. 

Let grievances now be redress'd, 
Consider, the power is our own ; 

Let Scotland no more be oppress'd, 
Nor England lay claim to our crown. 

Let us think with what blood and what care 
Our ancestors kept themselves free ; 

What Bruce, and what Wallace could dare ; 
If they did so much, why not we ? 

Let Montrose and Dundee be brought in, 
As later examples before you ; 

And hold out but as you begin, 

Like them, the next age will adore you. 


Here's a health, my brave lads, to the duke* 
Who has the great labour begun ; 
He shall flourish, whilst those who forsook 
To Holland for shelter shall run. 

Here's a health to those that stood by him, 
To Fletcher,f and all honest men ; 

Ne'er trust the damn'd rogues that belie 'em, 
Since all our just rights they maintain. 

Once more to great Hamilton's health, 
The hero that still keeps his ground ; 

To him we must own all our wealth : — 
Let the Christian liquor go round. 

Let all the sham tricks of the court, 
That so often have foil'd us before, 

Be now made the country's sport, 
And England shall fool us no more. 


Shame fa' my een, 
If e'er I have seen 
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation ! 

* James, Duke of Hamilton ; able and spirited, but unsteady. He 
was killed 15th Nov., 1712, in a duel with Lord Mohun, and, as was 
suspected, received his death's wound from General Macartney, that 
nobleman's second; he himself falling at the same time. 

f Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun, a warm and strenuous advocate 
for republican government, and the natural rights of mankind. He 
has left a volume of excellent political discourses. 

^ This song is chiefly valuable as comprising the names of all the 
leading whigs who strenuously promoted the Union, a measure to 
which, of course, the Jacobites were violently opposed. 


The Campbell and the Graham 

Are equally to blame, 
Seduc'd by strong infatuation. 

The Squadronie* and Whig 

Are uppish and look big, 
And mean for to ride at their pleasure ; 

To lead us by the nose 

Is what they now propose, 
And enhance to themselves all our treasure. 

The Dalrymples come in play, 

Though they sold us all away, 
And basely betrayed this poor nation ; 

On justice lay no stress, 

For our country they oppress, 
Having no sort of commiseration. 

No nation ever had 

A set of men so bad, 
That feed on its vitals like vultures : 

Bargeny, and Glenco, 

And the Union, do show 
To their country and crown they are traitors. 

Lord Annandale must rule, 

Though at best a very tool, 
Hath deceiv'd every man that did trust him ; 

To promise he'll not stick, 

To break will be as quick ; 
Give him money, ye cannot disgust him. 

It happen'd on a day, 

" Us cavaliers," he'd say, 
And drink all their healths in a brimmer j 

* The Marquis of Tweedale and his party were called the squadronc 
vulante, from their pretending to act by themselves, and turn the 
balance of the contending parties in Parliament. 


But now he's chang'd his note, 
And again has turn'd his coat, 
And acted the part of a limmer. 

Little Rothes now may huff, 

And all the ladies cuff; 
Coully Black* must resolve to knock under ; 

Belhaven hath of late 

Found his father was a cheat, 
And his speech on the Union a blunder ■ 

Haddington, that saint, 

May roar, blaspheme, and rant, 
He's a prop to the kirk in his station ; 

And Ormiston may hang 

The Tories all, and bang 
Every man that's against reformation. 

Can any find a flaw, 

To Sir James Stuart's skill in law, 
Or doubt of his deep penetration ? 

His charming eloquence 

Is as obvious as his sense ; 
His knowledge comes by generation. 

Though there's some pretend to say 

He is but a lump of clay, 
Yet these are malignants and Tories, 

Who to tell us are not shy, 

That he's much inclin'd to lie, 
And famous for coining of stories. 

Mr Cockburn, with fresh airs, 
Most gloriously appears, 

• The Ear! of Rothes fought in the street with a caddie or porter 
called Black, because in derision of the whigs he wore a hat with 
white tracing. Rothes is said to have been killed in the affray. 


Directing his poor fellow-creatures ; 

And who would not admire 

A youth of so much fire, 
So much sense, and such beautiful features ? 

Lord Polworth need not grudge 

The confinement of a judge, 
But give way to his lusts and his passion, 

Burn his linens every day, 

And his creditors ne'er pay, 
And practise all the vices in fashion. 

Mr Bailey's surly sense, 

And Roxburgh's eloquence, ■ 
Must find out a design'd assassination ; 

If their plots are not well laid, 

Mr Johnstoun will them aid, 
He's expert in that nice occupation. 

Though David Bailey's dead, 

Honest Kersland's in his stead,* 
His Grace can make use of such creatures ; 

Can teach them how to steer, 

'Gainst whom and where to swear, 
And prove those he hates to be traitors. 

Lord Sutherland may roar, 

And drink as heretofore, 
For he's the bravo of the party ; 

Was ready to command 

Jeanie Man's trusty band, 
In concert with the traitor M'Kertney. 

* David Bailey, and after his death, Kerr of Kersland, are said to 
have acted a double part in the politics of this period. They were 
employed by Queensberry for the whigs, and by the leading Jacobites 
at the same time, and they are accused of having proved traitors 
to the latter by revealing all their secret proceedings to the whig 


Had not Loudon got a flaw, 

And been lying on the straw, 
He'd been of great use in his station : 

Though he's much decay'd in grace, 

His son succeeds his place, 
A youth of great application. 

In naming of this set, 

"We by no means must forget 
That man of renown, Captain Monro ; 

Though he looks indeed asquint, 

His head's as hard as flint, 
And he well may be reckon'd a hero. 

Zealous Harry Cunningham e 

Hath acquir'd a lasting fame 
By the service he's done to the godly : 

A regiment of horse 

Hath been given away much worse 
Than to him who did serve them so boldly. 

The Lord Ross's daily food 
Was on martyrs' flesh and blood, 

And he did disturb much devotion : 
Although he did design 
To o'erturn King Willie's reign, 

Yet he must not want due promotion. 
Like a saint sincere and true, 
He discover'd all he knew, 

And for more there was then no occasion. 
Since he made this godly turn, 
His breast with zeal doth burn, 

For the king and a pure reformation. 

The Lady Lauderdale, 
And Forfar's mighty zeal, 
Brought their sons very soon into favour : 


With grace they did abound, 

The sweet of which they found, 
When they for their offspring did labour. 

There's Tweeddale and his club, 

Who have given many a rub 
To their honour, their prince, and this nation : 

Next to that heavy drone, 

Poor silly Skipness John, 
Have established the best reputation. 

In making of this list, 

Lord Hay should be first, 
A man most upright in spirit ; 

He's sincere in all he says, 

A double part ne'er plays, 
His word he'll not break, you may swear it. 

Drummond, Warrender, and Smith, 

Have serv'd with all their pith, 
And claim some small consideration. 

Give Hyndford his dragoons, 

He'll chastise the Tory loons, 
And reform ev'ry part of the nation. 

Did ever any prince 

His favours thus dispense 
On men of no merit nor candour ? 

Would any king confide 

In men that so deride 
All notions of conscience and honour ? 

Hath any been untold, 

How these our country sold, 
And would sell it again for more treasure ? 

Yet, alas ! these very men 

Are in favour now again, 
And do rule us and ride us at pleasure. 



You're right, Queen Anne, Queen Anne, 

You're right Queen Anne, Queen Anne, 
You've tow'd us into your hand, 

Let them tow out wha can. 
You're right, Queen Anne, Queen Anne, 

You're right, Queen Anne, my dow ; 
You've curried the auld mare's hide, 

She'll funk nae mair at you. 
I'll tell you a tale, Queen Anne, 

A tale of truth ye'se hear; 
It is of a wise aidd man, 

That had a good gray mare. 

He'd twa mares on the hill, 

And ane into the sta', 
But this auld thra wart jade, 

She was the best of a'. 
This auld mare's head was stiff, 

But nane sae weel could pu' ; 
Yet she had a will o' her ain, 

Was unco ill to bow. 
Whene'er he touch'd her flank, 

Then she begoud to glowr ; 
And she'd pu' up her foot, 

And ding the auld man owre. 

And when he graith'd the yaud, 
Or curried her hide fu' clean, 

* The poetry of this song is mere doggrel, but the allegory is good. 
By the twa mares on the hill, Ireland and Wales are meant. And 
England by the ane into the sta', as enjoying the principal fruits of the 
Union. Scotland is represented by the avid gray mare; while the 
Farrier stout and his smiths, are Queensberry and his hirelings, who 
effected the Union. The drift of the song is evidently to represent 
to Queen Anne the danger of forming a union between the two king- 


Then she wad fidge and wince, 

And shaw twa glancing een. 
Whene'er her tail play'd whisk, 

Or when her look grew skeigh, 
It's then the wise anld man 

Was blyth to stand abeigh. 
" The deil tak that auld brute," 

Quo' he, " and me to boot, 
But I sail hae amends, 

Though I should dearly rue't." 

He hired a farrier stout, 

Frae out the west countrye, 
A crafty selfish loon, 

That lo'ed the white moneye : 
That lo'ed the white moneye, 

The white but and the red ; 
And he has ta'en an aith 

That he wad do the deed. 
And he brought a' his smiths, 

I wat he paid them weel, 
And they hae seiz'd the yaud, 

And tied her head and heel. 

They tow'd her to a bauk, 

On pulleys gart her swing, 
Until the good auld yaud 

Could nowther funk nor fling. 
And rippet her wi' a spur, 

Ane daudit her wi' a flail, 
Ane proddit her in the lisk, 

Anither aneath the tail. 
The auld wise man he leugh, 

And wow but he was fain ! 

doms. There is considerable humour displayed in it, though rather 
of a vulgar kind. 


And bade them prod eneugh, 
And skelp her owre again. 

The mare was hard bested, 

And graned and routed sair ; 
And aye her tail play'd whisk, 

When she dought do nae mair. 
And aye they bor'd her ribs, 

And ga'e her the tither switch 
" We'll learn ye to be douce, 

Ye auld wansonsy b — h." 
The mare right piteous stood, 

And bore it patiently ; 
She deem'd it a' for good, 

Though good she couldna see; 

But desperation's force 

Will drive a wise man mad : 
And desperation's force 

Has rous'd the good auld yaud. 
And when ane desperate grows, 

I tell you true, Queen Anne, 
Nane kens what they will do, 

Be it a beast or man. 
And first she shook her lugs, 

And then she ga'e a snore, 
And then she ga'e a reirde, 

Made a' the smiths to glowr. 

The auld wise man grew baugh, 
And turn'd to shank away : 

" If that auld deil get loose," 
Quo' he, "we'll rue the day." 

The thought was hardly thought, 
The word was hardly sped, 


When down came a' the house, 

Aboon the auld man's head : 
For the yaud she made a broost, 

Wi' ten yauds' strength and mair, 
Made a' the kipples to crash, 

And a' the smiths to rair. 

The smiths were smoor'd ilk ane, 

The wise auld man was slain ; 
The last word e'er he said, 

Was, wi' a waefu' mane, 
" O wae be to the yaud, 

And a' her hale countrye ! 
I wish I had letten her rin r 

As wild as wild could be." 
The yaud she 'scaped away 

Frae 'mang the deadly stoure, 
And chap'd awa hame to him 

That aught her ance afore. 

Take heed, Queen Anne, Queen Anne, 
Take heed, Queen Anne, my doio ,• 

The auld gray mare's ourseV, 
The wise auld man is you. 


Now fy let u s a' to the treaty, 
For there will be wonders there, 

For Scotland is to be a bride, sir, 
And wed to the Earl of Stair. 

Three's Queensberry, Seafleld, and Mar, sir,* 
And Morton comes in by the bye ; 

* Queensberry had been created a Duke by James II., bat never- 


There's Loudon, and Leven, and Weems, sir, 
And Sutherland, frequently dry. 

There's Roseberry, Glasgow, and Duplin, 

And Lord Archibald Campbell, and Ross ; 
The president, Francis Montgomery, 

Wha ambles like ony paced horse. [lad, 

There's Johnstoun, Dan Campbell, and Ross, 

Whom the court hath had still on their bench ; 
There's solid Pitmedden and Forgland, 

Wha design'd jumping on to the bench. 

There's Ormistoun and Tillicoultrie, 

And Smollett for the town of Dumbarton ; 
There's Arniston, too, afld Carnwathie, 

Put in by his uncle, L. Wharton ; 
There's Grant, and young Pennicook, sir, 

Hugh Montgomery, and Davy Dalxymple ; 
There's one who will surely bear bouk, sir, 

Prestongrange, who indeed is not simple. 

Now the Lord bless the jimp one-and-thirty, 
If they prove not traitors in fact, 

theless supported the interests of the Prince of Orange, and took the 
lead in promoting the union. 

Seafield, son to the Earl of Findlater ; was bred a lawyer, and 
at the convention in 16S9. supported the cause of King James, but 
was afterwards brought over by the Duke of Hamilton to the interest 
of William, and in 1695 was made one of his secretaries of state. He 
was selfish, mean, and proud ; and when the treaty of union, which 
terminated the independence of Scotland as a kingdom, was carried, 
he is said to have exclaimed, " There is the end o' an auld sang." 
This wanton insult to his country was not overlooked. His brother, 
Captain Ogilvie, who was a considerable farmer and cattle dealer, be- 
ing reproved by him for engaging in a profession so mean, is said to 
have retorted, " True, brother, I dinna flee sae high as you, but we 
maun baith do as we dow — I only sell norvt, but ye sell nationt." 

The other characters mentioned in this song are sufficiently known 
by their names; but of the part some of them took in bringing about 
that event, no notice is taken by any of the annalists of that period. 


But see that their bride be well drest, sir, 

Or the devil take all the pack. 
May the devil take all the hale pack, sir, 

Away on his back with a bang ; 
Then well may our new-buskit bridie 

For her ain first wooer think lang. 


Aw a, Whigs, awa, 

Awa, Whigs, awa, 
Ye're but a pack o' traitor loons, 
Ye'll ne'er do good at a'. 
Our thristles flourish'd fresh and fair, 

And bonny bloom'd our roses ; 
But Whigs came like a frost in June, 
And wither'd a' our posies. 
Awa, Whigs, &c. 

Our sad decay in kirk and state 

Surpasses my descriving ; 
The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse, 

And we ha'e done wi' thriving. 
Awa, Whigs, &c. 

A foreign Whiggish loon brought seeds 

In Scottish yird to cover, 
But we'll pu' a' his dibbled leeks, 

And pack him to Hanover. 
Awa, Whigs, &c. 

* None of the Jacobite songs have been more popular than this, 
chiefly on account of the beauty of its air, which is said to be the 
most ancient of all the Scottish airs. The Piper to Clavers's own 
troop of horse is reported to have played it with so much vigour and 
fury while standing on a bank of the Clyde, at the battle of Bothwell 
Bridge, that he attracted particular notice, and a Whig bullet ac- 


Our ancient crown's fa'n i' the dust, 
Deil blind them wi' the stoure o't ; 

And write their names i' his black beuk, 
Wha ga'e the Whigs the power o't. 
Awa, Whigs, &rc. 

Grim vengeance lang has ta'en a nap. 
But we may see him wauken ; 

Gude help the day, when royal heads 
Are hunted like a maukin ! 
Awa, Whigs, &c. 

The deil he heard the stoure o' tongues, 
And ramping cam amang us ; 

But he pitied us sae curs'd wi' Whigs, 
He turn'd and wadna wrang us. 
Awa, Whigs, &c. 

The deil sat grim amang the reek, 

Thrang bundling brunstane matches ; 
And croon'd 'mang the beuk-taking Whigs 
Scraps of auld Calvin's catches. 
Awa, Whigs, awa, 

Awa, Whigs, awa, 
Ye'll run me out o' wun spunks, 
Awa, Whigs, awa. 


My daddy had a riding mare, 
And she was ill to sit, 

cordingly sent his Pipership reeling over into the flood below, where 
he was drowned. The fourth and fifth verses of this song are 
modern, and have been ascribed to Burns. 

* This is a good specimen of the vulgarity of Jacobite wit, and is 
nly one of a hundred which might be given of the same kind. The 


And by there came an unco loon, 

And slippit in his fit. 
He set his fit into the st'rup, 

And gripped sickerly ; 
And aye sinsyne, my dainty mare, 

She flings and glooms at me. 

This thief he fell and brain'd himseP, 

And up gat couthy Anne ; 
She gripped the mare, the riding gear 

And halter in her hand : 
And on she rade, and fast she rade, 

O'er necks o' nations three ; 
Fient that she ride the aiver stiff, 

Sin' she has geck'd at me ! 

The Whigs they ga'e my Auntie draps 

That hasten'd her away, 
And then they took a cursed oath, 

And drank it up like whey : 
Then they sent for a bastard race, 

Whilk I may sairly rue, 
And for a horse they've got an ass, 

And on it set a sow. 

Then hey the ass, the dainty ass, 
That cocks aboon them a' ! 

riding mare is typical of the Government ; King William, Queen 
Anne, and George I. are the Sovereigns satirised. The joke of the 
Sow, refers to the Countess of Darlington, a mistress of the latter, 
whom he brought over with him from Hanover. Having been ex- 
cessively fat, she never got any other name from the Jacobites than 
the Sorv. It is reported of this lady, that being insulted by a mob 
one day, she cried out of her coach in the best English she could, 
" Coot peoples, vy do you wrong us ? We be come for all your coots." 
— " Yes, damn ye!" cried one of the crowd, " and for all our 
chattels, too, I think." 


And hey the sow, the dainty sow, 
That soon will get a fa' ! 

The graith was ne'er in order yet, 
The bridle wasna worth a doit ; 

And mony ane will get a bite, 
Or cuddy gangs awa. 


Wha the deil hae we got for a king, 
But a wee, wee German lairdie ! 

An' when we gaed to bring him hame, 
He was delving in his kail-yardie : 

Sheughing kail, and laying leeks, 

But the hose and but the breeks ; 

Up his beggar duds he cleeks, 
The wee, wee German lairdie ! 

And he's clapt down in our gudeman's chair, 

The wee, wee German lairdie ! 
And he's brought fouth o' foreign trash, 

And dibbled them in his yardie : 
He's pu'd the rose o' English loons, 
And brake the harp o' Irish clowns, 
But our Scots thristle will jag his thumbs, 

The wee, wee German lairdie. 

Come up amang the Highland hills, 

Thou wee, wee German lairdie, 
And see how Charlie's lang-kail thrive, 

That he dibbled in his yardie : 

* The derision and contempt implied in this song are so familiarly 
ludicrous, that it is a general favourite even at the present day. It 
is sung to many different tunes. The Ettrick Shepherd asserts that 
he composed the air to which it is generally sung in the Southern 
Counties many years ago. 


And if a stock ye daur to pu', 
Or haud the yoking of a pie ugh, 
We'll break your sceptre o'er your mou', 
Thou wee bit German lairdie ! 

Our hills are steep, our glens are deep, 

No fitting for a yardie ; 
And our norlan' thristles winna pu', 

Thou wee, wee German lairdie ! 
And we've the trenching blades o' wier, 
Wad lib ye o' your German gear, 
And pass ye 'neath the claymore's sheer, 

Thou feckless German lairdie ! 

He'll ride nae mair on strae sonks, 

For gawing his German hurdies ; 
But he sits on our gude king's throne, 

Amang the English lordies. 
Auld Scotland ! thou'rt owre cauld a hole 

For nursing siccan vermin ; 
But the very dogs o' England's court 

Can bark and howl in German ! 


Came ye o'er frae France ? 

Came ye down by Lunnon? 
Saw ye Geordie Whelps,f 

And his bonny woman ? 
Were ye at the place 

Ca'd the Kittle Housie ? \ 

*This is another specimen of the vulgar mode in which the Jaco- 
bites displayed their wit. It is, nevertheless, a smart rant. 

f A low term used by the Jacobites for Guelph, the family name of 
the House of Hanover. 

$ Parliament. 


Saw ye Geordie's grace 
Riding on a goosie ? 

Geordie he's a man, 

There is little doubt o't ; 
He's done a' he can, 

Wha can do without it ? 
Down there came a blade,* 

Linkin like my lordie ; 
He wad drive a trade 

At the loom o' Geordie. 

Though the claith were bad, 

Blythly may we niffer ? 
Gin we get a wab, 

It makes little differ. 
We hae tint our plaid, 

Bannet, belt, and swordie, 
Ha's and mailins braid — 

But we hae a Geordie ! 

Jocky's gane to France, 

And Montgomery's lady ; 
There they'll learn to dance : 

Madam, are you ready ? 
They'll be back belyve, 

Belted, brisk, and lordly ; 
Brawly may they thrive 

To dance a jig wi' Geordie ! 

Hey for Sandy Don ! 

Hey for Cockolorum ! 
Hey for Bobbing John,f 

And his Highland quorum ! 

* Count Koningsmark. 

f John, Earl of Mar, who, about this time, was raising force* I 


Mony a sword and lance 
Swings at Highland hurdie : 

How they'll skip and dance 
O'er the bum o' Geordie ! 


It's Geordie's now come hereabout, 
O wae light on his sulky snout ! 
A pawky sow has found him out, 
And turn'd her tail to Geordie. 
The sow's tail is till him yet, 
A sow's birse will kill him yet, 
The sow's tail is till him yet, 
The sow's tail to Geordie ! 

It's Geordie he came up the town, 
Wi' a bunch o' turnips on his crown ; 
" Aha!" quo' she, " I'll pull them down, 
And turn my tail to Geordie." 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

It's Geordie he gat up to dance, 
And wi' the sow to take a prance, 
And aye she gart her hurdies flaunce, 
And turn'd her tail to Geordie. 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

the cause of the Chevalier. Sandy Don and Cockolorum allude to 
some of the other chieftains engaged in the same interest. 

* The humour of this satirical song atones for the grossness of it. 
Hogg says that when a boy he heard it frequently sung by an old 
woman, a determined Jacobite, who always accompanied it with the 
information, that " it was a cried-down sang, but she didna mind 
that ; and that baith it and O'er Bogie were cried down at Edinburgh 
cross on the same day." George the First's mistress, Lady Darling- 
ton, is here again designated by the Sow. This lady was a constant 
theme for lampoon. Horace Walpole's description of her is amusing. 


It's Geordie he gaed out to hang, 
The sow came round him wi' a bang : 
" Aha!" quo' she, "there's something wrang; 
I'll turn my tail to Geordie." 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

The sow and Geordie ran a race, 
But Geordie fell and brake his face : 
" Aha !" quo' she, " I've won the race, 
And turn'd my tail to Geordie." 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

It's Geordie he sat down to dine, 
And wha came in but Madam Swine ? 
" Grumph ! Grumph !" quo' she, " I'm come 
I'll sit and dine wi' Geordie." [in time, 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

It's Geordie he lay down to die ; 
The sow was there as weel as he : 
" Umph ! Umph !" quo' she, "he's no for me," 
And turn'd her tail to Geordie. 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

It's Geordie he gat up to pray, 
She mumpit round and ran away : 
" Umph ! Umph !" quo' she, " he's done for aye," 
And turn'd her tail to Geordie. 

The sow's tail is till him yet, &c. 

vVhen contrasting her with another mistress of George's, he says, 
" Lady Darlington, whom I saw at my mother's in my infancy, and 
whom I remember by being terrified at her enormous figure, was as 
corpulent and ample, as the Duchess was long and emaciated. Two 
fierce black eyes, large and rolling beneath two lofty arched eye- 
brows; two acres of cheeks spread with crimson; an ocean of neck 
and bosom, that overflowed, and was not distinguished from the 
lower part of her body, and no part restrained by stays." Such was 
the form of her who figures as the Sow whose tail ?ras turn'd to 



Ye Whigs are a rebellious crew, 

The plague of this poor nation ; 
Ye give not God nor Csesar due j 

Ye smell of reprobation. 
Ye are a stubborn perverse pack, 

Conceiv'd and nurs'd by treason ; 
Your practices are foid and black, 

Your principles 'gainst reason. 

Your Hogan Moganf foreign things, 

God gave them in displeasure ; 
Ye brought them o'er, and call'd them kings ; 

They've drain'd our blood and treasure. 
Can ye compare your king to mine, 

Your Geordie and your Willie ? 
Comparisons are odious, 

A toadstool to a lily. 

Our Darien can witness bear, 

And so can our Glenco, sir ; 
Our South Sea it can make appear, 

What to your kings we owe, sir. 
We have been murder'd, starv'd, and robb'd, 

By those your kings and knav'ry, 
And all our treasure is stock-jobb'd, 

While we groan under slav'ry. 

Geordie. The air of this song has always been popular, and has afforded 
infinite scope for variations by the delighted masters of the fiddle- 

* This is a general satire levelled at the political discrimination of 
the whigs, and a particular one, in so far as it applies to the princes 
whom they supported on the throne, or those whom it styles, the 
Hogan Mogan foreign things. 

f Cant terms for the Dutch words Hough Magedige, signifying high 
and mighty. 


Did e'er the rightful Stuarts' race 

(Declare it, if you can, sir,) 
Reduce you to so bad a case ? 

Hold up your face, and answer. 
Did he whom ye expell'd the throne, 

Your islands e'er harass so, 
As these whom ye have plac'd thereon, 

Your Brunswick and your Nassau? 

By strangers we are robb'd and shamm'd, 

This you must plainly grant, sir, 
Whose coffers with our wealth are cramm'd, 

While we must starve for want, sir. 
Can ye compare your kings to mine, 

Your Geordie and your Willie ? 
Comparisons are odious, 

A bramble to a lily. 

Your prince's mother did amiss,* 

This ye have ne'er denied, sir, 
Or why liv'd she without a kiss, 

Confin'd until she died, sir ? 
Can ye compare your queen to mine ? 

I know ye're not so silly : 
Comparisons are odious, 

A dockan to a lily. 

* George I. while electoral prince, married his cousin Dorothea, 
only child of the Duke of Zell. She was very beautiful, but her 
husband treated her with neglect, and had several mistresses. This 
usage seems to have disposed her to retaliate, by indulging in a lit- 
tle external gallantry. The celebrated Swedish Count Koningsmark 
being at that period at Hanover, became the unfortunate object of heT 
coquetry ; and, although no criminal intercourse is said to have really 
existed between them, he was privately assassinated, and Dorothea 
suffered imprisonment during the remainder of her life. When George 
II. first visited Hanover, he ordered some alterations in the palace, 
and while repairing the dressing-room which belonged to his mother, 
the Princess Dorothea, the body of Koningsmark was discovered un- 
der the pavement, where he is supposed to have been strangled and 


Her son is a poor matchless sot, 

His own papa ne'er lov'd him ; 
And Feckie* is an idiot, 

As they can swear who prov'd him. 
Can ye compare your prince to mine, 

A thing so dull and silly ? 
Comparisons are odious, 

A mushroom to a lily. 

the cuckoo, f 

The cuckoo's a bonny bird, when he comes 

home, [home, 

The cuckoo's a bonny bird, when he comes 
He'll fley away the wild birds that hank about 

the throne, 
My bonny cuckoo, when he comes home. 
The cuckoo's the bonny bird, and he'll hae the 

day; [may say; 

The cuckoo's the royal bird, whatever they 
Wi' the whistle o' his mou', and the blink o' 

his e'e, 
He'll scare a' the unco birds away frae me. 

The cuckoo's a bonny bird, when he comes 
home, [home, 

The cuckoo's a bonny bird, when he comes 

He 11 fley away the wild birds that hank about 
the throne, 

My bonny cuckoo, when he comes home. 

* Frederick, Prince of Wales, father of George in. 

f This song was first printed in Hogg's Relics. The Shepherd says 
he had never before seen it either in print or manuscript ; but it must 
have been a great favourite in the last age ; for about the time when 
he began first to know one song from another, all the old people that 
could sing at all, sung The Cuckoo's a bonvy Bird. 


The cuckoo's a bonny bird, but far frae his 
hame ; [kame ; 

I ken him by the feathers that grow upon his 

And round that double kame yet a crown I 
hope to see, 

For my bonny cuckoo he is dear to me. 


Britons, now retrieve your glory, 

And your ancient rights maintain ; 
Drive th' usurping race before you, 

And restore a Stuart's reign. 
Load the Brunswick prancer double, 
Heap on all your care and trouble, 
Drive him hence, with all his rabble, 
Never to return again. 

Call your injur'd king to save you, 
Ere you farther are oppress'd; 

He's so good, he will forgive you, 
And receive you to his breast. 

Think on all the wrongs you've done him, 

Bow your rebel necks, and own him ; 

Quickly make amends, and crown him, 
Or you never can be blest. 


Of all the days that's in the year, 
The tenth of June* I love most dear, 
When our white roses will appear, 
For sake of Jamie the Rover. 

* It would appear from this song, that the Chevalier's birth-day 


In tartans braw our lads are drest, 
With roses glancing on their breast ; 
For arnang them a' we love lnm best, 
Young Jamie they call the Rover. 

As I came in by Auehindown, 

The drums did beat, and trumpets sound, 

And aye the burden o' the tune 

Was, Up wi' Jamie the Rover ! 
There's some wha say he's no the thing, 
And some wha say he's no our king ; 
But to their teeth we'll rant and sing, 

Success to Jamie the Rover ! 

In London there's a huge black bull, 
That would devour us at his will ; 
We'll twist bis horns out of his skull, 

And drive the old rogue to Hanover. 
And hey as he'll rout, and hey as he'll roar, 
And hey as he'll gloom, as heretofore ! 
But we'll repay our auld black score, 

When we get Jamie the Rover. 

O wae's my heart for Nature's change, 
And ane abroad that's forc'd to range ! 
God bless the lad, where'er he remains, 

And send him safely over ! 
It's J. and S., I must confess, 
Stands for his name that I do bless : 
O may he soon his own possess, 

Young Jamie they call the Rover ! 

had been celebrated by the Northern Jacobites at Auehindown, 10th 
June, 1714; and that, during the festival, they swore fealty to the 
house of Stuart. Auehindown, noticed in so many of our Jacobite 
songs, from the " Huughs o' Cromdale," downwards, is now a ruin. It 
was not properly a " town," but a romantic castle situated in the 
wilds of Glen Fiddich, in Banffshire. 



The auld Stuarts back again, 
The auld Stuarts back again ; 
Let howlet Whigs do what they can, 

The Stuarts will be back again. 
Wha cares for a' their creeshy duds, 
And a' Kilmarnock sowen suds ? 
We'll wauk their hydes and fyle their fuds, 

And bring the Stuarts back again. 

There's Ayr and Irvine, wi' the rest. 
And a' the cronies i' the west, 
Lord ! sic a scaw'd and scabbit nest, 

How they'll set up their crack again ! 
But wad they come, or dare they come, 
Afore the bagpipe and the drum, 
We'll either gar them a' sing dumb, 

Or " Auld Stuarts back again." 

Give ear unto my loyal sang, 

A' ye that ken the right frae rang, 

And a' that look and think it lang 

For auld Stuarts back again. 
Were ye wi' me to chace the rae, 
Out-owre the hills and far away, 
And saw the Lords were there that day, 

To bring the Stuarts back again. 

* The towns of Ayr, Troon, and Kilmarnock, and other towns in 
the west, were very active in raising men in defence of the Protestant 
succession at the rebellion in 1715. This song seems to have been 
written in splenetic anger at their zeal on the occasion by a Jacobite. 
The latter part of the song refers to the famous Hunting in the forest 
of Brae-Mar, contrived by the Earl of Mar as a pretence for bringing 
the nobles both of the South and the North together, to concert mea- 
sures for the rising which immediately afterwards took place. 


There ye might see the noble Mar, 
Wi' Athol, Huntly, and Traquair, 
Seaforth, Kilsyth, and Auldubair, 

And money mae, whatreck, again. 
Then what are a' their westland crews ? 
We'll gar the tailors teck again : 
Can they forestand the tartan trews, 

And auld Stuarts back again ? 


At Auchindown, the tenth of June, 

Sae merry, blythe, and gay, sir, 
Each lad and lass did fill a glass, 

And drink a health that day, sir. 
We drank a health, and no by stealth, 

'Mang kimmers bright and lordly : 
" King James the Eighth ! for him we'll fight, 

And down wi' cuckold Geordie !" 

We took a spring, and danc'd a fling, 

A wow but we were vogie ! 
We didna fear, though we lay near 

The Campbells, in Stra'bogie : 
Nor yet the loons, the black dragoons, 

At Fochabers a-raising : 
If they durst come, we'd pack them home, 

And send them to their grazing. 

We fear'd no harm, and no alarm, 
No word was spoke of dangers j 

* This is another production of Norland Jacobitism, commemora- 
tive of the festival held at Auchindown, on the Chevalier de St. 
George's birthday, 10th June, 1714. It is usually sung to the cele- 
brated old tune of Cauld Kail in Aberdeen. 


We join'd the dance, and kiss'd the lance, 

And swore us foes to strangers, 
To ilka name that dar'd disclaim, 

Our Jamie and his Charlie. 
" King James the Eighth ! for him we'll fight, 

" And down the cuckold carlie !" 


As I came by Lochmaben gate, 

It's there I saw the Johnstons riding ; 
Away they go, and they fear'd no foe, 

With their drums a-beating, colours flying. 
All the lads of Annandale 

Came there, their gallant chief to follow ; 
Brave Burleigh, Ford, and Ramerscale, 

With Winton and the gallant Rollo. 

* This song is commemorative of Southland Jacobitism, and refevs 
to a celebrated meeting of the Border Partizans of the house of Stuart, 
■which took place at Lochmaben in Dumfries-shire, on 29th May, 
1714, to ascertain their strength, and to concert measures in aid of 
the insurrection which was then in contemplation by the Earl of 
Mar and others In the north, and which took place the following 
year. The meeting was held under the pretence of horse-racing ; 
but the parties were at no pains to disguise the real object of it. Two 
plates, which were the prizes to be run for, had peculiar devices. The 
one had a woman with balances in her hand, the emblem of Justice, 
and over the head was " Justitia," and at a little distance, " Suum 
cuiqw." The other had several men in a tumbling posture, and one 
eminent person erected above the rest, with this inscription from 
Scripture, Ezekiel xxi. 27, " I will overturn, overturn, overturn it • and 
it shall be no more, until he come whose right it is, and I will give it him." 
After the race, the leaders, and many more of the Jacobite gentry, 
such as the Maxwells of Tinwald, Johnston of Wamphray, Carruthers 
of Ramerscales, the Master of Burleigh, went to the cross, and in pre- 
sence of hundreds, with drums beating and colours flying, drank their 
King's health upon their knees. Such was the fury of their zeal, if 
any one refused to drink the toast, he was d — d to hell by the Master 
of Burleigh. This precious partizan had only a few weeks before 
made his escape from Edinburgh Jail, where he had been lying 
under sentence of death for murder. 


I ask'd a man what meant the fray ? 

" Good sir," said he, " you seem a stranger : 
This is the twenty-ninth of May ; 

Far better had you shun the danger. 
These are rebels to the throne, 

Reason have we all to know it ; 
Popish knaves and dogs each one, 

Pray pass on, or you shall rue it." 

I look'd the traitor in the face, 

Drew out my brand and ettled at him : 
" Deil send a' the whiggish race 

Downward to the dad that gat 'em !" 
Right sair he gloom'd, but naething said, 

While my heart was like to scunner, 
Cowards are they born and bred, 

Rka whinging, praying sinner. 

My bonnet on my sword I bare, 

And fast I spurr'd by knight and lady, 
And thrice I wav'd it in the air, 

Where a' our lads stood rank'd and ready. 
" Long live King James !" aloud I cried, 

" Our nation's king, our nation's glory !" 
" Long live King James !" they all replied, 

" Welcome, welcome, gallant Tory !" 

There I shook hands wi' lord and knight, 

And mony a braw and buskin'd lady : 
But lang I'll mind Lochmaben gate, 

And a' our lads for battle ready. 
And when I gang by Locher Brigs, 

And o'er the moor, at e'en or morrow, 
I'll lend a curse unto the Whigs, 

That wrought us a' this dool and sorrow. 



When I left thee, bonny Scotland, 

O thou wert fair to see ! 
Fresh as a bonny bride in the morn, 

When she maun wedded be. 
When I came back to thee Scotland, 

Upon a May morn fair, 
A bonny lass sat at our town end, 

Kaming her yellow hair. 

' Oh hey ! oh hey!' sung the bonny lass, 

' Oh hey ! and wae is me ! 
There's siccan sorrow in Scotland, 

As een did never see. 
Oh hey ! oh hey ! for my father auld ! 

Oh hey ! for my mither dear ! 
And my heart will burst for the bonny lad 

Wha left me lanesome here.' 

I had gane in my ain Scotland 

Mae miles than twa or three, 
When I saw the head o' my ain father 

Coming up the gate to me. 
' A traitor's head !' and ' a traitor's head !' 

Loud bawl'd a bloody loon ; 
But I drew frae the sheath my glave o' weir, 

And strack the reaver down. 

I hied me hame to my father's ha', 
My dear auld mither to see ; 

* This song is evidently modern, but the subject relates to the 
early Jacobite Times, and is beautifully handled. It is believed to 
be a production of that delightful master of the Scottish Lyre, Allan 
Cunningham. The air is the well-known one of the Siller Crown. 


But she lay 'mang the black eizels, 

Wi' the death-tear in her e'e. 
' O wha has wrought this bloody wark? 

Had I the reaver here, 
I'd wash his sark in his ain heart's blood, 

And gie't to his dame to wear.' 

I hadna gane frae my ain dear hame 

But twa short miles and three, 
Till up came a captain o' the Whigs 

Says, ' Traitor, bide ye me !' 
I grippit him by the belt sae braid, 

It birsted i' my hand, 
But I threw him frae his weir-saddle, 

And drew my burlie brand. 

' Shaw mercy on me !' quo' the loon, 

And low he knelt on knee : 
But by his thigh was my father's glaive 

Whilk gude King Bruce did gie ; 
And buckled round him was the broider'd belt 

Whilk my mither's hands did weave. 
My tears they mingled wi' his heart's blood, 

And reek'd upon my glaive. 

I wander a' night 'mang the lands I own'd, 

When a' folk are asleep, 
And I lie o'er my father and mither's grave 

An hour or twa to weep. 
O, fatherless and mitherless, 

Without a ha' or hame, 
I maun wander through dear Scotland, 

And bide a traitor's blame. 



When we think on the days of auld, 
When our Scots lads were true as bauld, 
O weel may we weep for our foul fa', 
And grieve for the lad that's far awa ! 

Over the seas and far awa, 

Over the seas and far awa, 
O weel may we maen for the day that's gane, 

And the lad that's banish'd far awa. 

Some traitor lords, for love o' gain, 
They drove our true king owre the main, 
In spite o' right, and rule, and law, 
And the friends o' him that's far awa. 
Over the seas and far awa, &c. 

A bloody rook frae Brunswick flew, 
And gather'd devil's birds anew ; 
Wi' kingmen's blude they gorge their maw ; 
O dule to the louns sent Jamie awa' ! 
Over the seas and far awa, &c. 

And cruel England, leal men's dread, 
Doth hunt and cry for Scottish blude, 
To hack, and head, and hang, and draw, 
And a' for the lad that's far awa. 

Over the seas and far awa, &c. 

* The absence of the exiled family was always a favourite theme 
with the Jacobites for the exercise of the muse. The songs which 
were based upon that topic, had usually more popularity than any 
others, and remained much longer in vogue. Hence, the above 
specimen, though not very choice in respect of the poetry, was al- 
ways popular for its subject, and it really does breathe the true spirit 
of ultra loyalty. The Whigs, who are designated as " devil's birds," 
would have scarcely had Jeddart justice from the vengeance of the 
writer of this Song, or those who held the same political opinions. 


There's a reade in heaven, I read it true, 
There's vengeance for us on a' that crew, 
There's blude for blude to ane and a', 
That sent our bonnie lad far awa. 

Over the seas and far awa, 

Over the seas and far awa, 
He'll soon be here that I loe dear, 

And he's welcome hame frae far awa ! 


Let our great James come over, 

And baffle Prince Hanover, 
With hearts and hands, in loyal bands, 

We'll welcome him at Dover. 

Of royal birth and breeding, 

In ev'ry grace exceeding, 
Our hearts will mourn till his return, 

O'er lands that lie a-bleeding. 

Let each man, in his station, 
Fight bravely for the nation ; 
Then may our king long live and reign, 
In spite of abjuration. f 

* Though this Song is not without merit, it is so general in its 
application as to afford no ground for remark. One thing may be 
inferred, however, from the last verse — which is, that if the Jaco- 
bites had got their own way, they would have made sad work among 
the Whigs. Hanging would have been thought by far too gentle 
a punishment for them. 

f The Act of Abjuration here referred to, was passed by the par- 
liament of King William, in 1701. By this Act, all persons holding 
situations in church or state, were compelled, by oath, to abjure the 
pretended Prince of Wales (James Il's son) ; to recognise William as 
their " right and lawful King, and his heirs, according to the Act of 
Settlement :" they also became bound to maintain the Established 
Church of England, at the same time tolerating dissenters. 


He only can relieve us 
From every thing that grieves us : 
Our church is rent, our treasure spent j 
He only can reprieve us. 

Too long he's been excluded, 
Too long we've been deluded : 

Let's with one voice sing and rejoice ; 
The peace is now concluded. 
The Dutch are disappointed, 
Their whiggish plots disjointed; 

The sun displays his glorious rays, 
To crown the Lord's anointed. 

Away with Prince Hanover ! 

We'll have no Prince Hanover ! 
King James the Eighth has the true right, 

And he is coming over. 

Since royal James is coming, 

Then let us all be moving, 
With heart and hand at his command, 

To set the Whigs a-running. 

Let not the abjuration 

Impose upon our nation, 
Restrict our hands, whilst he commands, 

Through false imagination : 

For oaths which are imposed 

Can never be supposed 
To bind a man, say what they can, 

When justice is opposed. 

The parliament's gone over, 
The parliament's gone over, 
And all the Whigs have run their rigs, 
And brought home Prince Hanover. 


And now that lie's come over, 
O what will ye discover, 
When in a rope we'll hang him up ? 
And so farewell, Hanover. 

But whom will ye have over? 

But whom will ye have over ? 
King James the Eighth, with all our might, 

And land him in our border. 

And when that he's come over, 

O what will ye discover, 
But Whigs in ropes high hanging up, 

For siding with Hanover ? 


Weel may we a' be, 
111 may we never see, 
Here's to the king, 

And this good company ! 
Fill rill your glasses high, 
We'll drain our barrels dry ; 
Out upon them, fie ! fie ! 
That winna do't again. 

Here's to the king, boys ! 
Ye ken wha I mean, boys ! 
And every honest man, boys, 
That will do't again ! 

Fill fill your glasses high, &c. 

* The compliment paid the King of Sweden in this drinking song, 
must have been owing to the preparations which that monarch was 
then making to assist James to recover the throne of Britain. George 
I. had provoked the wrath of Charles by entering into a league with 
some of the continental powers. The death of the Swede soon after, 
put a stop to his plans, and relieved the apprehensions of the English 
Court at the same time. 



Here's to a' the chieftains 
Of the gallant Scottish clans, 
They hae done it mair than ance, 
And they'll do't again. 

Fill fill your glasses high, &c. 

When the pipes began to strum 
Tuttie tattie to the drum, 
Out claymore, and down the gun, 
And to the knaves again. 

Fill fill your glasses high, &c. 

Here's to the royal Swede, 
Fresh laurels crown his head ! 
Pox on every sneaking blade 
That winna do't again ! 

Fill fill your glasses high, &c. 

But to make a' things right now, 
He that drinks maun fight too, 
To show his heart's upright too, 
And that he'll do't again. 

Fill fill your glasses high, &c. 


It's Hanover, Hanover, fast as you can over, 
Hey gudeman, away gudeman ; 

* This wild rant is obviously a satire on some of the irregularities 
of the Court of George I. His two German mistresses, Madame 
Schulemberg, Duchess of Kendal, and Madam Kilmansegge, Countess 
of Platen, afterwards Countess of Darlington, are referred to under 
the appellations of Kenny and Killy. The one was lean and haggard, 
and the olher monstrously fat; but George was as little constant to 
them as to his wife. Madame Kilmansegge had a daughter to him, 
who was married to Lord Viscount Howe. Feddy and Robin in this 
song, mean Frederick, Prince of Wales, and Sir Robert Walpole. 


It's Hanover, Hanover, fast as you can over, 

Bide na here till day gudeman. 
For there is a harper down i' the north, 
Has play'd a spring on the banks o' Forth, 
And aye the owre-word o' the tune 
Is, Away gudeman, away gudeman. 
It's Hanover, Hanover, &c. 

It's Feddy maun strap, and Robin maun 

And Killy may wince, and fldge, and fling, 
For Kenny has loos'd her petticoat string, 
Gae tie 't again, gae tie 't again. 
It's Hanover, Hanover, &c 

O Kenny my kitten, come draw your mitten, 
And dinna be lang, and dinna be lang ; 

For petticoat's loose, and barrie is slitten, 
And a's gane wrang, and a's gane wrang. 
It's Hanover, Hanover, &c. 


O what's the matter wi' the Whigs ? 

I think they're all gone mad, sir ; 
By dancing one-and-forty jigs, 

Our dancing may be bad, sir. 

* This Song must have been written on the accession of the Whigs 
to power in the beginning of George I.'s reign, since it is equally caus- 
tic as to that party and the monarch himself. The indiscretion of 
his Queen, the Princess Dorothea of Zell, with regard to Count Ko- 
ningsmark, is severely alluded to. But, in truth, that story owed its 
currency rather to the jealousy of the King than to any real guilt on 
the part of the Princess. The ground of George's suspicions, and the 
severe revenge he took, by destroying the Count, as noticed in a pre- 
ceding note, are thus related by Horace Walpole. " Dorothea was the 
only child of the Duke of Zell, and cousin to George I. who married 
iier from convenience, and with a view to reunite the dominions of 


The revolution principles 

Have set their head in bees, then ; 

They've fallen out among themselves, 
Shame fa' the first that grees them E 

Did ye not swear, in Anna's reign, 
And vow, too, and protest, sir, 

If Hanover were once come o'er, 
Then we should all be blest, sir ? 

Since you got leave to rule the roast, 
Impeachments throve a while, sir : 

Our lords must steer to other coasts, 
Our lairds may leave the isle, sir. 

Now Britain may rejoice and sing, 

' Tis now a happy nation, 
Governed by a German thing, 

Our sovereign by creation. 

the family. Though she was very handsome, the Prince, who was 
extremely amorous, had several mistresses; which provocation, and 
his absence in the army of the confederates, probably disposed the 
Princess to indulge some degree of coquetry. At that moment ar- 
rived at Hanover the famous and beautiful Count Koningsmark, the 
charms of whose person ought not to have obliterated the memory 
of his vile assassination of Mr Thynne. His vanity, the beauty of the 
electoral Princess, and the neglect under which he found her, en- 
couraged his presumption to make his addresses to her, not covertly; 
and she, though believed not to have transgressed her duty, did re- 
ceive them too indiscreetly. The old Elector flamed at the insolence 
of so stigmatised a pretender, and ordered him to quit his dominions 
at a day's warning. The Princess, surrounded by women too closely 
connected with her husband, and consequently enemies to the lady 
they injured, was persuaded by them to suffer the Count to kiss her 
hand before his abrupt departure ; and he was actually introduced by 
them into her bed-chamber the next morning before she rose. From 
that moment he disappeared ; nor was it known what became of him, 
till on the death of George I., when his son, the new King, went over 
to Hanover, and some alterations on the Palace being ordered by him, 
the body of Koningsmark was discovered under the floor of the elec- 
toral Princess's dressing room. It is probable that the Count was 
strangled, and his body secreted there the instant he left her. The 


And whensoe'er this sovereign fails, 

And pops into the dark, sir, 
O then we have a prince of Wales, 

The brat of Konigsmark, sir. 

Our king he has a cuckold's luck, 

His praises we will sing, sir, 
For from a petty German duke, 

He's now become a king, sir. 

He was brought o'er to rule the greese, 
But, faith, the truth I'll tell, sir ; 

"When he takes on his good dame's gees, 
He canna ride himsel', sir. 

And was there ever such a king 
As our brave German prince, sir ? 

Our wealth supplies him every thing, 
Save that he wants — good sense, sir. 

Whilst foreigners traverse our isle, 
And drag our peers to slaughter, 

This makes our gracious king to smile, 
Our prince bursts out in laughter. 

Our jails with British subjects cramm'd, 
Our scaffolds reek with blood, sir ; 

And all but Whigs and Dutch are damn'd 
By the fanatic crowd, sir. 

Come, let us sing our monarch's praise, 
And drink his health in wine, sir ; 

For now we have braw happy days, 
Like those of forty-nine, sir. 

Princess was never after admitted even to the nominal honours of her 
rank, being thenceforward always styled Duchess of Halle." 



Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry ; 
Donald comes down the hill wild and angry ; 
Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly. 
Here's to the king and Donald Macgillavry. 
Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry, 
Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry ; 
Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly : 
Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry. 

Donald's run o'er the hill but his tether, man, 
As he were wud, or stung wi' an ether, man ; 
When he comes back, there are some will look 

merrily : 
Here's to King James, and Donald Macgillavry. 
Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, 
Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, 
Pack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly : 
Gie him full measure, my Donald Macgillavry. 

Donald has foughten wi' rief and roguery ; 
Donald has dinner'd wi' banes and beggary : 
Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery 
Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry. 
Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, 
Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry ; 
Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly. 
Here's to King James, and Donald Macgillavry ! 

* There is unrivalled spirit in this Song, and it must have had a 
wonderful effect on the popular feeling in Jacobite times. It is un- 
certain who was intended as the hero of it, as the name of Donald 
M'Gillavry occurs in many of the Ballads, both of 1715 and 1745.— 
Perhaps it was indiscriminately used to signify the whole of the Scot- 
tish Clans. This is the Ettrick Shepherd 's idea, and it is a plausible 
one; for, in using Donald M'Gillavry as a comical patronymick for 
the Highlanders in general, no offence could be given to any one, nor 
could it render any particular Clan obnoxious to the other party, by 


Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness ; 
Whigging, and prigging, and a' newfangleness, 
They maun be gane : he winna be baukit, man ; 
He maun hae justice, or faith he'll tak' it, man. 
Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry, 
Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry; 
Beat them, and bore them, and lingel them 

Up wi' King James, and Donald Macgillavry ! 

Dnnald was mumpit wi' mirds and mockery ; 
Donald was blinded wi' blads o' property ; 
Aries ran high, but makings were naething, man °. 
Lord, how Donald is flyting and fretting, man ! 
Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry, 
Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry, 
Skelp them and scaud them that prov'd sae 

Up wi' King James, and Donald Macgillavry ! 


Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Jock an' Tarn an' a's coming. 

the Song being sung in mixed assemblies. It is more than probable, 
however, that the person alluded to in this Song, was M'Gillavry of 
Drumglass, whose name appears in the Chevalier's Muster Roll, and 
who was attached to the army of the Earl of Mar, then in the High- 

* On the accession of George I. in 1714, the dismissal of the Tory 
Ministry, and the rancour with which its members were prosecuted, 
greatly increased the number of the disaffected. The Earl of Mar, 
who had held the office of Secretary of State during the late admi- 
nistration, finding himself neglected by the government, threw him- 
self into the arms of the Jacobites, and being a nobleman of talent and 
experience, he soon became the head of that faction. On his arrival at 


Duncan's coming, Donald's coming, 
Colin's coming, Ronald's coming, 
Dougal's coming, Lauchlan's coming, 
Alaster and a's coming. 

Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Jock an' Tarn an' a's coming. 

Borland and his men's coming, 
Cameron and M' Leans' coming, 
Gordon and M'Gregors' coming, 
Alka Dunywastle's * coming, 
Little wat ye wha's coming, 
M'Gillavry and a's coming. 

Wigton's coming, Nithsdale's coming, 
Carnwarth's coming, Kenmure's coming, 
Derwentwaterf and Foster's { coming, 
Withrington § and Nairn's || coming. 
Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Blythe Cowhill and a's coming. 

his seat in Kildrummy in Aberdeenshire, in August, 1715, a number 
of the noblemen and gentlemen of that party repaired thither, among 
whom were the Marquises of Huntly and Tullibardin ; the Earls of 
Marishall, Nithsdale, Traquair, Errol, Southesk, Carnwath, Seaforth, 
and Linlithgow ; the Viscounts Kilsyth, Kenmure, Kingston, and 
Stormont ; the Lords Rollo, Duffus, and Drummond ; and many 
gentlemen of great interest, whose names are enumerated in the 
poem. They there resolved on setting up the Chevalier's standard, 
and to support his claims to the crown, with all their vassals ; 
accordingly, early in September, they proclaimed him in all the prin- 
cipal towns between Perth and Inverness, establishing their head- 
quarters at the former place. 

* Dhain vailse, i. e. Highland lairds or gentlemen. 

t Earl Derwentwater, a nobleman universally esteemed. He was 
taken prisoner at Preston, tried, and beheaded on Tower-hill, along 
with Viscount Kenmure. 

± Thomas Forster, junior, of Etherston, Member of Parliament for 
Northumberland, was commander of the rebel English army. He 
was taken prisoner at Preston, but made his escape to the continent. 

} The Earl of Widdrington. 

iJ The Lord Nairn, brother to the Duke of Athole. He was also 


The Laird of M'Intosh is coming, 
M'Crabie an' M'Donald's coming, 
M'Kenzie and M'Pherson's coming, 
And the wild M' Craw's coming. 
Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Donald Gun and a's coming. 

They gloom, they glour, they look sae big, 
At ilka stroke they'll fell a Whig : 
They'll fright the fuds o' the Pockpuds, * 
For mony a buttock bare's coming. 
Little wat ye wha's coming, 
Jock and Tam and a's coming. 


There's some say that we wan, 

Some say that they wan, 
Some say that nane wan at a', man ; 

But one thing I'm sure, 

That at Sherra-muir, 
A battle there was, that I saw, man ; 

And we ran, and they ran, 
And they ran, and we ran, 
But Florence ran fastest of a', man. 

taken prisoner at Preston, tried, and condemned, but afterwards 
liberated by virtue of the act of indemnity in 1717. 

* A name of derision given to the English, from their attachment 
to the bag-pudding. 

f When it was known in London that the Earl of Mar had erected 
the standard of rebellion, government instantly dispatched the Duke 
of Argyle to Scotland, as commander-in-chief, to draw the military 
force of the kingdom together, and to take other measures to coun- 
teract the efforts of the disaffected. This was no easy task, how- 
ever; for a great portion of the nobility and gentry had already 
joined Mar, or secretly abetted him, and the muster of the clans by 
this time amounted to several thousand men ; while, on the other 
hand, the whole of the regular military did not exceed fifteen hun- 


Argyle and Belhaven, 

Not frighted like Leven, 
Which Rothes and Haddington saw, man ; 

For they all, with Wightman, 

Advanc'd on the right, man, 
While others took flight, being raw, man ; 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

died horse and foot. The Duke's personal interests in this case were 
perhaps the saving of the existing government. The clans were, for 
the most part, his mortal enemies, and he knew that if Mar's en- 
terprise succeeded, it would be the ruin of the House of Argyle. He 
was therefore prompted to make every effort to meet so pressing an 
emergency, and, accordingly, soon increased the national force to 
5500 men, which he concentrated at Stirling. This, to be sure, was 
little more than a third of the rebel forces; but the Duke was of 
undaunted courage and resolution, and when he understood that 
Mar was on his march to penetrate into the south, he quitted Stir- 
ling, and led his small army north to attack him. On the 12th of 
November, his Grace encamped at Dumblain. The rebels approached 
that night within two miles of him. Both armies drew up in order 
of battle, and remained under arms till day-break. In the morn- 
ing, after mutually reconnoitering each other's position, the action 
began. The Duke of Argyle placed himself on the right, at the head 
of the cavalry ; General Whitham commanded the left ; and Major- 
General Wightman the centre. The Karl of Mar led on the clans 
under the Captain of Clanronald, Glengary, Sir John M'Lean, and 
Campbell of Glenlyon, who made such a furious charge on the left 
wing of the royal army, " that in seven or eight minutes," says an 
account of the engagement, published shortly after at Perth, under 
the authority of the Earl of Mar, " we could neither perceive the 
form of a battalion or squadron of the enemy before us." The High- 
landers on the left were not so successful. The Duke of Argyle 
charged them with such vigour at the head of the cavalry, that they 
were obliged to retire, which they did in the greatest order, rallying 
ten times in the space of two miles. Having, however, succeeded in 
pushing them across the water of Allan, he returned to the field, 
where, being joined by General Wightman with three battalions of 
foot, he took possession of some mud-walls and inclosures to cover 
himself from the threatened attack of the enemy's right wing, which, 
on hearing of the defeat of their left, stopt the pursuit, and came up 
to its support ; but either through jealousy that the left had not done 
its duty, or awed by the imposing front which Argyle's troops pre- 
sented, the Highlanders did not renew the action. Both armies 
fronted each other till the evening, when the Duke retired to Dum- 
blain, and the Earl of Mar to Ardoch. The carnage on both sides 
was nearly equal ; about eight hundred of the rebels were killed and 
wounded, while the loss of the royal army was upwards of six hun- 
dred. The victory was claimed by both parties, from the circum- 


Lord Roxburgh, was there, 

In order to share 
With Douglas, who stood not in awe, man ; 

Volunteerly to ramble 

With Lord Loudoun Campbell, 
Brave Ray did suffer for a', man ; 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Sir John Schaw, that great knight, 

With broad-sword most bright, 
On horseback he briskly did charge, man ; 

A hero that's bold, 

None could him withhold, 
He stoutly encounter'd the targemen : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

stance of the right wing of each army being victorious ; but all the 
advantages remained with the Duke of Argyle, who not only returned 
to the field next day and carried off the wounded to Stirling, but by 
this action arrested the progress of the enemy to the southward, and 
destroyed their hopes of success by the delay which it occasioned. 

Argyle — John Campbell, second Duke of Argyle — much respected 
by all parties, both for his talents and his integrity. He died in 1743. 

Belhaven — John Hamilton, Lord Belhaven, served as a volunteer 
with Argyle. 

Levcn — David Leslie, Earl of Leven, fought for the government. 

Rothes — John Leslie, Earl of Rothes, commanded the Government 
Horse Volunteers. 

Haddington — Thomas Hamilton, Earl of Haddington, served as a 
volunteer for Government. 

Wightman — Joseph Wightman, Major-General in the service of 

Roxburgh — John Ker, fifth Duke of Roxburgh, a volunteer for 

Douglas — Archibald Douglas, Duke of Douglas, had levied and 
disciplined his Clydesdale tenantry for Government, and served with 
them as a volunteer. 

Loudoun — Hugh Campbell, third Earl of Loudoun, fought for the 

Islay — Archibald Earl of Islay, brother to Argyle, was danger- 
ously wounded. He joined the army only half an hour before the 
battle began. 

Sir John Skarv of Greenock, an officer in the Government troop 
of Gentleman Volunteers. This troop consisted of noblemen and 


For the cowardly Whittam, 

For fear they should cut him, 
Seeing glittering broad-swords with a pa', man, 

And that in such thrang, 

Made Baird edicang, 
And from the brave clans ran awa, man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

The great Colonel Dow 

Gade foremost, I trow 
When Whittam's dragoons ran awa, man : 

Except Sandy Baird, 

And Naughtan the laird, 
Their horse shaw'd their heels to them a', man <. 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Brave Mar and Panmure 

Were firm, I am sure, 
The latter was kidnapt awa, man, 

With brisk men about, 

Brave Harry retook 
His brother, and laugh'd at them a', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

gentlemen of distinction, and it was said of them that they showed 
their quality by the gallantry of their conduct. 

Whittam — .Major-General Whitham, who commanded the left wing 
of Argyle's army. 

Mar — John Erskine, Earl of Mar, Commander-in-Chief of the rebel 
army, was a man of spirit, ambition, and enterprise ; but he has been 
accused of being little fitted to lead a host of Highlanders, in conse- 
quence of the rapidity of his measures not having kept pace with the 
ardour of their zeal. He has also been described, not over courteously, 
by a contemporary, as " another Richard the third, deformed in his 
person, and possessed of ambition and an entriguing genius beyond any 
man living; altogether a time-serving, self-interested person,who could 
at any time be bought and sold. Of this the court was well aware, 
but unhappily neglected to secure him to its interests. He had a 
most happy talent of gilding over his own interested designs with a 
specious appearance of zeal for the public good ; and during the 
whole of his political career, it was observed that he could deceive 


Brave Marshall, and Lithgow, 

And Glengary's pith too, 
Assisted by brave Loggia, man, 

And Gordons the bright, 

So boldly did fight, 
That the red-coats took flight and awa', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Strathmore and Clanronald, 
Cry'd still, ' Advance Donald,' 

any man or any party with regard to his real intent and motives. He 
died at Aix-Ia-Chapelle in 1732." 

Panmure — James Maule, Earl of Panmure. 

Harry — The Honourable Harry Maule of Kellie, brother to the 
Eail, -whom he rescued at a village, where he had been left sttipt 
and wounded after being taken prisoner. 

Marshall — .George Keith, tenth Earl Marischal, was cousin to Mar, 
and had been deprived of his command in the Scottish troop of Horse 
Grenadier Guards at the same time that the former had been dis- 
missed as a Secretary of State. He had accordingly come home in 
August, and along with his brother James, afterwards the celebrated 
Marshall Keith, on this occasion joined the rebel standard. 

Lithgom — James Livingston, Earl of Calendar and Linlithgow, 

Glengary — Alexander Macdonell, a Highland Chief of high spirit 
and great bravery. 

Loggia, man — That is to say, Thomas Drummond of Logie Al- 
mond. He commanded the Drummonds, and was wounded in the 

Gordons — Alexander Gordon, Marquis of Huntly, afterwards second 
Duke of Gordon. He joined Mar at Perth with a large body of horse 
and foot ; but they were of all names and descriptions, the Gordons 
not being a distinctive clan of themselves, in consequence of being 
originally sprung from a border family. 

Strathmore — John Lyon, fifth Earl of Strathmore and Kinghorn, a 
man of good parts and of most amiable disposition and character, 
was killed in this battle. 

Clan-Ronald — .Ronald Macdonald, captain of Clan-Ronald, was 
killed at the very first fire. He was a youth of good parts and ac- 
complishments, much esteemed and admired by all who knew him, 
and his death was like to have struck a damp upon the Clans, who 
had a respect for him little short of adoration. But Glengary, who 
succeeded him, as leader-in-chief, started out from the lines, and 
shouting Revenge ! so animated the men, that they followed him like 
furies close up to the muzzles of the musquets, and pushing aside the 
bayonet with their targets, spead havoc and death with their broad- 
swords wherever they came. 


Till both of these heroes did fa', man ; 

For there was such hashing, 

And broad-swords a clashing, 
Brave Forfar himself got a claw, man ; 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Lord Perth stood the storm, 

Seaforth but lukewarm, 
Kilsyth and Strathallan not slaw, man ; 

And Hamilton pled, 

The men were not bred, 
For he had no fancy to fa', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Brave gen'rous Southesk, 

Tullibardin was brisk, 
Whose father indeed would not draw, man, 

Into the same yoke, 

Which serv'd for a cloak, 
To keep the estate 'twixt them twa, man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Forfar — Archibald Douglas, second Earl of Forfar, was Brigadier- 
General under Argyle. He received seventeen wounds in the battle, 
of which he soon after died at Stirling. 

Perth — James, Lord Drummond, eldest son of the Earl of Perth, 
acted as Lieutenant-General of Horse under Mar, and behaved very 

Seaforth — William Mackenzie, Earl of Seaforth — afterwards at- 

Kilsyth — William Livingston, third Viscount Kilsyth — also at- 

Strathallan — William Drummond.Viscount Strathallan. He evinced 
great activity and spirit on this occasion, but was taken prisoner. He 
afterwards perished in the battle of Culloden. 

Hamilton — Lieutenant-General George Hamilton, commanding 
under Mar. 

Southesk — James Carnegie, fifth Earl of Southesk. He was after- 
wards attainted, but escaped to France. 

Tullibardine — William Murray, Marquis of Tullibardine, eldest son 
of the Duke of Athole, was the first to join Mar. His father, however, 
refused to take up arms for the Chevalier, and this, the poet would 


Lord Rollo not fear'd, 

Kintore and his beard, 
Pitsligo and Ogilvie, a', man, 

And brothers Balfours, 

They stood the first show'rs, 
Clackmannan and Burleigh did claw, man •. 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

But Cleppan fought pretty, 

And Strowan the witty, 
A poet that pleases us a', man ; 

For mine is but rhyme, 

In respect of what's fine, 
Or what he is able to draw, man, 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

For Huntly and Sinclair, 
They both play'd the tinkler, 

insinuate, was a measure of policy concerted between them, " to 
keep the estate 'twixt them twa." 

Rollo — Robert Rollo, fourth Lord Rollo — a man of merit and in- 
tegrity, much esteemed at the time. 

Kintore — William Keith, second Earl of Kintore. After this battle 
he never shaved his beard. 

Pitsligo— Alexander, fourth Lord of Pitsligo. A man of talents, 
and universally beloved and esteemed. 

Ogilvie — James, Lord Ogilvie, eldest son of the third Earl of Airly. 
He was attainted, but afterwards pardoned. 

Balfours — Some relations, it is supposed, of the Lord Burleigh. 

Burleigh — Robert Balfour, Lord Burleigh. He was afterwards 

Cleppan — Major William Clephane, Adjutant-General to the Mar- 
quis of Drummond. 

Strowan — Alexander Robertson of Strowan, who, having expe- 
rienced every vicissitude of life with a stoical firmness, died in 

Huntly — Alexander, Marquis of Huntly, afterwards second Duke 
of Gordon. He was confined in Edinburgh Castle the following year, 
but no penal proceedings were instituted against him- 

Sinclair — John, Master of Sinclair. He was attainted, but after- 
wards pardoned, and died in 1750. 


With consciences black as a craw, man ; 

Some Angus and Fifemen, 

They ran for their life, man, 
And ne'er a Lot's wife there at a' man, 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Then Laurie the traitor, 

Who betray'd his master, 
His king and his country, and a', man, 

Pretending Mar might, 

Give orders to fight, 
To the right of the army awa', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Then Laurie for fear, 

Of what he might hear, 
Took Drummond's best horse, and awa', man, 

'Stead of going to Perth, 

He crossed the Firth, 
Alongst Stirling bridge, and awa', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

The Angus and Fife men — These fought on the left of Mar's army, 
which was repulsed by Argyle's right. 

Laurie the Traitor—" There was at this time a report prevalent 
that one Drummond went to Perth under the notion of a deserter 
from the Duke of Argyle, but in reality acted the part of a spy, and 
gave his Grace intelligence of all the motions of the enemy. This 
man was employed the day of the action, as aid-de-camp to the Lord 
Drummond, and in that quality, attended the Earl of Mar to receive 
his orders ; the Earl when he found his right was like to break the 
Duke's left, sent this Drummond with orders to General Hamilton, 
who commanded on the rebels' left, to attack the enemy briskly, for 
that he was like to get the better on the right. But Drummond, as 
they pretend, gave contrary orders and intelligence to General Hamil- 
ton, acquainting him that the Earl's right was broke, and desiring 
the General to retire with all the expedition possible, and in the best 
order he could. Upon which General Hamilton gave orders to slacken 
the attack, which was obeyed. Then the Duke's right approaching, 
the mo.-.t of them gave way without striking a stroke, and those who 
stood were mostly gentlemen and officers, who were severely galled 
by the Duke; and they pretend that Drummond, after performing this 
treacherous part, went over to the Duke." 


To London he press'd, 

And there he profess'd, 
That he behav'd best of them a', man ; 

And so, without strife, 

Got settled for life, 
An hundred a-year to his fa', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

In Borrowstounness 

He resides with disgrace, 
Till his neck stand in need of a thraw, man, 

And then, in a tether, 

He'll swing from a ladder, 
And go off the stage with a pa', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Rob Roy there stood watch 

On a hill, for to catch 
The booty, for ought that I saw, man, 

For he ne'er advanc'd, 

From the place he was stanc'd, 
Till no more was to do there at a', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Rob Roy. — .One of the causes of Mar's left wing being repulsed was 
the part which Rob Roy acted in keeping his men together at some 
distance during the battle, without allowing them to engage ; al- 
though it is said they showed all the willingness imaginable. " The 
conduct of this gentleman," says Moir in his manuscript, " was the 
more surprising, as he had ever been remarkable for courage and 
activity. When asked by one of his own officers to go and assist his 
friends, he remarked, " If they cannot do it without me, they can- 
not do it with me." It is more than probable, however, that his 
interference would have decided the day in favour of his own party. 
He continued in arms for some years afterwards, and committed 
great depredations in Dumbartonshire, particularly on the Duke of 
Montrose's lands, defeating some detachments of troops sent to re- 
duce him. As the conduct and character of this partizan was very 
remarkable about that period, the following particulars respecting 
him may not be unacceptable to the reader : — >" Rob Roy was a 
younger son of Lieutenant-Colonel Donald M'Gregor by a daughter 


So we all took the flight, 

And Moubray the Wright, 
And Lethem the smith was a bra' man, 

For he took a fit, 

Of the gout, which was wit, 
By judging it time to withdraw, man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

of Campbell of Glenlyon. His original employment, like' that of 
persons of some rank in the Highlands, was a grazier and cattle- 
dealer, but misfortunes and oppression compelled him to those law- 
less courses, in which he afterwards became so distinguished. " While 
occupied as a grazier," says the author of the Highland Rogue, a 
pamphlet published in London while Rob was alive, " he gained the 
love of all who knew him, for he had good natural parts, was oblig- 
ing to every body, and a very diverting pleasant fellow in conversa- 
tion ; he kept good company, and regarded his word with the great- 
est strictness imaginable." But his prospects were soon blasted by 
the treachery of a person whom he had admitted as a partner into 
his extensive business, and who absconded with a large sum of 
money, the property of M'Gregor. This disaster, and the unsuccess- 
ful issue of a law-suit against the I)uke of Montrose, involved him 
in beggary and ruin. Seeing no possibility of retrieving his losses, or 
avoiding the persecution of his enemies, he first retired from the 
storm with a few of his followers, and lived in seclusion at Craig- 
rostan, a fastness belonging to him on the banks of Lochlomond. 
As the very name of M'Gregor had been denounced and proscribed, 
he adopted that of Campbell out of respect to John, 2d Duke of 
Argyle, who continued to befriend him. But to a person of M'Gre- 
gor's unsettled habits, accustomed to active exertion, and the leader 
of a savage but powerful clan, retirement only gave an opportunity 
of brooding over his wrongs, and nursing those resentments and 
heart-burnings against his oppressors, which at last burst forth in 
predatory incursions upon their cattle and properly. It is at this 
period of his history that we have so many instances of his romantic 
generosity, and retributive exactions. Being denounced by govern- 
ment as a suspected person at the very commencement of the Rebel • 
lion, he joined the Earl of Mar, and in the absence of his brother, 
who was chief of the M'Gregors, took the command of that clan at 
the battle of Sheriff-muir. His conduct on this occasion, contrasted 
with that rude magnanimity for which he was characterised, has 
excited general surprise. He is charged in the verse to which we 
refer, with an unprincipled disregard to the cause in which he affect- 
ed to embark, and a love of the plunder, and not of the giory to be 
derived from the enterprise. His apologists state a different motive 
for his conduct. Being patronised by the Duke of Argyle, who com- 
manded the Royal Army, Rob could neither embark in a cause of 
which he did not approve, nor openly resist a patron whom he durst 


And trumpet M'Lean, 

Whose breeks were not clean, 
Thro' misfortune he happen'd to fa', man : 

By saving his neck, 

His trumpet did break, 
And came off without musick at a', man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

So there such a race was, 

As ne'er in that place was, 
And as little chase was at a', man ; 

From each other they run 

Without touk of drum, 
They did not make use of a paw, man : 
And we ran, and they ran, &c 

Whether we ran, or tkey ran, 
Or we wan, or they wan, 

not offend. But his conduct, and that of his followers, immediately 
after the battle, affords too much room for the opinion, that plunder 
was the chief object they had for assembling. They retired to Falk- 
land, and on pretence of levying contiibutions for the King's friends, 
gratified their own rapacity, and then retired to the mountains. 
Rob and the whole clan were afterwards specially excepted from 
the act of indemnity, passed at the close of the rebellion. The 
following anecdote is recorded of M'Gregor when on his death-bed : 
—being urged by the priest in attendance to forgive his enemies, 
Rob demurred ; but the request being again pressed and enforced by 
the appropriate quotation from our Lord's prayer, Rob answered, 
" Ay, now ye hae gien me baith law and gospel for't. It's a hard 
law, but I ken it's gospel;" then turning to his son Rob Oig, he 
said, " My sword and dirk lie there. Never draw them without 
reason, nor put them up without honour. I forgive my enemies ; 

but see you to them, or may ," and he expired. He was buried 

in the church-yard of Balquhidder, where a common grave-stone 
covers his remains, without inscription, and no other ornament than 
a sword in pale, rudely executed. 

Trumpet Maclean — This hero, who saved his life by the loss of his 
trumpet, had been employed in carrying a message from Mar to the 
Duke of Argyle, about three weeks before the armies met. His re- 
port of his mission is printed in Hogg's Relics, and is curious. Not- 
withstanding the mishap in his breeks, said to have befallen him at 
Sheriffmuir, he appears to have been a spirited fellow. 


Or if there was winning at a', man, 

There no man can tell, 

Save our brave Genarell, 
Who first began running of a', man, 

- And we ran, and they ran, &c. 

Wi' the Earl o' Seaforth, 

And the cock o' the north ; 
But Florence ran fastest of a' man, 

Save the laird o' Phinaven, 

Who sware to be even 
Wi' any general or peer o' them a', man. 

And we ran, and they ran, &c. 


From Bogie side to Bog o' Gight, 
The Gordons did conveen, man, 

For battle fight, wi' a' their might, 
Wi' courage stout and keen, man ; 

The Cock o' the North — An honorary title of the Dukes of Gordon. 
The Duke, however, was not present at this engagement. Being 
suspected of favouring the cause of the exiled family, he was then 
confined to Edinburgh on his parole. 

Florence — The name of a celebrated horse belonging to the Mar- 
quis of Huntly. 

Laird of Phinaven — Carnegy of Phinaven, who afterwards deserted 
the Jacobite party in favour of Government. 

This ballad accords so well with the facts which were afterwards 
reported by the respective parties, that if it had no other merit, it 
would be valuable, as a humorous gazette account of the battle in 
rhyme. According to the authority of the Ettrick Shepherd, the 
tune to which it is most commonly and appropriately sung is very old. 
" It was played," says he, " at the taking away of every bride for 
centuries before that period, and was called She's yours, she's yours, 
she's nae mair ours." It also got the name of John Paterson's Mare, 
from a song that was made on a wedding broose, or horse-race for the 
bride's napkin ; aud this is the name which it is most commonly 
known by at the present day. 

* This Song contains many bitter personalities against the Gor- 


To set their king upon the throne, 
And to protect the church, man : 
But, fie for shame ! they soon turn'd hame, 
And left him in the lurch, man. 
And wow as the marquis rade, 

And wow as he ran : N 

And hey as the marquis rade, 
A-coming frae Dumblane ! 

The marquis' horse were first set on, 

Glen-Bucket's men to back them, 
Who swore that great feats they would do, 

If rebels durst attack them. 
Wi' great huzzas to Huntly's praise 

They mov'd Dunfermline green, man ; 
But fifty Grants, and deil ane mae, 

Turn'd a' their beets to sheen, man.* 
And wow, &c. 

Out cam the knight o' Gordonston, 

Forth stepping on the green, man -. 
He had a wisp in ilka hand, 

To dight the marquis clean, man ; 
For the marquis he befyl'd himsel, 

The Enzie was na clean, man ; 
And wow as the marquis rade, 

A-coming frae Dumblane, man ! 
And wow, &c. 

dons, and is an inveterate party production. It was probably written 
by one of the Grants, who were always envious and jealous of their 
more potent neighbours, the Gordons. It meanly violates the truth 
with respect to the latter; for, though the Marquis of Huntly was on 
the left wing at the head of a body of horse, and among the gentle- 
men that fled, yet two battalions of Gordon's vassals behaved as well 
as any on the field, and were particularly instrumental in breaking 
the Whig cavalry and driving them back among their foot. 

* This stanza seems to refer to an engagement that took place at 
Dollar, a fortnight before the battle of Sheriff'muir. 


Their chief he is a man of fame, 

And doughty deeds has wrought, man, 
Which future ages still shall name, 

And tell how well he fought, man : 
For when the battle was begun, 

Immediately his Grace, man, 
Put spurs to Florence,* and so ran, 

By a' he wan the race, man. 
And wow, &c. 

When they went into Sherramuir, 

Wi' coinage stout and keen, man, 
Wha wad hae thought the Gordons gay 

That day wad quat the green, man ? 
Auchluncart and Auchanochie, 

Wi' a' the Gordon tribe, man, 
Like their great marquis, they could not 

The smell o' powder bide, man. 
And wow, &c. 

Glen-Bucket cried, " Curse on you a' !" 

For Gordons do nae gude, man ; 
The first o' them that ran awa, 

Was o' the Seton blood, man. 
Glassturam swore it wasna sae, 

And that he'd make appear, man ; 
For he a Seton stood that day, 

When Gordons ran for fear, man. 
And wow, &c. 

Sir James of Park he left his horse 

In the middle of a wall, man, 
And wadna stay to take him out, 

For fear a knight should fall, man. 

* The name of a celebrated horse belonging to the Marquis of 


Magon he let the reird gae out, 

Which shows a panic fear, man ; 
Till Craigiehead swore he was shot, 

And curs'd the chance o' weir, man. 
And wow, &c. 

Clunie play'd a game at chess, 

As well as ony thing, man, 
But, like the knavish Gordon race, 

Gave check unto the king, man. 
He plainly saw, without a cpieen, 

The game would not recover, 
So therefore he withdrew his knight, 

And join'd the rock Hanover, 
And wow, &c. 

The master, wi' the bully's face, 

And wi' the coward's heart, man. 
Wha never fail'd, to his disgrace, 

To act a coward's part, man, 
He join'd Dunbog, the greatest rogue 

In a' the shire o' Fife, man, 
Wha was the first the cause to leave, 

By counsel o' his wife, man. 
And wow, &c. 

A member o' the tricking tribe, 

An Ogilvie by name, man, 
Counsellor was to th' Grumbling Club, 

To his eternal shame, man. 
Wha wad hae thought, when he went out, 

That ever he woidd fail, man ? 
Or like that he wad eat the cow, 

And worry on the tail, man ? 
And wow, &c. 


At Poincle Boat great Frank Stewart, 

A valiant hero stood, man, 
In acting of a loyal part, 

'Cause of the royal blood, man : 
But when he fand, at Sherramuir, 

That battling wadna do it, 
He, brother-like, did quit the ground, 

But ne'er came back unto it. 
And wow, &c. 

Brimestone swore it wasna fear 

That made him stay behin', man, 
But that he had resolv'd that day 

To sleep in a hale skin, man. 
The gout, he said, made him take bed, 

When first the fray began, man ; 
But when he heard the marquis lied, 

He took to's heels and ran, man, 
And wow, &c. 

Methven Smith, at Sherramuir, 

Made them believe, he fought, man, 
But weel I wat it wasna sae, 

For a' he did was nought, man : 
For towards night, when Mar drew off, 

Smith was put in the rear, man ; 
He curs'd, he swore, he bullied off, 

And durstna stay for fear, man. 
And wow, &c. 

At the first he did appear 

A man of good renown, man ; 

But lang ere a' the play was play'd, 
He prov'd an arrant loon, man. 

For Mar against a loyal war, 
A letter he did forge, man ; 


Against his prince lie wrote nonsense, 
And swore by German George, man. 
And wow, &c. 

The Gordons they are kittle flaws, 

They fight wi' courage keen, man, 
When they meet in Strathbogie's ha's 

On Thursday's afterneen, man : 
But when the Grants came down Spey side, 

The Enzie shook for fear, man, 
And a' the lairds ga'e up themsels, 
Their horse and riding gear, man. 
And wow as the marquis rade, 

And wow as he ran, 
And hey as the marquis rade, 
A-coming from Dumblane ! * 


W. O cam ye here the fight to shun, 

Or herd the sheep wi' me, man ? 
Or were ye at the Sherramuir, 

Or did the battle see man ? 
T. I saw the battle sair and teugh, 
And reeking red ran mony a sheugh : 
My heart for fear ga'e sough for sough, 

* This stanza obviously refers to the final submission of the Gor- 
dons to the government, which was made through the Grants and 
the Earl of Sutherland. 

The gentleman from whose collection this song was got by the 
Ettrick Shepherd, said, " Why, Hogg, if you publish this bitter old 
party squib, you will have to fight duels with every one of the Gor- 
dons individually." " Oh, IHl tak my chance o- that," said the Shep- 
herd; "for if ony o' them challenge me, I will just put them into the 
police office, where they may cool their courage and come to their senses 
at their ain leisure. 1 ' The air to which it is sung is the well-known 
one of " There's nae luck about the house," but it is also frequently 
set to the tune of " The lasses of Stervarton." 


To hear the thuds, and see the cluds 
O' clans frae woods, in tartan duds, 
Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three man. 

The redcoat lads, wi' black cockades, 
To meet them warna slaw, man ; 

They rush'd, and push'd, and blood out gush'd. 
And mony a bouk did fa', man. 

The great Argyle led on his files, 

I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles ; 

They hough'd the clans like ninepin kyles, 

They hack'd and hash'd, while braid swords 
clash'd, [smash'd, 

And through they dash'd, and hew'd, and 
Till fey men died awa, man. 

But had ye seen the philabegs, 

And skyrin tartan trews, man, 
When in the teeth they dar'd our Whigs, 

And covenant true blues, man ; 
In bines extended lang and large, 
When baigonets o'erpower'd the targe, 
And thousands hasten'd to the charge ; 
Wi' Highland wrath, they frae the sheath 
Drew blades o' death, till, out o' breath, 

They fled like frighted dows, man. 

W. O how deil, Tarn, can that be true ? 

The chance gade frae the north man ; 
I saw mysel, they did pursue 

The horsemen back to Forth, man, 
And at Dumblane, in my ain sight, 
They took the brig wi' a' their might, 
And straight to Stirling wing'd their flight ; 
But, cursed lot ! the gates were shut, 
And mony a huntit, poor redcoat, 

For fear amaist did swarf, man. 


T. My sister Kate cam up the gate 

Wi' crowdie unto me, man ; 
She swore she saw some rebels run 

To Perth and to Dundee, man. 
Their left hand gen'ral had nae skill, 
The Angus lads had nae gude will, 
That day their neighbours' blude to spill ; 
For fear by foes that they should lose 
Their cogues o' brose, they scar'd at blows, 

And ham e ward fast did flee, man. 

They've lost some gallant gentlemen 
Amang the Highland clans, man ; 
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain, 
Or in his en'mies' hands, man. 
Now wad ye sing this double flight, 
Some fell for wrang, and some for right, 
And mony bade the waiid gude-night, 
Say pell and mell, wi' muskets knell, 
How Tories fell, and Whigs to hell 
Flew afF in frighted bands, man. 


Up and warn a', Willie, 
Warn, warn a' ; 
To hear my canty Highland sang 
Relate the thing I saw, Willie. 

When we gaed to the braes o' Mar, 
And to the weapon-shaw, Willie, 

Wi' true design to serve our king, 
And banish Whigs awa', Willie. 

* This song is written in a similar political strain to the one im- 
mediately preceding. It is difficult to account for the chorus, unless 


Up and warn a' Willie, 
Warn, warn a'; 
For lords and lairds came there bedeen, 
And wow but they were braw, Willie. 

But when the standard was set up, 

Right fierce the wind did blaw, Willie : 
The royal nit upon the tap 

Down to the ground did fa,* Willie. 
Up and warn a', Willie, 

Warn, warn a' ; 
Then second sighted Sandy said, 
We'd do nae gude at a', Willie. 

But when the army join'd at Perth,f 
The bravest e'er ye saw, Willie, 

We didna doubt the rogues to rout, 
Restore our king an' a' Willie, 

we are to suppose it adopted for the sake of the favourite old tune 
of " Up art,' n-aur them a? Willie," since there was not a Willie of any 
note in the whole Jacobite army. 

* This stanza refers to an incident which happened at the great 
Jacobite meeting, which took place at Brae- Mar, just before the 
rebellion broke out. It is thus related by George Charles : — The 
Earl of Mar erected the Chevalier's standard there, on the 6th of 
September, 1715, and proclaimed him King of Scotland, England, 
France, and Ireland. This standard, supposed to be made by the 
Earl's lady, was very elegant ; the colour was blue, having on the one 
side the Scottish arms wrought in gold, and on the other the Scottish 
thistle, with these words beneath, " No Union" and on the top the 
ancient motto, " Nemo me impune lacesset." It had pendents of 
white ribbon, one of which had these words written upon it—." For 
our wronged King and oppressed country." The other ribbon had— 
" For our lives and liberties." It is reported that when this standard 
was first erected, the ornamental ball on the top fell off— a circum- 
stance which greatly depressed the spirits of the Highlanders, whose 
superstitious prejudices led them to regard it as ominous of misfor- 
tune to the cause in which they had embarked. 

f At setting up the standard of the Chevalier, the Earl of Mar had 
not above 500 foot and horse ; yet, in a few days, his army increased 
to between three and four thousand, and was able by a detachment 


Up and warn a', Willie, 
Warn, warn a' ; 
The pipers play'd frae right to left, 
O whirry Whigs awa', Willie. 

But when we march'd to Sherramuir, 
And there the rebels saw, Willie ; 
Brave Argyle attack'd our right, 
Our flank, and front and a', Willie. 
Up and warn a', Willie, 
Warn, warn a'; 
Traitor Huntly soon gave way, 
Seaforth, St. Clair, and a', Willie. 

But brave Glengary, on our right, 

The rebels' left did claw, Willie, 
He there the greatest slaughter made, 
That ever Donald saw, Willie. 
Up and warn a', Willie, 
Warn, warn a'; 
And Whittam fyl'd his breeks for fear, 
And fast did rin awa, Willie. 

For he ca'd us a Highland mob, 

And swore he'd slay us a', Willie ; 
But we chas'd him back to Stirling brig, 
Dragoons and foot and a', Willie. 
Up and warn a' Willie, 
Warn, warn a' ; 
At length we rallied on a hill, 
And briskly up did draw, Willie. 

to take possession of Perth, where he pitched his head-quarters. The 
Earl of Seaforth, having, in the meantime, secured the important pass 
of Inverness, Mar found himself in a short time at the head of no 
contemptible army, and in possession of three parts out of four of the 
country, and no army near to oppose him. 


But when Argyle did view our line, 

And them in order saw, Willie, 
He straight gaed to Dumblane again, 
And back his left did draw, Willie. 
Up and warn a', Willie, 
Warily warn a' ; 
Then we to Auchterarder march'd, 
To wait a better fa', Willie. 

Now if ye spier wha wan the day, 

I've tell'd you what I saw, Willie, 
We baith did fight, and baith were beat, 
And baith did rin awa', Willie. 
Up and warn a', Willie, 
Warn, warn a' ; 
For second sighted Sandy said 
We'd do nae good at a', Willie. 


Hard fate, that I should banish'd be, 
And rebel call'd with scorn, 

For serving of the kindest prince 
That ever yet was born. 

my king, God save my king, 
Whatever me befall ! 

1 would not be in Huntly's case, 

For honours, lands, and all. 

* This is the lament of one of the Highland Chieftains who went 
into exile shortly after the battle of Sheriff-muir. He strongly de- 
precates the defection of Huntly and Seaforth, who went over to the 
Brunswick interest, to which Huntly remained firm ; but on the 
landing of James in the neighbourhood of Aberdeen, Lord Sea- 
forth again espoused his eause, which he never afterwards de- 


My target and my good claymore 

Must now lie useless by ; 
My plaid and trews I heretofore 

Did wear most cheerfully. 
O my king, &c. 

So cheerfully our king came o'er, 

Sent Ecklin to the north ; 
But treach'rously he was betray'd 

By Huntly and Seaforth. 
O my king, &c. 

the broom, the bonny bonny broom, 
The broom of the Cowdenknowes ! 

1 wish these lords had staid at hame, 

And milked their minnies' ewes, 
O my king, &c. 

O wretched Huntly, hide thy head ! 

Thy king and country's gone, 
And many a valiant Scot hast thou 

By villany undone. 
O my king, &c. 

Farewell, Old Albion, I must take 

A long and last adieu ; 
Or bring me back my king again, 

Or farewell hope and you. 
O my king, &c. 

Set our true king upon the throne 

Of his ancestors dear, 
And send the German cuckold home 

To starve with his small gear. 
O my king, &c. 


Then happy days in peace we'll see, 

And joy in every face : 
Confounded all the Whigs shall be, 

And honest men in place. 

my king, God save my king, 
Whatever me befall ! 

1 would not be in Huntly's case, 

For honours, lands, and all. 

o kenmure's on and aw a.* 

O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie, 

O Kenmure's on and awa ; 
And Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord 

That ever Galloway saw. 

* About the same time that the Earl of Mar erected the standard 
of James at Brae-Mar, in the North, a simultaneous movement took 
place, on the part of the disaffected, in the South of Scotland, and 
this Song records the rising of Viscount Kenmure and his followers 
to join the English Jacobites, who had already assembled on the 
Borders. The Earl of Mar being apprised of this diversion in his 
favour, dispatched Brigadier Mackintosh, with 1 500 Highlanders, to 
join the party in the South. Mackintosh crossed the Firth of Forth, 
in spite of the men of war then lying in the Roads — marched to 
Edinburgh, in hopes that that capital would have surrendered at his 
appearance, but being disappointed in this, he returned to Leith and 
fortified himself in the Citadel. The Duke of Argyle, with a few re- 
gulars, the militia of Edinburgh, and some of the adjacent counties, 
attempted to dislodge him. Mackintosh was summoned to surren- 
der, but returned a resolute answer, and convinced the Duke that he 
must not pretend to attack him without cannon. His Grace retired, 
intending to return next day, with artillery sufficient to effect his 
purpose. However, the old Brigadier knew better things than to 
stand a bombardment, and effected a soldier-like retreat to Seaton 
Palace, the seat of the Earl of Wintoun, where he fortified himself 
till he received Mar's positive orders to join the rebels in the south. 
They were advanced as far as Kelso, when Mackintosh and his party 
joined them. Here a division arose among the English and Scots ; 
the former were for marching into England, where they said twenty 
thousand men were ready to join them ; and the latter were for 
marching up in the Duke of Argyle's rear, while Mar attacked him 
in front; and when they had dispersed his forces, then the whole 


Success to Kenmure's band, Willie ! 

Success to Kenmure's band ! 
There's no a heart that fears a Whig, 

That rides by Kenmure's hand. 

His lady's cheek was red, Willie, 

His lady's cheek was red, 
When she saw his steely jupes' put on, 

Which smell'd o' deadly feud. 
Here's Kenmure's health jri wine, Willie, 

Here's Kenmure's health in wine ; 
There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude , 

Nor yet o' Gordon's line. 

There's a rose in Kenmure's cap, Willie, 

There's a rose in Kenmure's cap, 
He'll steep it red in ruddie heart's blude, 

Afore the battle drap. 
Here's him that's far awa, Willie, 

Here's him that's far awa. 
And here's the flower that I lo'e best, 

The rose that's like the snaw. 

O Kenmure's lads are men, Willie, 

O Kenmure's lads are men, 
Their hearts and swords are metal true, 

And that "their faes shall ken. 

body was to march into England. This last, though the most ra- 
tional scheme, was not listened to by the English, and the Scots were 
for a long time obstinately resolved to adhere to it ; and in the long- 
run, when they were over-persuaded, above five hundred of them 
returned home. In the mean time, the rest of the body, in number 
about three thousand, continued their march southward, till they 
came to the town of Preston, where they were surrounded by the 
King's troops ; and after making a gallant defence-, wherein they 
had the advantage of the royalists, their chiefs agreed to sur- 


They'll live, or die wi' fame, Willie, 
They'll live, or die wi' fame ; 

And soon wi' sound o' victorie 
May Kenmure's lord come hame.* 


Make mane, my am Nithsdale,J thy leaf's i' 

the fa', 
The lealest o' thy bairns are drapping awa ; 
The rose i' thy bonnet, whilk flourish'd aye sae 

braw, [awa ' 

Is laigh wi' the mools, since Lord Maxwell's 

* Lord Kenmure was one of the noblemen who surrendered at 
Preston. He was afterwards tried in Westminster Hall, where, being 
advised to plead guilty, he was condemned, and along with the Earl 
ofDerwentwater, executed on Tower-Hill, 29<h February, 1715. The 
scaffold was no sooner cleaned from the stains of the execution of 
that unfortunate Earl, than Kenmure was brought out, accompanied 
by his son and some friends, and attended by two clergymen of the 
Church of England, in which communion he professed to die. He 
made no formal speech, but testified his sorrow for pleading guilty at 
his trial, acknowledged the pretender's title to the crown, and wished 
he might one day ascend the throne of his ancestors. Being assisted 
to undress by his friends, he kneeled and laid his head on the block, 
then raised it, gave the executioner some money, and told him he 
would give no sign, but when he laid down his head again, he might 
do his office. After remaining a short time in prayer, he resolutely 
laid down his head, which at two blows was severed from his body. — 
After his execution, a letter was found in his pocket addressed to the 
pretender, by the title of King James, declaring that he died for his 
faithful services to his Majesty, but hoped the cause would flourish 
after his death ; and as he died for his service, he trusted his Majesty- 
would provide for his wife and children. 

+ Written on the imprisonment of the Earl of Nithsdale after his 
trial for the part he took with the English Jacobites who rose simul- 
taneously with the Earl of Mar. 

j The Earl of Nithsdale was one of those who surrendered at 
Preston. He was afterwards tried and sentenced to decapitation ; 
but, by the extraordinary ability and admirable dexterity of his 
Countess, he escaped out of the tower on the evening before his in- 
tended execution, and died at Rome, 1744. The subjoined narra. 
tive of the manner in which his escape was effected, is so full of in- 


O wae be 'mang ye Southrons, ye traitor loons a.' ! 
Ye baud him ay down, wha's back's at the wa' : 
I' the eerie field o' Preston your swords ye wadna 

draw ; 
He lies i' cauld iron wha wad swappit ye a 1 . 

terest that the reader can hardly be displeased at its length, more 
particularly, as it exhibits a memorable instance of that heroic in- 
trepidity to which the female heart can rouse itself on trying occa- 
sions, when man, notwithstanding his boasted superiority, is but too 
apt to give way to despondency and despair. The tenderness of con- 
jugal affection, and the thousand apprehensions or anxieties that 
beset it in adversity, the long pressure of misfortune, and the dread 
of impending calamity, tend uniformly to overwhelm the spirits and 
distract the mind from any settled purpose ; but it is possible that 
those sentiments may be absorbed in a more energetic feeling, in a 
courage sustained by the conflicting influence of hope and despera- 
tion. Yet, even thus prepared, the mind may be inadequate to the 
attainment of a long and perilous enterprise ; and, in the present 
case, we have the testimony of Lady Nithsdale herself, that she would 
have sunk at the prospect of so many and such fearful obstacles, had 
she not relied with firmness on the aid of Providence. The detail of 
her narrative will show how greatly this reliance contributed to 
strengthen and regulate the tone of her resolution, not only in every 
vicissitude of expectation and disappointment, but in what is more 
trying than either, the sickening intervals of suspense and doubt. 

Extract of a letter from Lady Nithsdale to her sister Lady Lucy Herbert, 
Abbess of the Augustine Nuns at Bruges: — 
On the 22d of February, which fell on a Thursday, a petition was 
to be presented to the House of Lords. #*-•** T h e 

subject of the debate was, whether the King had the power to par- 
don those who had been condemned by Parliament. * * * 
* * * * " As the motion had passed generally, I thought I 
could draw some advantage in favour of my design. Accordingly, 
I immediately left the House of Lords, and hastened to the Tower, 
where, affecting an air of joy and satisfaction, I told all the guards I 
passed by, that I came to bring joyful tidings to the prisoners. I de- 
sired them to lay aside their fears, for the petition had passed the 
House in their favour. I then gave them some money to drink to 
the lords and his majesty, though it was but trifling; for I thought 
that if I were too liberal on the occasion, they might suspect my 
designs, and that giving them something would gain their good hu- 
mour and services for the next day, which was the eve of the execu- 
tion. The next morning I could not go to the Tower, having too 
many things on my hands to put in readiness; but in the evening 
when all was ready, I bent for Mrs. Mills, with whom I lodged, and 
I acquainted her with my design of attempting my lord's escape, as 
there was no prospect of his being pardoned; and this was the last 


wae be to the hand whilk drew nae the glaive, 
And cowed nae the rose frae the cap o' the 

brave ! 

To hae thri'en 'mang the Southrons as Scots- 
men aye thrave, 

Or ta'en a bloody nievefu' o' fame to the grave. 

night before the execution. I told her that I had every thing in 
readiness, and I trusted she would not refuse to accompany me, that 
my lord might pass for her. I pressed her to come immediately, as 
■we had no time to lose. At the same time I sent for Mrs. Morgan, 
then usually known by the name of Hilton, to whose acquaintance 
my dear Evans had introduced me, which I looked upon as a very 
singular happiness. I immediately communicated my resolution to 
her. She was of a tall and slender make ; so I begged her to put 
under her own riding-hood, one that I had prepared for Mrs. Mills, 
as she was to lend hers to my lord, that in coming out, he might be 
taken for her. Mrs. Mills was then with child ; so that she was not 
only of the same height, but nearly of the same size as my lord. When 
we were in the coach, I never ceased talking, that they might have 
no leisure to reflect. Their surprise and astonishment when I first 
opened my design to them, had made them consent without ever 
thinking of the consequences. On our arrival at the Tower, the first 

1 introduced was Mrs. Morgan : for I was only allowed to take in one 
at a time. She brought in the clothes that were to serve Mrs. Mills, 
when she left her own behind her. When Mrs. Morgan had taken 
off what she had brought for that purpose, I conducted her back to 
the stair-case; and in going I begged her to send me in my maid to 
dress me ; that I was afraid of being too late to present my last peti- 
tion that night, if she did not come immediately. I despatched her 
safe, and went partly down stairs to meet Mrs. Mills, who had the 
precaution to hold her handkerchief to her face, as was very natural 
for a woman to do when she was going to bid her last farewell to a 
friend on the eve of his execution. I had indeed desired her to do 
it, that my lord might go out in the same manner. Her eye-brows 
were rather inclined to be sandy, and my lord's were dark and very 
thick ; however, I had prepared some paint of the colour of hers to 
dissjuise his with. I also brought an artificial head-dress of the same 
coloured hair as hers; and I painted his face with white; and his 
cheeks with rouge, to hide his long beard, which he had not had time 
to shave. All this provision I had before left in the Tower. The 
poor guards, whom my slight liberality the day before had endeared 
me to, let me go quietly with my company, and were not so strictly 
on the watch as they usually had been ; and the more so, as they 
were persuaded, from what I had told them the day before, that the 
prisoners would obtain their pardon. I made Mrs. Mills take off - her 
own hood, and put on that which I had brought for her. I then 
took ber by the hand, and led her out of my lord's chamber; and, in 
passing through the next room, in which there were several people, 


The glaive for my country I doughtna then 
wield, [field ; 

Or I'd cock'd up my bonnet wi' the best o' the 

The crousest should been cowpit owre i' death's 
gory fauld, [cauld. 

Or the leal heart o' some i' the swaird should been 

with all the concern imaginable, I said, ' My dear Mrs. Catharine, go 
in all haste, and send me my waiting-maid; she certainly cannot re- 
flect how late it is ; she forgets that I am to present a petition to- 
night ; and, if I let slip this opportunity, I am undone ; for to-morrow 
will be too late. Hasten her as much as possible ; for I shall be on 
thorns till she comes.' Every body in the room, who were chiefly the 
guards' wives and daughters, seemed to compassionate me exceed- 
ingly ,- and the centinel officiously opened the door. When I had 
seen her out, I returned back to my lord, and finished dressing him. 
I had taken care Mrs. Mills did not go out crying as she came in, that 
my lord might the better pass for the lady who came in crying and 
affected ; and the more so because he had the same dress she wore. 
When I had almost finished dressing my lord in all my petticoats, 
excepting one, I perceived that it was growing dark, and was afraid 
that the light of the candles might betray us; so I resolved to set off. 
I went out leading him by the hand, and he held his handkerchief to 
his eyes. I spoke to him in the most piteous and afflicted tone of 
voice, bewailing bitterly the negligence of Evans, who had ruined me 
by her delay. Then said I, < My dear Mrs. Betty, for the love of God 
run quickly and bring her with you. You know my lodging ; and if 
ever you made despatch in your life, do it at present ; I am almost 
distracted with this disappointment. ' The guards opened the doors, 
and I went down stairs with him, still conjuring him to make all pos- 
sible despatch. As soon as he had cleared the door, I made trim walk 
before me, for fear the centinels should take notice of his walk ; but I 
still continued to press him to make all the despatch he possibly 
could. At the bottom of the stairs I met my dear Evans, into whose 
hands I confided him. I had before engaged Mr. Mills to be in readi- 
ness before the Tower to conduct him to some place of safety, in case 
we succeeded. He looked upon the affair so very improbable to sue. 
ceed, that his astonishment when he saw us, threw him into such 
consternation, that he was almost out of himself; which Evans per- 
ceiving, with the greatest presence of mind, without telling him any 
thing, lest he should mistrust them, conducted him to some of her 
own friends, on whom she could rely, and so secured him, without 
which we should have been undone. When she had conducted him, 
and left him with them, she returned to find Mr. Mills, who by this 
time had recovered himself from his astonishment. They went home 
together ; and, having found a place of security, they conducted him 
to it. 

" In the mean while, as I had pretended to have sent the young 
lady on a message, I was obliged-t&.return up stairs, and go back to 



Fu' aughty simmer shoots o' the forest hae I 
seen, [been, 

To the saddle-laps in blude i' the battle hae I 
But I never kend o' dule till I kend it yestreen. 
O that I were laid whare the sods are growing 


my lord's room, in the same feigned anxiety of being too late, so that 
every body seemed sincerely to sympathise with my distress. When 
I was in the room, I talked to him as if he had been really present, 
and answered my own questions, in my lord's voice, as nearly as I 
could imitate it, I walked up and down as if we were conversing to- 
gether, till I thought they had time enough thoroughly to clear them- 
selves of the guards. I then thought proper to make off also. I 
opened the door and stood half in it, that those in the outward 
chamber might hear what I said ; but held it so close that they could 
not look in. I bade my lord a formal farewell for the night ; and 
added, that something more than usual must have happened to make 
Evans negligent on this important occasion, who had always been so 
punctual in the smallest trifles ; that I saw no other remedy than to 
go in person : that, if the Tower were still open when I finished my 
business, I would return that night ; but that he might be assured I 
would be with him as early in the morning as I could gain admit- 
tance into the Tower ; and I flattered myself I should bring favour- 
able news. Then, before I shut the door, I pulled through the string 
of the latch, so that it could only be opened on the inside. I then 
shut it with some degree of force, that I might be sure of its being 
well shut. I said to the servant as I passed by, who was ignorant of 
the whole transaction, that he need not carry in candles to his master 
till my lord sent for them, as he desired to finish sor.e prayers first. 
I went down stairs and called a coach. As there were several on the 
stand, I drove home to my lodgings, where poor Mr. Mackenzie had 
been waiting to carry the petition, in case my attempt had failed. I 
told him there was no need of any petition, as my lord was safe out 
of the Tower, and out of the hands of his enemies, as I hoped ; but 
that I did not know where he was, I discharged the coach and sent 
for a sedan chair, and went to the duchess of Buccleugh, who ex- 
pected me about that time, as I had begged of her to present the 
petition for me, having taking my precautions against all events, and 
asked if she were at home, and they answered that she expected me, 
and had another duchess with her. I refused to go up stairs, as she 
had company with her, and 1 was not in a condition to see any other 
company. I begged to be shown into a chamber below stairs, and 
that they would have the goodness to send her grace's maid to me, 
having something to say to her. I had discharged the chair, lest I 
might be pursued and watched. When the maid came in, I desired 
her to present my most humble respects to her grace, who they told 
me had company with her, and to acquaint her that this was my 
only reason for not coming up stairs. I also charged her with my 


I tint half mysel when my gude lord I did tine : 
A heart half sae brave a braid belt will never bin', 
Nor the grassy sods e'er cover a bosom half sae 

He's a drap o' dearest blude i' this auld heart o' 


sincerest thanks for her kind offer to accompany me when I went to 
present my petition. I added, that she might spare herself any far- 
ther trouble, as it was now judged more adviseable to present one 
general petition in the name of all : however, that I should never be 
unmindful of my particular obligations to her grace, which I would 
return very soon to acknowledge in person. I then desired one of the 
servants to call a chair, and I went to the duchess of Montrose, who 
had always borne a part in my distress. When 1 arrived, she left her 
company to deny herself, not being able to see me under the affliction 
which shejudged me to be in. By mistake, however, I was admitted ; 
so there was no remedy. She came to me; and as my heart was in 
an ecstacy of joy, I expressed it in my countenance as she entered the 
room. I ran up to her in the transport of my joy. She appeared to 
be extremely shocked and frighted ; and has since confessed to me, 
that she apprehended my trouble had thrown me out of myself, till I 
communicated my happiness to her. She then advised me to retire 
to some place of security, for that the king was highly displeased, and 
even enraged at the petition that I had presented to him, and had 
complained of it severely. I sent for another chair; for I always 
discharged them immediately, lest I might be pursued. Her grace 
said that she would go to court, to see how the news of my lord's 
escape was received. When the news was brought to the king, he 
Hew into an' excess of passion, and said he was betrayed ; for it could 
not have been done without some confederacy. He instantly de- 
spatched two persons to the Tower, to see that the other prisoners 
were well secured, lest they should follow the example. Some threw 
the blame upon one, some upon another ; the duchess was the only 
one at court who- knew it. 

" When I left the duchess, I went to a house which Evans had 
found out for me, and where she promised to acquaint me where my 
lord was. She got thither some few minutes after me, and told me, 
that, when she had seen him secure, she went in search of Mr. Mills, 
who, by the time, had recovered himself from his astonishment ; that 
he had returned to her house, where she had found him ; and that he 
had removed my lord from the first place, where she had desired him 
to wait, to the house of a poor woman directly opposite to the guard- 
house. She had but one small room up one pair of stairs, and a very 
small bed in it. We threw ourselves upon the bed, that we might not 
be heard walking up and down. She left us a bottle of wine and some 
bread, and Mrs. Mills brought us some more in her pocket the next 
day. We subsisted on this provision from Thursday to Saturday 
night, when Mrs. Mills came and conducted my lord to the Venetian 


O merry was the lilting amang our ladies a', 
They danc'd i' the parlour, and sang i' the ha', 
O Jamie he's come o'er, and he'll put the Whigs 

But they canna dight their tears now, sae fast 

do they fa'. 
Our ladie dow does nought now but wipe aye her 

een, [gown ! 

Her heart's like to loup the gowd lace o' her 
She has buskit on her gay cleedin', an's aff for 

London town, [roun'. 

And has wi' her a' the hearts o' the countrie 

By the bud o' the leaf, by the rising o' the 

'Side the sang o' the birds, where some burn 

tottles owre, 

ambassador's. We did not communicate the affair to his excellency ; 
but one of his servants concealed him in his own room till Wednes- 
day, on which occasion the ambassador's coach and sis was to go 
down to Dover to meet his brother. My lord put on a livery, and 
went down in the retinue, without the least suspicion, to Dover, 
where Mr Mitchell (which was the name of the ambassador's servant) 
hired a small vessel, and immediately set sail for Calais. The passage 
was so remarkably short, that the captain threw out this reflection, 
that the wind could not have served better, if his passengers had been 
flying for their lives, little thinking it to be really the case. Mr Mit- 
chell might have easily returned, without being suspected of having 
been concerned in my lord's escape ; but my lord seemed inclined to 
have him continue with him, which he did, and has, at present, a 
good place under our young master. 

" This is as exact and as full an account of this affair, and of the 
persons concerned in it, as I could possibly give you, to the best of 
my memory, and you may rely on the truth of it. 1 am, with the 
strongest attachment, my dear Sister, yours most affectionately. 


Palais Royal tie Rome, 
Wb April, 1T18. 

The original manuscript of this letter is in the possession of 
Constable Maxwell, Esq. of Terreagles, a descendant of the noble 
House of Nithsdale. As a proof of the interest which the public took 
in the extraordinary adventure which it details, the following me- 


I'll wander awa there, and big a wee bit bower, 
For to keep my gray bead frae tbe drap o' tbe 

shower : 
And ay I'll sit and mane, till my blude stops 

wi' eild, 
For Nithsdale's bonny lord, wha was bauldest 

i' the field. 
O that I were wi' him i' death's gory fauld ! 
O had I but the iron on whilk hauds him sae 



' What news to me, carlin ? 

What news to me ?' 
' What news !' quo' the carlin, 

' The best that God can gie.' 
' Has our true king come hame ? 

Or the duke hang'd himsel ? 
Or ta'en frae his dadclie 

The hettest neuk o' hell ?' 

' The duke's hale and fier, carle, 

The duke's hale and fier, 
And our ain Lord Nithsdale 

Will soon be 'mang us here.' 
' Brush me my coat, carlin, 

Brush me my shoon ; 
I'll awa and meet Lord Nithsdale, 

When he comes to our town.' 

moraiidum may be quoted. William Maxwell, Earl of Nithsdale, 
made his escape from the Tower, Feb. 23, 1/2 15, dressed in a woman's 
cloak and hood, which were for some time after called Niths- 

* The joy of the peasantry on the Nithsdale Estates was unbound- 
ed, when they heard of his Lordship's escape. This is one of the 
popular rants expressive of their feelings, and which was published 
and sung every where at the time. 


' Alake-a-day !' quo' the carlin, 

' Alake-the-day !' quo' she, 
' He's owre in France, at Charlie's hand, 

Wi' only ae pennie.' 
' We'll sell a' our corn, carlin, 

We'll sell a' our bear, 
And we'll send to Lord Nithsdale 

A' our settle gear. 

Make the piper blaw, carlin, 

Make the piper blaw, 
And make the lads and lasses baith 

Their souple legs shaw. 
We'll a' be glad, carlin, 

We'll a' be glad, 
And play \ The Stuarts back again,' 

To put the Whigs mad. 


O Derwentwater's a bonny lord, 

He Avears gowd in his hair, 
And glenting is his hawking e'e, 

Wi' kind love dwelling there. 
Yestreen he came to our lord's yett, 

And loud loud could he ca', 
" Rise up, rise up for good King James. 

And buckle, and come awa." 

Our ladie held by her gude lord, 

Wi' weel love-locket hands ; 
But when young Derwentwater came, 

She loos'd the snawy bands. 
And when young Derwentwater kneel'd, 

" My gentle fair ladie," 
The tears gave way to the glow o' luve 

In our gude ladie's e'e. 


" I will think me on this bonny ring, 

And on this snawy hand, 
When on the helmy ridge o' weir 

Comes down my burly brand. 
And I will think on thae links o' gowd 

Which ring thy bonny blue een, 
When I wipe awa the gore o' weir, 

And owre my braid sword lean. " 

O never a word our ladie spake, 

As he press'd her snawy hand, 
And never a word our ladie spake, 

As her jimpy waist he spann'd ; 
But, " Oh, my Derwentwater !" she sigh'd, 

When his glowing lips she fand. 

He has drapp'd frae his hand the tassel o' gowd 

Winch knots his gude weir-glove, 
And he has drapp'd a spark frae his een, 

Which gars our ladie love. 
" Come down, come down," our gude lord says, 

" Come down, my fair ladie , 
O dinna young Lord Derwent stop, 

The morning sun is hie." 

And high high raise the morning sun, 

Wl' front o' ruddie blude : 
" Thy harlot front frae thy white curtain 

Betokens naething gude." 
Our ladie look'd frae the turret top, 

As lang as she could see, 
And every sigh for her gude lord, 

For Derwent there were three.* 

* This ballad was first published by Mr Cromek, and as he says, 
was taken from the recitation of a young girl, in the parish of Kirk- 
bean, in Galloway. It is obviously commemorative of Lord Dei- 



Farewell to pleasant Ditson Hall, 

My father's ancient seat ; 
A stranger now must call thee his, 

Which gars my heart to greet. 
Farewell each kindly well-known face, 

My heart has held so dear : 
My tenants now must leave their lands, 

Or hold their lives in fear. 

No more along the banks of Tyne, 

I'll rove in autumn gray ; 
No more I'll hear, at early dawn, 

The lav'rocks wake the day : 

wentwater's connection with the rebellion in 1715, and his conse- 
quent fate. He also was one of the noble prisoners taken at Preston, 
but was not so fortunate as to escape like Lord Nithsdale. His fate is 
thus described by a contemporary author :— " Radcliff, Earl of Der- 
wentwater, an elegant and very promising young man, suffered on 
the same morning with Viscount Kenmure. Previous to his death, 
he delivered a paper to the Sheriffs, in which he expressed his regret 
for pleading guilty at his trial, acknowledged ' King James the Third 
as his lawful and rightful Sovereign,' and wished ' that the laying 
down of his life might contribute to the service of his King and coun- 
try, and the re-establishment of the ancient and fundamental constitu- 
tion of the kingdom, without which no lasting peace or true happiness 
could attend them,' &c. Afterwards turning to the block, he viewed 
it close, and finding in it a rough place that might offend his neck, 
he bade the executioner chip it off'; then preparing himself for the 
blew, by pulling off his coat and waistcoat, he lay down to try if the 
block fitted his head, telling the executioner, that the sign he should 
give him was, Lord Jesus receive my soul, and at the third time of re- 
peating it he was to do his office; which he did accordingly at one blow." 
Smollett observes of him, '•' that he was an amiable youth— brave, 
open, generous, hospitable, and humane. His fate drew tears from 
the spectators, and was a great misfortune to the country in which 
he lived. He gave bread to multitudes of people, whom he employed 
on his Estates ; — the poor, the widow, and the orphan, rejoiced in his 
bounty." This is an amiable character, and though smirched with 
the foulness of rebellion, smells sweetly of heaven.— Cromek's Re- 


Then fare thee well, brave Witherington,* 

And Forster ever true. 
Dear Shaftsburyf and Errington,}: 

Receive my last adieu. 

And fare thee well, George Collingwood, 

Since fate has put us down, 
If thou and I have lost our lives, 

Our king has lost his crown. 
Farewell, farewell, my lady dear, 

111, ill thou counsell'dst me : 
I never more may see the babe 

That smiles upon thy knee. 

And fare thee well, my bonny gray steed, 

That carried me aye so free ; 
I wish I had been asleep in my bed, 

The last time I mounted thee. 

* TheTViddringtons of Cheeseburn Grange were deeply implicated 
in the rebellion of 1715. . Ralph Widdrington, Esq. was imprisoned 
and under sentence of death at Liverpool ; but he and his servant 
escaped out of the gaol by means of a rope thrown across the ditch 
or fosse. Mr. W. retired a few years to the Continent. He returned, 
however, and though he lived long after 1745, was never mo- 

t Mr. Surtees says that Shaftsbury should have been written Sliafto. 
The Shaftoes of Bavington forfeited their estate in 1715, which was 
repurchased from the crown by their relation, Admiral Delaval, and 
restored to the family. One of the Shaftoes is buried in the great 
Church at Brussels, with an Epitaph expressing his loyalty to James 

■f Lancelot Errington, and his nephew Mark, literally unassisted, 
secured Holy Island castle, and hoisted the white flag, but receiving 
no assistance were obliged to escape over the walls, were fired at, 
wounded (whilst swimming) and taken. They afterwards burrowed 
themselves out of Berwick gaol, were concealed nine days in a peat 
stack near Bamborogh Castle, (then General Forster's seat,) reached 
Gateshead House, and satled from Sunderland for France. Both of 
them returned to England, and one of them lived long in New- 
castle, but is said to have died of grief at tha results of the year 


The warning bell now bids me cease ; 

My trouble's nearly o'er ; 
Yon sun that rises from the sea, 

Shall rise on me no more. 

Albeit that here in London town 

It is my fate to die, 
O carry me to Northumberland, 

In my father's grave to lie : 
There chant my solemn requiem 

In Hexham's holy towers, 
And let six maids of fair Tynedale 

Scatter my grave with flowers. 

And when the head that wears the crown, 

Shall be laid low like mine, 
Some honest hearts may then lament 

For RadcliiFs fallen line. 
Farewell to pleasant Ditson Hall, 

My father's ancient seat ; 
A stranger now must call thee his, 

Which gars my heart to greet. * 

* This Song was communicated to the Ettrick Shepherd by Robert 
Surtees, Esq, of Mainsforth, with the following commentary :— " I 
send you all I can recover of this, just as I had it. As it seems to me 
that there is an hiatus at the end of the first twelve lines, there cer- 
tainly needs some connection to bring in ' Then fare thee well, brave 
Witherington,' &c — Perhaps the following lines may nearly express 
the sentiments that would have arisen in unison with the preceding 
ideas : — 

' And who shall deck the hawthorn bower 

Where my fond childhood strayed ? 
And who, when spring shall bid it flower, 
Shall sit beneath the shade ? 

With me the Radcliff's name must end, 

And seek the silent tomb, 
And many a kinsman, many a friend, 

With me must meet their doom. 

Of the victims who perished in this rash enterprise, none fell more 
lamented than the young and generous Derwentwater. It is usually 



My love was born in Aberdeen, 
The bonniest lad that e'er was seen : 
But now he's made our hearts fu' sad, 
He's ta'en the field wi' his white cockade. 

O he's a ranting roving blade ! 

O he's a brisk and bonny lad ! 

Betide what may, my heart is glad 

To see my lad wi' his white cockade. 

O leeze me on the philabeg, 
The hairy hough and garten'd leg ! 
But aye the thing that blinds my e'e 
Is the white cockade aboon the bree. 
O he's a ranting roving blade, &c. 

supposed that the unfortunate Earl's last request, that of burial with 
his ancestors, was refused from a fear of exciting some popular move- 
ment in the north, and that the body was, in consequence, interred 
in the churchyard of St. Giles, Holborn. However, either a sham 
burial took place, or the corpse was afterwards removed; for it was 
certainly carried secretly by his friends, resting by day and travelling 
only by night, into Northumberland, and deposited with the remains 
of his father, in the chapel at rilston. 

' With viewless speed by night they pass, 

By day a silent vigil keep ; 
No priest to chaunt the holy mass, 

But Tynedale peasants wake and weep.' 

A little porch before the farm-house of Whitesmocks is still pointed 
out as the exact spot where the Earl's corpse rested, thus avoiding the 
city of Durham. The most extraordinary part is yet untold. Some 
years ago the coffin which contained the Earl's remains was, from 
curiosity or accident, broken open ; and the body, easily recognized 
by the suture round the neck, by the appearance of youth, and by 
the regularity of the features, was discovered in a state of complete 
preservation. The teeth were all perfect, and several of them were 
drawn by a blacksmith, and sold for half-a-crown a-piece, till the 
trustees, or their agent, ordered the vault to be closed again. The 
aurora borealU, which appeared remarkably vivid on the night of the 
unfortunate Earl's execution, is still known in that part of the coun- 
try by the name of Lord Denvenimitvr's Lights. 


I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel, 
My rippling-kame, and spinning-wheel, 
To buy mysel' a tartan plaid, 
A braid sword, durk, and white cockade. 
O he's a ranting roving blade, &c. 

I'll sell my rokelay and my tow, 

My good gray mare and hawkit cow, 

That every loyal Scottish lad 

May take the field wi' his white cockade. 

O he's a ranting roving blade ! 

O he's a brisk and bonny lad ! 

Betide what may, my heart is glad, 

To see my lad wi' his white cockade. * 


As I came down the Cano'gate, 
The Cano'gate, the Cano'gate, 
As I came down the Cano'gate, 
I heard a lassie sing : 

" O merry may the keel row, 
The keel row, the keel row, 
Merry may the keel row, 
The ship that my love's in. 

My love has breath o' roses, 
O' roses, o' roses, 
Wi' arms o' lily posies, 
To faidd a lassie in. 
O merry, &c. 

* The words of this Song are of no value, and the verses are mere 
namby pamby, but they express the prevailing sentiment of the time, 
at least among the female part of the nation, and hence they were 
exceedingly popular. Perhaps they were indebted for a little of this 
distinction to the tune, which is a favourite even at the present day. 


My love he wears a bonnet, 
A bonnet, a bonnet, 
A snawy rose upon it, 
A dimple on his chin. 

O merry may the keel row, 
The keel row, the keel row, 
Merry may the keel row, 

The ship that my love's in."* 


Here's a health to the valiant Swede, 
He's not a king that man hath made ; 
May no oppressors him invade ; 

Then let this health go round. 
A running bumper crown this toast ; 
We'll take it off, whate'er it cost. 
A rig for those that rule the roast ! 

We'll ne'er in liquor drown. 

Here's a health to the royal seed, 
And to the king that's king indeed ; 
If not ill ta'en, it's not ill said : 
Then let this toast go round. 
A running bumper, &c. 

To all our injur'd friends in need, 
On this side and beyond the Tweed ; 
May each man have his own with speed : 
Then let this health go round. 
A running bumper, &c. 

* This is probably the original of the pretty household Sons:, 
' JVtcl may the Boatie Rom,' which is sung to a well-known bridal 
tune, and is a universal favourite with the common people. Like 
many other fragments of Scottish Song, it has the Jacobite rose 
growing among its love sentiments. 


Here's a health to the mysterious Czar 
I hope he'll send us help from far, 
To end the work begun by Mar : 
Then let this health go round. 
A running bumper, &c. 

May our affairs abroad succeed, 
And may the king return in speed ; 
May each usurper shake for dread : 
Let all these healths go round. 
A running bumper, &c. * 


Come, let us drink a health, boys, 

A health unto our king ; 
We'll drink no more by stealth, boys, 

Come let our glasses ring. 
For England must surrender 
To him they call Pretender : 
God save our faith's defender, 

And our true lawful king. 

* George the I. having joined the famous confederacy against 
Charles the XII., that madcap warrior rowed revenge, and entered 
into arrangements with the Stuart party to invade England, and 
reinstate James on the throne. Hence the compliment paid to the 
Valiant Swede in this Song. So alarmed was the English monarch, 
rnd so convinced was he of Charles's hostile intentions, that he caused 
the Swedish Ambassador to be secured, and his papers seized— a 
proceeding which excited the astonishment, and roused the remon- 
strances of all the other foreign ministers, as a gross violation of the 
rights of Ambassadors, and contrary to the law of nations. At 
George's instigation, similar measures were adopted against the 
Swedish Minister at the Hague, Baron Gortz. The Baron owned he 
had projected the invasion, but justified it by the King of England's 
own conduct, who, he said, had entered the confederacy against 
Charles, without the slightest provocation, and had sent a squadron 
of ships to the Baltic, which had joined the Danes and Russians 
against the Swedish tleet. 


The royal youth deserveth 

To fill the sacred place ; 
'Tis he alone preservetk 

The Stuarts' ancient race. 
Since 'tis our inclination 
To call him to the nation, 
Let each man, in his station, 

Receive his king in peace. 

With heart and hand we'll join, boys, 

To set him on his throne ; 
We'll all combine as one, boys, 

Till this great work be done. 
We'll pidl down usurpation, 
And, spite of abjuration, 
And force of stubborn nation, 

Great James's title own. 

We'll no more, by delusion, 

With Hogan Mogan* join; 
Nor will we, with profusion, 

Waste both our blood and coin : 
But for our king we'll fight, then ; 
Who is our heart's delight, then, 
Like Scots, in armour bright, then, 

We'll all cross o'er the Tyne. 

Sophia's dead and gone, boys, 

Who thought to have been queen ; 

The like befall her son, boys, 
Who thinks o'er us to reign. 

* Hogan Mogan, so often employed in songs referring to King 
William, is a corruption of Hough Mogedige, the Dutch words for 
" High and Mighty ;" a title of the States of the United Provinces of 
the Netherlands. 


We'll root out usurpation 
Entirely from the nation 
And cause the restoration 
Of James, our lawful king. 

But let the Duke of Brunswick 

Sit still upon his bum ; 
He's but a perfect dunseke, 

If e'er he meant to come. 
The rogues who brought him over. 
They plainly may discover, 
'Twere better for Hanover 

He'd stay'd and drunk his mum. 

Ungrateful Prince Hanover, 
Go home now to thy own ! 

Thou act'st not like a brother 
To him who owns the crown. 

There's thirty of that race, man, 

Before that thou take place, man ; 

It were a great disgrace, man, 
Thy title yet to own. 

Let our brave loyal clans, then, 

Their ancient Stuart race 
Bestore, with sword in hand, then, 

And all their foes displace. 
All unions we'll o'erturn, boys, 
Which caus'd our nation mourn, boys 
Like Bruce at Bannockburn, boys, 
The English home we'll chase. 

Our king they do despise, boys, 
Because of Scottish blood ; 

But for all their oaths and lies, boys, 
His title still is good, 


Ere Brunswick sceptre wield, boys, 
We'll all die in the field, boys ; 
For we will never yield, boys, 
To serve a foreign brood.* 


The piper came to our town, 
To our town, to our town, 
The piper came to our town, 

And he play'd bonnilie. 
He play'd a spring, the laird to please, 
A spring brent new frae 'yont the seas ; 
And he then gae his bags a wheeze, 

And play'd anither key. 

And wasna he a roguy, 
A roguy, a roguy, 
And wasna he a roguy, 

The piper o' Dundee ? 
He play'd " The Welcome owre the Main," 
And " Ye'se be fou and I'se be fain," 
And " Auld Stuarts back again," 

Wi' muckle mirth and glee. 

And wasna, &c. 

He play'd " The Kirk," he play'd " The Queer, 
" The Mullin Dhu," and " Chevalier," 
And " Lang away, but welcome here," 
Sae sweet, sae bonnilie. 

* This song seems to have been written after the death of the 
Princess Sophia, Electress Dowager of Hanover, grand-daughter of 
James VI. and mother of George I., in 1714. The Jacobites calcu- 
lated largely on that event, as loosening the connexion between the 
house of Hanover and the British throne. 


And wasna, &c. 

It's some gat swords, and some gat nane, 
And some were dancing mad their lane, 
And mony a vow o' weir was ta'en 
That night at Amulrie. 

And wasna, &c. 

There was Tullibardine and Burleigh, 
And Struan, Keith, and Ogilvie, 
And brave Carnegie, wha but he, 
The piper o' Dundee ?* 


O heavens, he's ill to be guidit, 
His colleagues and he are dividit, 
Wi' the court of Hanover he's sidit, 

He winna be guidit by me. 
They ca'd him their joy and their darling, 
Till he took their penny of arling ; 
But he'll prove as false as Macfarlane : 

He winna be guidit by me. 

He was brought south by a merling, 
Got a hundred and fifty pounds sterling, 
Which will make him bestow the auld carlin : 
He winna be guidit by me. 

* The hero of this Song is supposed to have been Carnegie of 
Phinhaven, celebratsd as the best flyer from the field of Sheriflfmuir, 

" The laird of Phinaven, who swore to be even 

Wi' ony general or peer o' them a', man." 
He was a very active partizan of the Stuart party for a while, but 
afterwards became notorious for deserting the cause, and of course 
incurred all the odium usually attached to the character of a turn- 
coat. The Song evidently refers to some meeting held at Ambulree, 
a village in Perthshire, no doubt with a view to ascertain the feelings 
of individuals towards the cause, and (is their intentions. 


He's anger'd his goodson and Fintry, 
By selling his king and his country, 
And put a deep stain on the gentry : 
He'll never be guidit by me. 

He's join'd the rebellious club, too, 

That endeavours our peace to disturb, too ; 

He's cheated poor Mr. John Grub, too, 

And he's guilty of simony. 
He broke his promise before, too, 
To Fintry, Auchterhouse, and Strathmore, too ; 
God send him a heavy glengore, too, 

For that is the death he will die.* 


Perfidious Britain, plung'd in guilt, 

Rebellious sons of loyal race, 
How long, how long will ye insult 

Your banish'd monarch suing peace ? 
What floods of native blood are spilt ! 

What sewers of treason drain our land ! 
How many scourges have we felt 

In the late aspiring tyrant's hand ! 

* This Song appears to have been written on the defection of Car- 
negie of Phinhaven, as already observed in a preceding note. The 
last verse probably alludes to the circumstance of his trial for having 
accidentally killed the Earl of Strathmore in a broil with Lyon of 
Brigton and others, Phinhaven was tried for murder, but the jury 
very properly acquitted him, since the mains animus necessary to con- 
stitute that crime was clearly awanting. Dundas of Arniston was his 
counsel, and to his firmness in pressing upon the jury that they were 
judges both of the law and the fact, Phinhaven owed his acquittal. 

f This is a vigorous appeal to the loyalty of the nation in behalf 
of the exiled Prince, and the allusions, the sentiments, and the stile 
would betoken it a composition of Queen Anne's reign. With cha- 
racteristic naivete, the Ettrick Shepherd says, " I do not always 
understand what the bard means; but as he seems to have been an 


An age is past, the age is come, 

When we from bondage must be freed ; 
Hundreds have met an unjust doom, 

And right or slav'ry must succeed. 
Ye powers omnipotent, declare 

Your justice — guard the British throne — 
Protect the good, the righteous heir ; 

And to no stranger give the crown. 

The heavens their vengeance now begin ; 

The thunder's dart shall havock bring : 
Repent, repent that hell-born sin ! 

Call home, call home your injur'd king ! 
His great progenitors have sway'd 

Your sceptre nigh the half of time, 
And his lov'd race will be obey'd, 

Till time its latest ages claim. 

O think, ye daring Scots, what right 

This long succession does entail ; 
Think how your gallant fathers fought, 

That Fergus' line might never fail. 
Let England's worthies blush to own, 

How they their only prince withstood 
Who now remains to grace the throne 

Of their Edwards' and their Henrys' blood. 

But glorious James, of royal stem, 
Your God's vicegerent and your king, 

Your peace, your all combin'd in him, 

Haste, Britons, home your monarch bring ; 

ingenious though passionate writer, I take it for granted that he 
knew perfectly well himself what he would have been at, so I have 
not altered a word from the manuscript." This same manuscript 
the Shepherd had from Sir Walter Scott. 


James, Heaven's darling and its care, 
The brightest youth of mortal frame, 

For virtue, beauty, form, and air : 

Call home your rightful king, for shame ! 


Mackintosh was a soldier brave, 

And did most gallantly behave, 

When into Northumberland he came, 

With gallant men of his own name. 

Then Derwentwater he did say, 

That five hundred guineas he would lay, 

To beat the militia man to man ; 

But they prov'd cowards, and off they ran. 

Then the Earl of Mar did vow and swear, 

That English ground if he came near, 

Ere the right should starve, and the wrong 

should stand, 
He'd blow them all to some foreign land. 
Lord Derwentwater he rode away, 
Well mounted on his dapple gray ; 
But soon he wish'd him home with speed, 
Fearing they were all betray'd indeed. 

* This is a mere street ballad, but it is an excellent specimen of 
the vulgar minstrelsy which speaks so powerfully to the understand- 
ings of the more ignorant portion of the populace. It has also the 
merit of being a good descriptive account, in rhyme, of the Jacobite 
expedition into England, which ended so fatally for the rebels at 
Preston, where the pusillanimity of Foster, who commanded them 
under a commission from the Earl of Mar, caused them to surrender, 
while they might have effected an honourable retreat, and thereby 
escaped till at least the day of vengeance had past. The ballad ac- 
cuses Foster of treason to the cause, but without sufficient grounds ; 
unless, indeed, the circumstance of his making his escape with the 
connivance of those in power, may be construed into a presumption 
of guilt. Old M'Intosh of Borlam, however, also escaped, and yet he k 


" Adzounds !' cried Foster, " never fear, 

For Brunswick's army is not near ; 

And if they dare come, our valour we'll show. 

And give them a total overthrow." 

But Derwentwater soon he found 

That they were all enclos'd around. 

" Alack !" he cried, " for this cowardly strife, 

How many brave men shall lose their life !" 

Old Mackintosh he shook his head, 
When he saw his Highland lads lie dead ; 
And he wept — not for the loss of those, 
But for the success of their proud foes. 
Then Mackintosh unto Wills * he came, 
Saying, " I have been a soldier in my time, 
And ere a Scot of mine shall yield, 
We'll all lie dead upon the field." 

" Then go your ways," he made reply ; 
Either surrender, or you shall die, 
Go back to your own men in the town : 
What can you do when left alone ?" 
Mackintosh is a gallant soldier, 
With his musket over his shoulder. 
" Every true man points his rapier ; 
But, d — n you, Foster, you are a traitor !" 

Lord Derwentwater to Foster said, 

" Thou hast ruin'd the cause, and all betray'd ; 

the hero of the Song throughout. He commanded the Highlanders 
sent by the Earl of Mar to join the Jacobites who rose simultaneously 
in the south, while the clans rose in the north. He was a brave 
officer, and possessed the full confidence of his men. The govern- 
ment was highly enraged at his escape, and offered a great reward 
for his apprehension, which is particularly alluded to in the last verse 
of the Song. 

* General Wills, who commanded the Government forces. 


For thou didst vow to stand our friend, 
But hast prov'd traitor in the end. 
Thou brought us from our own country ; 
We left our homes and came with thee ; 
But thou art a rogue and a traitor both, 
And hast broke thy honour and thy oath." 

Lord Derwentwater to Litchfield did ride, 

With armed men on every side ; 

But still he swore by the point of his sword, 

To drink a health to his rightful lord. 

Lord Derwentwater he was condemn'd, 

And led unto his latter end ; 

And though his lady did plead fidl sore, 

They took his life, they could get no more. 

Brave Derwentwater he is dead ; 
From his fair body they took the head ; 
But Mackintosh and his friends are fled, 
And they'll set the hat on another head. 
And whether they are gone beyond the sea, 
Or if they abide in this country, 
Though our king would give ten thousand pound, 
Old Mackintosh will scorn to be found. 


Let every honest British soid 

With cheerful loyalty be gay ; 
With James's health we'll crown the bowl, 

And celebrate this glorious day. 

* This is a very warm effusion of ultra Jacobite loyalty. What is 
wanting in poetical spirit on the part of the writer, is well made up 
in political wrath. He seems to have been a bitter hater of Whigs 
and whiggery. Hogg says he had it from a collection of simila* re- 


Let no one care a fig 

For the vile rebellious Whig, 

That insect of usurpation ; 
Fill a bumper every one 
To the glorious tenth of June, 

And a speedy restoration. 

What though the German renegades 

With foreign yokes oppress us ? 
Though George our property invades, 

And Stuart's throne possesses ? 
Yet remember Charles's fate, 
Who roam'd from state to state, 

Kept out by a fanatic nation, 
Till at length came a day 
Call'd the twenty-ninth of May, 

Still renown'd for a true restoration. 

Britons, be loyal once again, 

Ye've a precedent before ye ; 
This day, crown'd with a Stuart's reign, 
Shall blaze in future story. 

Be resolute and brave, 

Your country ye may save, 
If once ye dare to be loyal : 

Then at honesty's call 

Let us conquer or fall 
In the cause of our old line royal. 

What though th' usurper's cause prevail ? 

Renew your constitution, 
Expel that race, the curst entail 

Of Whiggish revolution. 

lies In the possession of young Steuart of Dalguise, and suppose* that 
it must have been written about the time that the Chevalier de St. 
George came over and was crowned at Scoon. 


Be bought and sold no more 

By a sordid German power ; 
Is it like our old proud-hearted nation ? 

Let King James then be the toast, 

May he bless our longing coast 
"With a speedy and a just restoration. 


Let misers tremble o'er their wealth, 

And starve amidst their riches ; 
Let statesmen in deceit grow old, 

And pine with envious wishes. 
But we whom no vain motives sway, 

Our mirth from wine arising, 
Our nobler passions will obey, 

Both knaves and fools despising. 

Let them lament who have betrayed 

Their king and bleeding nation ; 
The rich they always are afraid, 

However high their station. 
But we will chant, and we will sing, 

And toast our bonny lasses : 
To all we. wish, and all we want, 

We'll circulate our glasses. 

Fill up once more the sparkling bowL 

The brave feel no disaster, 
No bold informer dare control, 

Here's a health to our lawful master. 

* If there be not much spirit here, there is rather more refine- 
ment than usually marks bacchanalian specimens of Jacobite song, 


Our loyalty we will maintain, 
And drink to every true heart ; 

We'll ever honour and obey 
The royal race of Stuart. 


My heart is sair, I daurna tell, 
My heart is sair, for somebody ; 
I will walk a winter's night, 
For a sight o' somebody. 

hon for somebody ! 
O hey for somebody ! 

1 wad do — what wad I not, 

For the sake o' somebody ? 

If somebody were come again, 
Then somebody maun cross the main, 
And ilka ane will get his ain, 
And I will see my somebody. 
O hon, &c. 

What need I kame my tresses bright 
Or why should coal or candle-light 
E'er shine in my bower day or night, 
Since gane is my dear somebody ? 
O hon, &c. 

The verses are sentimental and pleasing throughout. Those who 
still observe the good old custom of giving toasts and sentiments after 
dinner, will discover from this Song that " All we wish and all we 
want," was originally a political double entendre. 

* The air to which these verses are sung is familiar to every Scot- 
tish ear, and delightful to all tastes, whether cultivated or not. The 
Song would hardly be recognised as a Jacobite one, were it not found 
in old collections of that description. 


Oh ! I hae grutten mony a day 
For ane that's banish'd far away : 
I canna sing, and maunna say, 
How sair I grieve for somebody. 
O hon, &c. 


Though Geordie reigns in Jamie's stead, 

I'm griev'd, yet scorn to shaw that ; 
I'll ne'er look down, nor hang my head 

To rebel Whig, for a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 

And thrice as muckle's a' that, 
He's far beyond Dumblane the night, 

That shall be king for a' that. 

He wears a broad sword by his side, 

And weel he kens to draw that ; 
The target and the Highland plaid, 

The shoulder belt, and a' that : 
A bonnet bound with ribbons blue, 

The white cockade, and a' that, 
The tartan hose and philabeg, 

Which makes us blythe, for a' that. 

The Whigs think a' that weal is won, 
But, faith, they maunna fa' that ; 

* As the air of this Song is one which even a tuneless voice may 
sing, and exceedingly pleasing from its ranting familiarity, it has 
always been popular for the expression of political sentiment. In the 
Jacobite times it was peculiarly so ; but it afterwards acquired ten- 
fold influence, when, during the French revolutionary period, Burns 
adapted to it his admirable Song of " A man's a man for a' that." 
This latter production became the sort of political creed in verse of 
the whole democratic party, and it is believed was one of the main 
causes of the poet's preferment being stopped. 


They think our loyal hearts dung down, 
But we'll be blytbe, for a' that. 

For still we trust that Providence 
Will us relieve from a' that, 

And send us hame our gallant prince ; 
Then we'll be blythe, for a' that. 

But O what will the Whigs say syne, 

When they're mistaken in a' that ? 
When Geordie maun fling by the crown. 

And hat, and wig, and a' that ? 
The flames will get baith hat and wig, 

As often they've done a' that* ; 
Our Highland lad will get the crown, 

And we'll be blythe, for a' that. 

Then will your braw militia lads 

Rewarded be for a' that, 
When they fling by their black cockades ; 

A hellish badge I ca' that. 
As night is banish'd by the day, 

The white shall drive awa that ; 
The sun shall then his beams display, 

And we'll be blythe, for a' that. 


" Whare gang ye, thou silly auld carle, 
And what do ye carry there ?" 

* The flames will get baith hat and rvig, is in allusion to a well 
known ludicrous custom of King George I. ; who, when suddenly irri- 
tated, was wont to pull offhis wig, and throw it with great rage into 
the fire. 

fThis ballad is founded on fact. A young gentleman of the family 
of Maxwell, being an adherent of the Stuarts, suffered in the genera! 
calamity of his friends. After seeing his paternal house reduced to 


" I'm gaun to the hill- side, thou sodger man, 
To shift my sheep their lair." 

Ae stride or twa took the silly auld carle, 

And a gude lang stride took he : 
" I trow thou be a feck aidd carle, 

Will ye shaw the way to me ?" 

And he has gane wi' the silly auld carle 

Adown by the green-wood side : 
"Light down and gang, thou sodger man, 

For here ye canna ride." 

ashes ; his father killed in its defence ; his only sister dying with 
grief for her father and three brothers slain; he assumed the habit 
of an old shepherd, and in one of his excursions singled out an indi- 
vidual who had been instrumental in the ruin of his family. After 
upbraiding him for his cruelty, he slew him in single combat. The 
period of the civil wars was productive of numerous acts of similar 
heroism and retaliatory justice. Of those which distinguished the 
later Jacobite times the following may be given as an afFecting speci- 
men. In the rising of 1745, a party of Cumberland's dragoons was 
hurrying through Nithsdale in search of rebels. Hungry and fatigued 
they stopped at a lone widow's house and demanded refreshment. 
Her son, a youth of sixteen, dressed up a dish of lang kale and bulter 
for them, and the good woman brought new milk, which she told 
them was all her stock. One of the party enquired with seeming 
kindness how she managed to live. " Indeed," said she, " the cow 
and the kale yard, wi' God's blessing's a' my mnilen." Without 
another word being spoken, the heartless trooper then rose 
and with his sabre killed the cow and destroyed all the kale. The 
poor woman and her son were thus in a moment thrown destitute 
upon the world. She herself soon died of a broken heart, and the 
disconsolate youth wandered away beyond the enquiry of friends or 
the search of compassion. In the continental war which followed 
some years after, when the British army had gained a great and signal 
victory, some of the soldiery were one day making merry with wine, 
and recounting their exploits. A dragoon roared out, " I once 
starved a Scotch witch in Nithsdale.— -I killed her cow and destroyed 
her greens ; but," added he, " she could live for all that, on her God, 
as she said." " And don't you rue it ?" cried a young soldier, 
starting up at the moment, " Don't you rue it ?" " Rue it ! rue 
what?" said the other; "Why should I rue aught like that?" 
" Then, by Heaven, you shall rue it," exclaimed the youth, unsheath- 
ing his sword, " that woman was my mother ! Draw, you brutal 
villain, draw !" They fought on the instant. The youth passed hi* 


He drew the reins o' his bonny grey steed, 

And lightly down he sprang ; 
Of the comliest scarlet was his weir coat, 

Whare gowden tassels hang. 

He has thrown aff his plaid, the silly auld carle, 
An' his bonnet frae boon his bree ; 

An' wha was it but the young Maxwell ! 
And his gude broad sword drew he. 

" Thou killed my father, thou vile Southron ! 

An' ye killed my brethren three ! 
Whilk brake the heart o' my ae sister, 

I lov'd as the light o' my e'e. 

" Draw out yere sword, thou vile Southron ! 

Red wat wi' the blood o' my kin ! 
That sword it crappit the bonniest flower 

E'er lifted its head to the sun ! 

" 4 There's ae sad stroke for my dear auld father I 
There's twa for my brethren three ! 

An' there's ane to thy heart for my ae sister, 
Wham I lov'd as the light o' my e'e !" 


Wae worth the time that I came here, 
To lay my fangs on Jamie's gear ! 

sword twice through the dragoon's body, and, while he turned him 
over in the throes of death, exclaimed, " Wretched man! had you but 
rued it, you should have only been punished by your God!" 

* This vulgar Song is ludicrously satirical of George I. and the 
Whigs, and must have been quite a bonne bouche for the rabble of 


For I had better staid at hame, 
Than now to bide sae muckle blame. 
But my base, poltroon, sordid mind, 
To greed o' gear was still inclin'd, 
Which gart me fell Count Koningsmark, 
For his braw claise and holland sark. 

When that was done, by slight and might 
I hitch'd young Jamie frae his right, 
And, without ony fear or dread, 
I took his house out-owre his head, 
Pack'd up his plenishing sae braw, 
And to a swine-sty turn'd his ha'. 
I connach'd a' I couldna tak, 
And left him naething worth a plack. 

But a' this couldna me content : 

I hang'd his tenants, seiz'd their rent : 

And to my shame it will be spoke, 

I harried a' his cotter-folk. 

But what am I the richer grown ? 

A curse comes aye wi' things that's stown ! 

I'm like to tine it a' belyve, 

For wrangous gear can never thrive. 

But care and wonder gars me greet, 
For ilka day wi' skaith I meet, 
And I maun hame to my ain craft : 
The thoughts o' this hae put me daft. 
But yet, ere sorrow break my heart, 
And Satan come to claim his part, 
To punish me for dreary sin, 
I'll leave some heirship to my kin. 

Ane aidd black coat, baith lang and wide, 
Wi' snishen barken'd like a hide, 


A skeplet hat, and plaiden hose, 

A jerkin, clartit a' wi' brose, 

A pair o' sheen that wants a heel, 

A periwig wad fleg the deil, 

A pair o' breeks that wants the doup, 

Twa cutties, and a timmer stoup. 

A mutchkin cog, twa rotten caps, 
Set o' the bink to keep the draps, 
Some cabbage growing i' the yard, 
Ane pig, ane pock, ane candle-sherd, 
A heap o' brats upo' the brae, 
Some tree-clouts and foul wisps o' strae. 
A rusty sword that lies there ben, 
Twa chickens and a clockin hen. 

A rickle o' peats out-owre the knowe, 
A gimmer, and a doddit yowe, 
A stirky, and a hummle cow, 
Twa grices, and my dear black sow, 
A rag to dight her filthy snout, 
A brecham, and a carding-clout, 
A bassie, and a bannock-stick : 
There's gear enough to make ye sick. 

Besides a mare that's blind and lame, 
That us'd to bear a cuckold hame, 
A thraw-crook, and a broken gaud : 
There's gear enough to put ye mad. 
A lang-kail-knife, an auld sheer-blade, 
A dibble, and a flauchter-spade. 
Tak part hereof, baith great and sma' ; 
Mine heirs, it weel becomes you a'. 

But yet, before that a' be done, 
There's something for my graceless son, 


That awkward ass, wi' filthy scouk ; 
My malison light on his bouk !* 
And farther, for his part o' gear, 
I leave the horns his dad did wear ; 
But yet I'd better leave the same 
To Whigs, to blaw my lasting shame. 

To the same Whigs I leave my curse, 
My guilty conscience, and toom purse : 
I hope my torments they will feel, 
When they gang skelpin to the deil. 
For to the times their creed they shape ; 
They girn, they glour, they scouk, and gape, 
As they wad gaunch to eat the starns. 
The muckle deil ding out their hams ! 

Wi' my twa Turks I winna sinder, 
For that wad my last turney hinder ; 
For baith can speer the nearest gate, 
And lead me in, though it be late, 
Where Oliver and Willie Buck 
Sit o'er the lugs in smeeky muck, 
Wi' hips sae het, and beins sae bare ; 
They'll e'en be blythe when Geordie's there. 

To Fisslerump and Kilmansack,f 
' Wha aft hae gart my curpin crack, 
To ilka Dutch and German jade, 
I leave my sceptre to their trade. 

« This -verse has a bitter allusion to the dissensions that reigned 
in George's family, in consequence of his jealousy of the queen and 
his well known dislike of his son. 

f The allusions in this and the following verse are obviously to 
George's german mistresses, mentioned in a former note. The " dar- 
ling sow"," is Madame Kilmansegge, and the " skrinkit witch," Ma- 
dame Schulemberg. George's taste in female beauty appears to have 
been truly German. The one was a mountain of fat and grease, the 
other was as lean as a dried herring. 


But O, my bonny darling sow, 
How sair my heart's to part wi' you, 
When I think on the happy days 
That we hae had 'mang fat and fleas. 

My darling, dauted, greasy dame, 
I leave thee fouth o' sin and shame, 
And ane deil's brander, when I'm gone, 
To fry thy sonsy hurdies on. 
But to my lean and shrinkit witch 
I leave damnation and the itch. 
To a' my friends, where'er they be, 
The curse of heav'n eternally. 


Where are the days that we hae seen, 
When Phoebus shone so bright, man ? 

How blythe and merry we hae been, 
When ev'ry ane gat right, man ! 

* This is a sort of historical recapitulation in rhyme of what the 
Jacobites held to be the political sins of the Whigs. It commences 
■with the Marquis of Montrose's wars against the Covenanters, and 
closes with the accession of George I. The principal events of the 
intermediate period are touched with spirit, but with true Jacobite 
virulence and party spleen. Graham of Claverhouse, and General 
Dalzell are of course described as heroes, though a thousand facts are 
on record, denoting both of them to have been ruthless, cold-hearted, 
political ruffians. The following instance with regard to Claverhouse, 
will be sufficiently conclusive on that point in the mind of every 
humane reader. — " One morning in those evil days, a man of the 
name of John Brown, having performed the worship of God in his 
family, was going with a spade in his hand to make ready some peat- 
ground. The mist being very dark, he knew not till the bloody 
Claverhouse compassed him with three troops of horse, brought him 
to his house, and there examined him, who, though he was a man of 
stammering speech, yet answered both distinctly and solidly; which 
made Claverhouse to examine those whom he had taken to be his 
guides through the muirs, if they had heard him preach ? They an- 
swered, No, no, he was never a preacher. To which he replied, ' If he 


But gloomy clouds do overshade, 

And spread wide over a', man ; 

Ill-boding comets blaze o'er-head. 

whurry Wbigs awa, man ! 

Now ill appears wi' face fu' bare, 

In high and low degree, man, 
And mid confusion every where, 

Which every ane may see, man. 
The blind are chosen for our guides ; 

1 fear we'll get a fa', man, 

There's nane need wonder though we slide. 
O whurry Whig awa, man ! 

has never preached, meikle has he prayed in his time.' He then said to 
John, ' Go to your prayers, for you shall immediately die.' When he 
was praying, Claverhouse interrupted him three times : One time 
that he interrupted him, he was praying that the Lord would spare 
a remnant, and not make a full end in the day of his anger. Cla- 
verhouse said, ' I gave you time to pray, and you are begun to 
preach :' he turned about on his knees, and said, ' Sir, you know 
neither the nature of prayer nor preaching that calls this preaching,' 
then continued without confusion. When ended, Claverhouse said, 
' Take good night of your wife and children.' His wife standing by 
with her children in her arms that she had brought forth to him, 
and another child of his first wife's, he came to her and said, ' Now, 
Marion, the day is come, that I told you would come, when I first 
spoke to you of marrying me.' She said, ' Indeed, John, I can wil- 
lingly part with you.' Then he said, ' This is all I desire ; I have no 
more to do but to die.' He kissed his wife and bairns, and wished 
purchased and promised blessings to be multiplied on them, and gave 
them his blessing. Claverhouse ordered six soldiers to shoot him; 
the most part of the bullets came upon his head, which scattered his 
brains upon the ground. Then said Claverhouse to the hapless 
widow, ' What thinkest thou of thy husband now, woman?' To 
which she answered, < I thought ever much of him, and now as 
much as ever.* He said, 'it were justice to lay thee beside him.' 
She replied, ' If ye were permitted, I doubt not but your cruelty 
would go that length ; but how will ye make answer for this morn- 
ing's work?' ' To man,' said he, ' I can be answerable j and, for 
God, I will take him in mine own hand.' Claverhouse mounted his 
horse, and left her with the corpse of her dead husband lying there ; 
she set the bairn on the ground, and gathered his brains, and tied up 
his head, and straighted his body, and covered him with her plaid, 


Of primitive simplicity 

Some in our church was left, man ; 
But now of truth and verity, 

Alas, we are bereft, man ! 
Rebellion's horns do loudly tout, 

Wi' whining tone, and blaw, man ; 
Yet deeds o' grace they leave without. 

O whurry Whigs awa, man ! 

New upstarts only now succeed, 

Our nation's misery, man ; 
We're bound in slavery heel to head, 

Yet deav'd wi' liberty, man. 
But when did e'er the Whigs prevail 

'Gainst liberty and law, man? 
At a' but treachery they fail. 

O whurry Whigs awa, man ! 

Montrose convened the gallant Graham, 

The loyal clans arose, man, 
To fight the Covenanter lambs, 

Wha did the right oppose, man. 
At Aldearn, Alford, and Kilsythe, 

Their bouks got mony a claw, man : 
The loyal hearts like sheep did drive 

The whurry Whigs awa, then. 

and sat down and wept over him. It being a very desert place, 
where never victual grew, and far from neighbours, it was some time 
before any friends came to her : the first that came was a very fit 
hand, that old singular Christian woman, in the Cummerhead, named 
Elizabeth Menzies, three miles distant, who had been tried with tbe 
violent death of her husband at Pentland, afterwards of two worthy 
sons, Thomas Weir, who was killed at Drumclog, and David Steel, 
who was suddenly shot afterwards when taken. The said Marion 
Weir, sitting upon her husband's grave, told me, that before that, she 
could see no blood but she was in danger to faint, and yet she was 
helped to be a witness to all this, without either fainting or confu- 
sion ; except when the shots were let off, her eyes were dazzled. His 


King Charlie being foully slain, 

For which thank Whiggery, man, 
Then Cromwell in his place did reign, 

The Whigs anointed he, man. 
That mushrom monarch Presbyt'ry 

Established by law, man, 
And overturn'd old Prelacy. 

O whurry Whigs awa, man ! 

King Charles the Second did resort 

Unto our loving isles, man ; 
His father's head took frae the port, 

And set up gley'd Argyle's, man. 
Abolish'd was the Covenant, 

He lik'd not it ava, man, 
But rear'd true kingly government. 

O whurry Whigs awa, man J 

The restless Whigs, with their intrigues, 

Themselves they did convene, man, 
At Pentland Hills and Bothwell Brigs, 

To fight against the king, man ; 
Till brave Dalyell came forth himsel, 

With loyal troops in raws, man, 
To try a match with powther and ball : 

Then saints turn'd windlestraws, man. 

The brave Dalyell stood i' the field, 
And fought for king and crown, man ; 

Made rebel Whigs perforce to yield, 
And dang the traitors down, man. 

corpse was buried at the end of the house where he was slain."— 
Peden's Life. 

Hogg complains of the discrepancies which he met with in different 
copies of this ballad, of which he says he had at least twenty. As he 
very justly remarks, it is obvious that it has been composed at dif- 
ferent periods, and by different hands. 


Then some ran here, and some ran there, 
And some in field did fa', man, 

And some to hang he didna spare, 
Condemned by their ain law, man. 

Yet that would not the carles please. 

Did you not hear the news, man, 
How, at Drumclog, behind the bog, 

They ga'e the deil his dues, man ? 
With blessed word and rusty sword 

They wrought a wondrous feat, man j 
For ten to ane they wan the day, 

And wow but they were great, man ! 

But, wae's my heart ! it was nae sport, 

Though they were set on ill, man, 
To see them fa' like silly sheep, 

That day on Bothwell Hill, man. 
The royal Duke his men forsook, 

And o'er the field did ride, man, 
And cried aloud to spare their blude, 

Whatever might betide, man. 

But Colonel Graham of noble fame, 

Had sworn to have his will, man, 
No man to spare in armour there, 

While man and horse could kill, man. 
O then the Whigs from Bothwell Brigs 

Were led like dogs to die, man : 
In Heaven's might they couldna fight, 

But rais'd a horrid cry, man. 

By hill and dale they gart them skale, 
It's there to bide a blink, man, 

Till in sic case, to their disgrace, 
They rais'd a dolefu' stink, man. 


Their necks were cropt but fear or doubt, 
Their malice prov'd their fa', man, 

While every honest heart cried out, 
" O whurry Whigs awa, man!" 

Next we gat owre an Orange king, 

That play'd wi' parties baith, man ; 
A hogan-mogan foreign thing, 

That wrought a world o' skaith, man. 
When he came owre our rights to see, 

His father, friend, and a', man, 
By his Dutch guards he drove to sea, 

Then swore he ran awa, man. 

The fifth day of November he 

Did land upon our coast, man ; 
But those who lived his reign to see, 

Of it they did not boast, man. 
Seven years of famine did prevail, 

The people hopeless grew, man : 
But dearth and death did us assail, 

And thousands overthrew, man. 

But Willie's latter end did come ; 

He broke his collar-bone, man. 
We chose another, dainty Anne, 

And set her on the throne, man. 
O then we had baith meal and malt, 

And plenty over a', man ; 
We had nae scant o' sin nor saint, 

O whurry Whigs awa, man ! 

We then sought out a German thing 

Call'd George, and brought him here, man ; 

And for this beggar cuckold king 
Sore taxes we maun bear, man. 


Our blood is shed without remead, 
Our rights are scorn'd at a', man j 

For beggars boast and rule the roast. 
O whurry Whigs awa, man. 

Our fathers griev'd are with this yoke, 

The time it's drawing near, man, 
That vengeance breeds for tyrants' heads, 

The land no more can bear, man. 
May God preserve our rightfu' king 

From traitors' cursed claw, man ; 
Or lang we may have cause to sing 

" O whurry Whigs awa, man !" 


Once on a morning of sweet recreation, 

I heard a fair lady a-making her moan, 
With sighing and sobbing, and sad lamentation, 

Aye singing, " My Blackbird for ever is 

flown ! [pleasure, 

He's all my heart's treasure, my joy, and my 

So justly, my love, my heart follows thee ; 
And I am resolved, in foul or fair weather, 

To seek out my Blackbird, wherever he be. 

" I will go, a stranger to peril and danger, 
My heart is so loyal in every degree ; 

* In this production, though evidently a mere string of rhymes for 
the street, the allusions are expressed with somewhat more caution 
than usual in Jacobite songs. Probably it was with a view to save 
the poor ballad singers from castigation at the hands of the Whig 
authorities. Few ballads have been more popular than this, but 
from what cause it is difficult to conjecture, unless we ascribe it to 
the mere common place character of the verse which made it the bet- 
ter understood by the vulgar. 


For lie's constant and kind, and courageous in 

Good luck to my Blackbird, wherever lie be ! 
In Scotland he's loved and dearly approved, 

In England a stranger he seemeth to be ; 
But his name I'll advance in Britain or France. 

Good luck to my Blackbird, wherever he be. 

" The birds of the forest are all met together, 

The turtle is chosen to dwell with the dove, 
And I am resolved, in foid or fair weather, 

Once in the spring-time to seek out my love. 
But since fickle Fortune, which still proves un- 
certain, m [me, 

Hath caused this parting between him and 
His right I'll proclaim, and who dares me blame ? 

Good luck to my Blackbird, wherever he be !" 


Over the hills, an' far away, 
It's over the hills, an' far away, 
O'er the hills, an' o'er the sea, 
The wind has blawn my plaid frae me. 
My tartan plaid, my ae good sheet, 
That keepit me frae wind an' weet, 
An' held me bien baith night an' day, 
Is over the hills, and far away. 

There was a wind, it cam to me, 
Over the south, an' over the sea, . 

* As in the preceding production, the Jacobite allusion is here 
rather darkly expressed, and only breaks out distinctly in the last 
verse. The air of this Song is the popular one of " Over the seas and 
far atva." 


An' it has blawn my corn and hay, 
Over the hills an' far away. 
It blew my corn, it blew my gear, 
It neither left me kid nor steer, 
An' blew my plaid, my only stay, 
Over the hills and far away. 

But though 't has left me bare indeed, 
And blawn my bonnet off my head, 
There's something hid in Highland brae 
It hasna blawn my sword away. 
Then o'er the hills, an' over the dales, 
Over all England, an' thro' Wales, 
The braidsword yet shall bear the sway 
Over the hills an' far away. 


" Mac Garadh ! Mac Garadh ! red race of the 

Ho ! gather ho ! gather like hawks to the prey. 
Mac Garadh, Mac Garadh, Mac Garadh come 

The flame 's on the beacon, the horn 's on the 


* This composition was first published by J. H. Allan, Esq. with the 
following observations : — " It is copied from an odd leaf pasted into an 
old MS. history of the Hays. It was set to the family war-march of the 
Earls of Errol, and has never, that I am aware, been hitherto print- 
ed. From the period and circumstances in which the greater part 
was written, it could never have obtained great circulation. Shreds 
of the stanzas are to be met with in the memory of some of the very 
old people of Perthshire, but I believe the composition is quite un- 
known in its perfect state. It is composed in imitation of an High- 
land pibroch, the most correct of which imitate in their measure 
and cadence the call of the gathering, the trampling of the march, 
the rush of the charge, the confusion of the battle, and the wailing 


The standard of Errol unfolds its white breast, 
And the falcon of Loncartie stirs in her nest. 
Come away, come away, come to the tryst, 
Come in Mac Garadh from east and from west. 

Mac Garadh ! Mac Garadh ! Mac Garadh come 
forth, [north, 

Come from your bowers from south and from 
Come in all Gowrie, Kinoul, and Tweedale, 
Drumelzier and Naughton come locked in your 

Come Stuart, come Stuart, set up thy white rose, 
Killour and Buckcleugh bring thy bills and thy 

Come in Mac Garadh, come armed for the fray, 
Wide is the war-cry, and dark is the day. 


The Hay ! the Hay ! the Hay ! the Hay ! * 
Mac Garadh is coming, give way ! give way ! 

of the lament. The two long stanzas of the Gathering of the Hays 
are said to he of considerable antiquity: of the first I have seen a 
version in Gaelic ; but of what date, or if the original of, or a trans- 
lation from the English copy, it is impossible to determine. The 
second stanza cannot, however, be older than the year 1746 ; for 
Hay of "y ester did not receive the title of Tweedale till that period. 
But it is probable that the part of the song in question was composed 
about the same time, from the mention made of Killour and Buc- 
cleugh, which were then the nearest branch and alliance of the chief's 
house, and for that reason no doubt were the first chosen to be men- 
tioned after the chief and highest chieftain of the family in the call 
of its friends. The Killour was the nearest branch of the house of 
Errol from 1585 to 1674 ; and about 1630, Mary, fourth daughter 
of the ninth earl, married Walter, Earl of Buccleugh. The first 
Drumelzier was a son of the first Earl of Tweedale, and received his 
lands from his father about 163S. The rest of the Gathering after 
the two first stanzas is said to have been written by Captain James 
Hay in 1715, when the Earl of Errol attended the erecting of Prince 
James's standard in the braes of Mar. I have altered nothing of the 
original copy, but a few words necessary to smoothen the i 

of some of the lines." T. H. A. 

* The war-cries of ancient families were often their own 


The Hay ! the Hay ! the Hay ! the Hay ! 
Mac Garadh is coming, give way. 
Mac Garadh is coming, clear the way, 
Mac Garadh is coming, hurra ! hurra ! 
Mac Garadh is coming, clear the way, 
Mac Garadh is coming, hurra ! 

Mac Garadh is coming, like beam of war ; 
The blood-red shields are glinting far ; 
The Stuart is up, his banner white 
Is flung to the breeze like flake of light. 
Dark as the mountain's heather wave, 
The rose and the misle are coming brave, 
Bright as the sun which gilds its thread, 
King James's tartan is flashing red, 
Upon them Mac Garadh bill and bow, 
Cry, Hollow Mac Garadh ! hollow ! hollow* 

Mac Garadh is coming ! like stream from the 

Mac Garadh is coming, lance, claymore, and bill, 
Like thunder's wide rattle 
Is mingled the battle, 

With cry of the falling, and shout of the charge, 
The lances are flashing, 
The claymores are clashing, 
And ringing the arrows on buckler and targe. 

That of the Douglasses was, " A Douglass ! a Douglass !" and that 
used by the Hays at one period was, " the Hay ! the Hay I" The 
war-cry was always hereditary to the family ; but, like the crest, it 
was sometimes disused or changed by the humour of a chief. 

* " Holleu, Mac Garadh !" was the most ancient slughorn or war- 
cry of the Hays of Errol, but it is said to have been laid aside at a 
very distant period. 


Mac Garadh is coming! the banners are shaking, 

The war-tide is turning, the phalanx is breaking, 

The Southrons are flying, 

" Saint George !" vainly crying, [borne down, 

And Brunswick's white horse on the field is 

The red cross is shattered, 

The red roses scattered, [crown. 

And bloody and torn the white plume in its 

Far shows the dark field like the streams of 

Cairn Gorm, 
Wild, broken, and red in the skirt of the storm ■ 

Give the spur to the steed, 

Give the war-cry its holleu, 

Cast loose to wild speed, 

Shake the bridle, and follow. 

The rout's in the battle, 

Like blast in the cloud, 

The flight's mingled rattle 

Peals thickly and loud. 
Then holleu! Mac Garadh! holleu, Mac Garadh! 
Holleu! holleu! holleu, Mac Garadh! 


God bless our lord the king ! 
God save our lord the king ! 
God save the king ! 

* This is the original of the Anthem which is now so popular as 
applicable to the reigning monarch. The music is of a much ear. 



Make him victorious, 
Happy, and glorious, 
Long to reign over us : 
God save the king ! 

God send a royal heir ! 
God bless the royal pair, 

Both king and queen ; 
That from them we may see 
A royal progeny, 
To all posterity 

Ever to reign ! 

God bless the prince, I pray, 
God bless the prince, I pray, 

Charlie I mean ; 
That Scotland we may see 
Freed from vile Presbyt'ry, 
Both George and his Feckie. * 

Even so. Amen. 

lier date than the words. Hogg ascribes it to Henry Carey, but the 
probability is, that the composition of it was even earlier than his 
time. The words belong to the reign of George II. 

• Feckie was the cant name given to Frederick, Prince of Wales, 
son of George II. He lived on the worst terms with both his father 
and mother. Several curious anecdotes to that effect, demonstrating 
his extreme folly and imbecility, are detailed by Horace Walpole, who 
was intimately connected with the court at that time. The follow- 
ing whimsical Epitaph on this Prince was found among the papers of 
the Honourable Miss Rollo by the same gossiping author : — 

Here lies Prince Fede, 

Gone down among the dead. 

Had it been his father, 

We had much rather ; 

Had it been his mother, 

Better than any other; 

Had it been his sister, 

Few would have missed her ; 

Had it been the whole generation. 

Ten times better for the nation ; 

But since 'tis only Fede, 

There's no more to be said. 


God bless the happy hour ! 
May the Almighty Power 

Make all things well ; 
That the whole progeny 
Who are in Italy 
May soon and suddenly 

Come to Whitehall. 

God bless the church, I pray, 
God save the church, I pray, 

Pure to remain, 
Free from all Whiggery, 
And Whigs' hypocrisy, 
Who strive maliciously 

Her to defame. 

Here's to the subjects all, 

God send them, great and small, 

Firmly to stand, 
That woidd call home the king 
Whose is the right to reign : 
This is the only thing 

Can save the land. 


Britons, who dare to claim 
That great and glorious name, 
Rouse at the call ! 

* This is another specimen of Jacobite verses to the tune of the 
King's Anthem. It would appear that the same thing occurred then 
as now, in the adaptation of new words to the music of this Anthem. 
The verses were always unworthy of the air. 


See English honour fled, 
Corruption's influence spread, 
Slavery raise its head, 
And freedom fall ! 

Church, king, and liberty, 
Honour and property, 

All are betray'd : 
Foreigners rule the land, 
Our blood and wealth command, 
Obstruct, with lawless hand, 

Justice and trade. 

Shall an usurper reign, 
And Britons hug the chain ? 

That we'll deny. 
Then let us all unite 
To retrieve James's right ; 
For church, king, and laws we'll light 

Conquer or die. 

Join in the defence 

Of James our lawful prince 

And native king : 
Then shall true greatness shine, 
Justice and mercy join, 
Restor'd by Stuart's line, 

Virtue's great spring. 

Down with Dutch politics, 
Whigs, and all fanatics, 
The old Rump's cause !* 

* This seems a shrewd allusion to the policy of William in keeping 
fair with his English subjects, while he was advancing the interests of 
his friends in Holland. The Rump Parliament, in Cromwell's time, 
is perfectly understood. 


Recall your injur'd prince, 
Drive Hanoverians hence, 
Such as rule here against 
All English laws. 

Borne on the wings of fame, 
Charles's heroic name 

All his foes dread. 
He'll from his father's throne 
Pull the usurper down ; 
Glorious success shall crown 

His sacred head. 


Come, here's to the knights of the true royal oak, 

Whose hearts still are loyal, and firm as a rock, 

Who will fight to the last for their country and 

king, [the ring. 

Let the health of our heroes pass quick round 

Come, let us be jovial, social, and free ; 

Come join hand in hand, in full chorus with 

me: [land, 

God bless Charlie Stuart, the pride of our 

And send him safe o'er to his own native 

strand ! 

My noble companions, be patient a while, 
And we'll soon see him back to our brave Bri- 
tish isle ; 
And he that for Stuart and right will not stand, 
May smart for the wrong by the Highlander's 
Come, let us be jovial, &c. [brand. 

* The Ettrick Shepherd commends this Song for the beauty of the 


Though Hanover now over Britain bears sway, 
The day of his glory is wearing away. 
His minions of slavery may march at his tail ; 
For, God with the righteous, and who shall 
prevail ? 

Come, let us be jovial, &c. 

And when James again shall be placed on the 

All mem'ry of ills we have borne shall be gone. 
No tyrant again shall set foot on our shore, 
But all shall be happy and blest as before. 
Then let us be j ovial, social, and free ; 
Lay your hands on your hearts, and sing 
chorus with me : [confound, 

God prosper King James, and the German 
And may none but true Britons e'er rule 
British ground. 


How lang shall our land thus suffer distresses, 
Whilst traitors, and strangers, and tyrants op- 
press us ? [nation, 
How lang shall our old, and once brave warlike 
Thus tamely submit to a base usurpation ? 

tune to which it is usually sung. He had the words from the col- 
lection of Mr. Hardy of Glasgow. 

* Song- writing is a sort of stray minstrelsy, and it is not often, 
except in the higher class of lyrics, that the writers of them are 
known. Of this Song, however, we are enabled to say who was the 
author. It was William Meston, of Midmar in Aberdeenshire, some 
time preceptor to the young Earl Marshall, and his brother, the cele- 
brated Marshall Keith. By their interest, he was promoted to the 
professorship of Philosophy in Marischall College, but he lost it in 
consequence of following their fortunes in 1715. After the battle of 
Sheriffmuir, till the act of indemnity was passed, he lurked with a 


Thus must we be sad, whilst the traitors are 

Till we get a sight of our ain bonny laddie. 
Thus must we be sad, whilst the traitors are 

Till we get a sight of our ain bonny laddie. 

How lang shall we lurk, how lang shall we lan- 
With faces dejected, and hearts full of anguish ? 
How lang shall the Whigs, perverting all reason, 
Call honest men knaves, and loyalty treason ? 
Thus must we be sad, whilst the traitors are 

Till we get a sight of our ain bonny laddie. 
Thus must we be sad, &c. 

O Heavens, have pity ! with favour present us ; 
Rescue us from strangers that sadly torment us, 
From Atheists, and Deists, and Whiggish 

opinions ; 
Our king return back to his rightful dominions : 
Then rogues shall be sad, and honest men vaudie, 
When the throne is possess'd by our ain bonny 

Then rogues shall be sad, &c. [laddie. 

Our vales shall rejoice, our mountains shall 

flourish ; 
Our church, that's oppressed, our monarch will 

nourish ; 

few fugitive associates, for whose amusement he wrote several bur- 
lesque poems, to which he gave the title of Mother Grim's Tales. 
The Countess of Elgin supported him during the decline of his latter 
days, till he removed to Aberdeen, where he died of a languishing 
distemper. He was a man of wit and pleasantry in conversation, and 
of considerable attainments in classical and mathematical know- 


Our land shall be glad, but the Whigs shall be 
sorry, [glory. 

When the king gets his own, and Heaven the 

The rogues shall be sad, but the honest men 
vaudie, [laddie. 

When the throne is possess'd by our ain bonnie 
The rogues shall be sad, &c. 


Wha will ride wi' gallant Murray ? 

Wha will ride wi' Geordie's sel ? 
He's the flow'r o' a' Glenisla, 

And the darlin o' Dunkel'. 
See the white rose in his bonnet ! 

See his banner o'er the Tay ! 
His gude sword he now has drawn it, 

And has flung the sheath away. 

Every faithful Murray follows ; 

First of heroes ! best of men ! 
Every true and trusty Stewart 

Blythely leaves his native glen. 

* This is one of the first Songs which gave note of preparation 
for the rising in the year 1745. The hero of it was Lord George 
Murray, fifth son of the first Duke of Atholl. He and his brother 
the Marquis of Tullibardine had been engaged in the rebellion of 
1715, but after the battle of Glenshiel they escaped abroad. Having 
passed several years as an officer in the Sardinian service, Lord George 
applied for and obtained a pardon. He then returned to Britain, 
and was presented to the King, but ineffectually solicited a commis- 
sion in his army. It was probably that refusal which afterwards 
prompted him to side with the Pretender. Joining Prince Charles's 
standard at Perth, in September, 1745, he was appointed Lieutenant- 
General of his forces, acted as such at the battles of Prestonpans, 
Falkirk, and Culloden, marched into England with them, and 
brought up their rear in their retreat from thence. He was at- 
tainted of high treason by act of Parliament, but escaped to the 
Continent. On his arrival at Rome, in 1747, he was received with 


Athol lads are lads of honour, 
Westland rogues are rebels a' : 

When we come within their border, 
We may gar the Campbells claw. 

Menzies he's our friend and brother ; 

Gask and Strowan are nae slack ! 
Noble Perth has ta'en the field, 

And a' the Drummonds at his back. 
Let us ride wi' gallant Murray, 

Let us fight for Charlie's crown ; 
From the right we'll never sinder, 

Till we bring the tyrants down. 

Mackintosh, the gallant soldier, 

Wi' the Grahams and Gordons gay, 
They have ta'en the field of honour, 

Spite of all their chiefs could say. 
Bend the musket, point the rapier, 

Shift the brog for Lowland shoe, 
Scour the durk, and face the danger ; 

Mackintosh has all to do. 

great distinction by Prince Charles, who fitted up an apartment for 
him in his Palace, and introduced him to the Pope. He died at 
Medenblinck, in Holland, llth October, 1760- 

The air to which this Song is usually sung is a very fine one, and 
has been supposed to be exclusively a highland melody, but Hogg 
asserts that it has been familiar to the Borderers for ages, to a Song 

O that 1 had ne'er been married, 

I had ne'er had ony care ! 
Now I've gotten wife an' bairns, 

An' they cry " crowdy" ever mair." 
Crowdy ance, an' crowdy twice, 

An* crowdy three times i' the day, 
An' ye crowdy ony mair 

Ye'll crowdy a' my meal away. 

The Border name of the tune of course is ' crowdy.' In Strath- 
more it is called ' the Atholl Gathering.' 



Come along, my brave clans, 

There's nae friends sae staunch and true ; 
Come along, my brave clans, 

There's nae lads sae leal as you. 
Come along, Clan-Donuil, 

Frae 'mang your birks and heather braes. 
Come with bold Macalister, 

Wilder than his mountain raes. 

Gather, gather, gather, 

From Loch Morer to Argyle ; 
Come from Castle Tuirim, 

Come from Moidart and the Isles. 
Macallan is the hero 

That will lead you to the field. 
Gather, bold Siolallain, 

Sons of them that never yield. 

* This is the translation of a genuine Highland song, which was 
communicated to the Ettrick shepherd, by a lady of the race of the 
Macdonnells. He concludes that the principal chieftains referred to 
in it are Glengarry, Clan.Ronald, and Keppoch, and with regard to 
this last he makes the following remarks : — ." There is no circum- 
stance in the fates of the Highlanders, occasioned to them by the re- 
bellion, for which I lament so much, as the extinction of this brave 
and loyal chief and his clan, whose names are now a blank in the 
lands of their fathers. Keppoch could once have raised 500 men at 
a few days' warning, and never was slack when his arm was needed, 
although his hand was something like Ishmael's of old, for he was 
generally at loggerheads with his neighbours, especially the Clan- 
Chattan, whom he once beat, with their chief, the laird of M'Intosh, 
at their head; cutting a great part of their superior army to pieces, 
and forcing the laird, whom he took prisoner, to renounce his claim 
to extensive possessions, which Keppoch originally held of him. Kep- 
poch was indeed too brave, and too independent ; and it proved his 
family's ruin. When admonished once of the necessity of getting re- 
gular charters to his lands from government, of which he never had 
any, " No," said Keppoch, " I shall never hold lands that I cannot 
hold otherwise than by a sheep>s hide." Keppoch trusted still to his 
claymore; but the day of it was past. " Othello's occupation was 
gone !>» On the restoration of the forfeited estates, Keppoch, having 
no rights to show for his extensive lands, lost them ; a circumstance 


Gather, gather, gather, 

Gather from Lochaber glens : 
Mac-Hic-Rannail calls you ; 

Come from Taroph, Roy, and Spean. 
Gather, brave Clan-Donuil, 

Many sons of might you know ; 
Lenochan's your brother, 

Auchterechtan and Glencoe. 

Gather, gather, gather, 

'Tis your prince that needs your arm : 
Though Macconnel leaves you, 

Dread no danger or alarm, 
Come from field and foray, 

Come from sickle and from plough, 
Come from cairn and correi, 

From deer-wake and driving too. 

Gather, bold Clan-Donuil ; 

Come with haversack and cord ; 
Come not late with meal or cake, 

But come with durk, and gun, and sword. 
Down into the Lowlands, 

Plenty bides by dale and burn, 
Gather, brave Clan-Donuil, 

Riches wait on your return. 


We a' maun muster soon the morn, 
We a' maun march right early 

which must ever be deplored, but cannot now be remedied." In 
this song, Lenochan, Auchterechtan, and Glencoe, are claimed to be 
of the same family with Keppoch ; yet Lenochan's name, it would 
appear, was not Macdonald. 

* This is evidently a production of 1745, and must have been writ- 


O'er misty mount and mossy muir, 

Alang vvi' royal Charlie. 
Yon German cuif that fills the throne, 

He clamb to't most unfairly ; 
Sae aff we'll set and try to get 

His birthright back to Charlie. 

Yet, ere we leave this valley dear, 

Those hills o'erspread wi' heather, 
Send round the usquebaugh sae clear ; 

We'll tak a horn thegither. 
And listen, lads, to what I gie ; 

Ye'll pledge me roun' sincerely : 
To him that's come to set us free, 

Our rightful ruler, Charlie. 

Oh ! better lov'd he canna be ; 

Yet when we see him wearing 
Our Highland garb sae gracefully, 

'Tis aye the mair endearing. 
Though a' that now adorns his brow 

Be but a simple bonnet, 
E'er lang we'll see of kingdoms three 

The royal crown upon it. 

ten during the excitement caused by the landing of Charles, and the 
consequent efforts made to rouse the people in his cause. The in- 
fluence of the Jacobitical muse was exclusively and powerfully felt at 
that period in all quarters. Indeed, President Forbes, who chiefly 
managed the politics of government in Scotland, was forced to confess, 
with all his talents and skill, he was more afraid of the ladies and 
the poets than of the fierce Highlanders. Such was the power of 
beauty and of song. All the fair ladies, he said, were Jacobites, and 
they made innumerable converts among the gentlemen, while the 
song-writers every where roused the passions of the multitude. The 
Prince landed at Boradale, in Lochaber, with only about six or seven 
attendants. In less than three weeks he had an army of 1800 high- 
landers; and in other three weeks he was in possession of Edin- 
burgh, with his force increased to upwards of 3000 men. 


But ev'n should fortune turn her heel 

Upon the righteous cause, hoys, 
We'll shaw the warld we're firm and leal, 

And never will prove fause, hoys. 
We'll fight while we hae breath to draw 

For him we love sae dearly, 
And ane and a' we'll stand or fa', 

Alang wi' royal Charlie. 


Ungrateful Britons, rouse for shame, 

And own the royal race, 
Who can alone your fame restore, 

Your suff'rings all redress. 
To royal James, your native king, 

Your vows and homage pay, 
That ages late may see him reign, 

And his blest son obey. 

Your hopes, illustrious prince, now raise 

To all the charms of power ; 
Propitious joys of love and peace 

Already crown each hour. 
Prophetic Hymen join'd his voice, 

And gave a princely son, 
Whose ripen'd age may fill, he cries, 

His father's widow'd throne. 

Aloud I heard the voice of Fame 
Th' important news repeat, 

* Much of the Minstrelsy of 1145 was highly seasoned with Battery 
of Prince Charles and his ancestors. This production is none of the 
least fulsome of that description. Hogg, with all his jacobitical 
prejudices, admits it to be " rather an overcharged piece of work. '» 


Whilst Echo caught the pleasant theme, 

And did the sound repeat. 
Mute, when she spoke, was ev'ry wood, 

The zephyrs ceas'd to blow, 
The waves in silent rapture stood, 

And Forth forgot to flow. 

'Twas thus, in early bloom of time, 

And in a reverend oak, 
In sacred and inspired rhyme 

An ancient Druid spoke : 
' An hero from fair Clementine 

Long ages hence shall spring, 
And all the gods their powers combine 

To bless the future king. 

Venus shall give him all her charms, 

To win and conquer hearts ; 
Rough Mars shall train the youth to arms 

Minerva teach him arts : 
Great Jove shall all those bolts supply 

Which taught the rebel brood 
To know the ruler of the sky, 

And, trembling, own their God.' 


Here's a health to all brave English lads, 
Both lords and squires of high renown, 

Who will put to a helping hand 
To pull the vile usurper down. 

For our brave Scots are all on foot, 
Proclaiming loud, where'er they go, 

* This is a mere parody on the Song of the " Campbells are com- 
ing." Both the thoughts and the expression are little better than 


With sound of trumpet, pipe, and drum, 
' The clans are coming, oho ! oho ! 
The clans are coming, oho ! oho ! 

The clans are coming, oho ! oho ! 
The clans are coming by bonny Lochleven, 
The clans are coming, oho ! oho !' 

To set our king upon the throne, 

Not church nor state to overthrow, 
As wicked preachers falsely tell, 

The clans are coming, oho ! oho ! 
Therefore forbear, ye canting crew ; 

Your bugbear tales are a' for show : 
The want of stipend is your fear. 

The clans are coming, oho ! oho ! 
The clans are coming, &c. 

We will protect both church and state, 

Though we be held their mortal foe ; 
And when the clans are to the gate, 

You'll bless the clans, oho ! oho ! 
Corruption, bribery, breach of law, 

This was their cant some time ago 
Which did expose both court and king, 

And rais'd our clans, oho ! oho ! 
The clans are coming, &c. 

Rous'd like a lion from his den, 

When he thought on his country's wo, 

Our brave protector, Charles, did come, 
With all his clans, oho ! oho ! 

These lions, for their country's cause, 
And natural prince, were never slow : 

commonplace, but when coupled with the well-known air of the 
original verses, they were well adapted for the times. 


So now they come with their brave prince ; 
The clans advance, oho ! oho ! 
The clans are coming, &c. 

And now the clans have drawn their swords, 

And vow revenge against them a' 
That lift up arms for th' usurper's cause, 

To fight against our king and law. 
Then God preserve our royal king, 

And his dear sons, the lovely twa, 
And set him on his father's throne, 

And bless his subjects great and sma' ! 
The clans are coming, &c. 


Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er, 

Come boat me o'er to Charlie ; 
I'll gie John Ross anither bawbee 
To ferry me o'er to Charlie. 

We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea, 

We'll o'er the water to Charlie ; 
Come weel, come wo, we'll gather and go, 
And live or die wi' Charlie. 

It's weel I lo'e my Charlie's name, 
Though some there be abhor him ; 

But O to see Auld Nick gaun hame, 
And Charlie's faes before him ! 
We'll o'er the water, &c. 

* The political feelings of the women of Scotland in 1745 are 
strongly evinced in this Song, and it justifies the dread which was 
entertained of their influence by President Forbes in his correspon- 
dence with Government. Nothing, it is said, could surpass the zeal 
which they in general displayed for the cause of the Chevalier. Ray, 


I swear by moon and starns sae bright, 

And sun that glances early, 
If I had twenty thousand lives, 

I'd gie them a' for Charlie. 
We'll o'er the water, &c. 

I ance had sons, but now hae nane ; 

I bred them toiling sairly ; 
And I wad bear them a' again, 
And lose them a' for Charlie ; 

We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea, 

We'll o'er the water to Charlie ; 
Come weel, come wo, we'll gather and go, 
And live or die wi' Charlie. 


Come o'er the stream, Charlie, dear Charlie, 

brave Charlie, [Maclean ; 

Come o'er the stream, Charlie, and dine with 

And though you be weary, we'll make your 

heart cheery, 

And welcome our Charlie and his loyal train. 

We'll bring down the track deer, we'll bring 

down the black steer, [the glen ; 

The lamb from the breckan, and doe from 

the volunteer, states in his Journal, that he uniformly found the 
ladies most violent — " they would listen," says he, " to no manner of 
reason." The air as well as the Song has been always very popular. 
* This is one of several Original Songs which the Ettrick Shep- 
herd, with his usual felicity in that species of writing, has versified 
from the Gaelic. He says he had them from various contributors, 
done into English prose, but so much was there of the raw material 
and spirit of poetry in the abrupt Highland Ossianic sentences, that 
he never got any notes of words so easily turned into Songs. Some 
parts of the beverage, he remarks, promised to Prince Charles in this 
Song, by " his friend the Maclean," are certainly of a very singular 
nature, but not one of these did he add to the Original. 


The salt eea we'll hairy, and bring to our Charlie, 
The cream from the bothy, and curd from 
the pen. 

Come o'er the stream, Charlie, &c. 

And you shall drink freely the dews of Glen- 

Sheerly, [not ken, 

That stream in the star-light when kings do 

And deep be your meed of the wine that is red, 

To drink to your sire, and his friend the 


Come o'er the stream, Charlie, &c. 
O'er heath-bells shall trace you, the maids too 
embrace you, [the brae ; 

And deck your blue bonnet with flowers of 
And the loveliest Mari in all Glen M' Quarry 

Shall lie in your bosom till break of the day. 

Come o'er the stream Charlie, &c. [you, 

If aught will invite you, or more will delight 

'Tis ready, a troop of our bold Highlandmen 

Shall range on the heather with bonnet and 

feather, [dred and ten. 

Strong arms and broad claymores three hun- 


Princely is my lover's weed, 
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie ; 

Fu' his veins o' princely blude, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

* This Song was communicated originally by Allan Cunningham 
Mr. Cromek, who published it in his Remains of Nithsdale and 


The gay bonnet circles roun', 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Brows wad better fa' a crown, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

There's a hand the sceptre bruiks, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Better fa's the butcher's creuks, 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

There's a hand the braid-sword draws, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

The gowden sceptre seemlier fa's, 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

He's the best piper i' the north, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 

An' has dung a' ayont the Forth, 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Soon at the Tweed he mints to blaw, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 

Here's the lad ance far awa' ! 

The bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ! 

Galloway Song, as taken down from the mouth of a young girl, who 
learned it from an old woman, who was a Roman Catholic. It is 
shrewdly suspected, however, that the aforesaid Allan Cunningham 
wrote the same himself. Hogg says there are six different airs under 
the name of The Highland Laddie, and in his Relics he has given 
what he calls the oldest, which is sung to a very ancient Song, be- 

" I canna get my mare ta'en, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Master had she never nane, 

My bonnie Highland laddie. 

" Tate a rip an' wile her hame, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Nought like Hefting by the wame, 
My bonnie Highland laddie." 


There's nae a Southron fiddler's hum, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Can bide the war pipe's deadlie strum, 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

An' he'll raise sic an eldritch drone, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 

He'll wake the snorers round the throne. 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

And the targe and braid-sword's twang, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
1 To hastier march will gar them gang, 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Till frae his daddie's chair he'll blaw, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 

' Here's the lad ance far awa',' 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 


To daunton me an' me sae young, 
An' gude King James's auldest son ! 

* This version of the Song of the Chevalier, as it is called par excel- 
lence, is taken from Cromek's Remains, with additions from Hogg's 
Relics. The Original was communicated to Mr. Cromek by Mrs. 
Copland, of Dalbeattie, a lady of distinguished taste and critical acu- 
men in Scottish minstrelsy. There are various versions of it, how- 
ever, and it is difficult to distinguish some of the interpolations from 
the original words. The following verse is modern, but extremely 
characteristic of the chief to whom it refers : — 

Up came the gallant chief Lochiel 
An' drew his glaive o> nut-brown steel, 
Says, ' Charlie set your fit to me 
An' shaw me wha will daunton thee.' 


O that's the thing that ne'er can be, 

For the man's unborn that'll daunton me ! 

O set me ance on Scottish land, 

An' gie me my braid-sword in my hand, 

Wi' my blue bonnet aboon my bree, 

An' shaw me the man that'll daunton me. 

It's nae the battle's deadlie stoure, 

Nor friends pruived fause that'll gar me cower ; 

But the reckless hand o' povertie, 

O ! that alane can daunton me. 

High was I born to kingly gear, 

But a cuif came in my cap to wear, 

But wi' my braid-sword I'll let him see 

He's nae the man to daunton me. 

O I hae scarce to lay me on, 
Of kingly fields were ance my ain ; 
Wi' the moorcock on the mountain-bree, 
But hardship ne'er can daunton me. 
Up came the gallant chief Lochiel, 
An' drew his glaive o' nut-brown steel, 
Says, " Charlie, set your fit to me, 
An' shaw me wha will daunton thee !" 

to daunton me Second Set* 

Young Charlie is a gallant lad, 
As e'er wore sword and belted plaid ; 
And lane and friendless though he be, 
He is the lad that shall wanton me. 

* This version appears to have been written immediately after the 
landing of Prince Charles in Lochaber. It breathes all the political 
devotion and sanguine hopes of the newly awakened Jacobitism of 
the time. 


At Moidart our young prince did land, 
With seven men at his right hand, 
And a' to conquer nations three . 
That is the lad that shall wanton me. 

O vvae be to the faithless crew 
That frae our true king took his due, 
And banish'd him across the sea ; 
Nae wonder that should daunton me. 
But, Charlie lad, ere it be lang, 
We'll shaw them a' the right frae wrang ; 
Argyle and a' our faes shall see 
That nane on earth can daunton thee. 

Then raise the banner, raise it high ; 
For Charles we'll conquer or we'll die : 
The clans a' leal and true men be, 
And shaw me wha will daunton thee ! 
Our gude King James shall soon come hame, 
And traitors a' be put to shame ; 
Auld Scotland shall again be free ; 
O that's the thing wad wanton me ! 

to daunton me — Third Set* 

To daunton me, to daunton me, 

O ken ye what it is that'll daunton me ' 

* This set of the Chevalier's Song breathes the same spirit as the 
other two, and in point of conception is not inferior to either of 
them. The writer takes a fifty years retrospect, and would almost 
seem to have been groaning all that time under what he calls cess, 
and press, and presbytery. Without that cess, and press, and presby • 
tery, what would Scotland have been at this day ? The Jacobites, 
with all their devoted loyalty and their heroic courage, were wretched 
politicians both for themselves and their country. 


There's eighty-eight and eighty-nine, 
And a' that I hae born sinsyne, 
There's cess and press and Presbytrie, 
I think will do meikle to daunton me. 

But to wanton me, to wanton me, 

ken ye what it is that wad wanton me ? — 
To see gude corn upon the rigs, 

And banishment amang the Whigs, 
And right restored whare right sud be, 

1 think would do meikle to wanton me. 

But to wanton me, to wanton me, 

O ken ye what maist wad wanton me ? — 

To see king James at Edinb'rough cross, 

Wi' fifty thousand foot and horse, 

And the usurper forc'd to flee, 

O this is what maist wad wanton me. 


Oh ! send Lewie Gordon hame, 
And the lad I winna name ; 

* The air of this favourite Song is the original or northern set of 
" Tarry Woo." The Ettrick Shepherd ascribes the Song itself to a 
Mr Geddes, Priest at Shenval in the Enzie, who, he says, wrote it on 
the Lord Lewis Gordon, third son of the Duke of that name, at the 
time of the rising under Prince Charles. This Lord Lewis was bred 
to the sea service, but he entered so zealously into the views of the 
Prince, that he raised two regiments for him, and fought with great 
gallantry, as a military partizan. On the 23d of September, 1745, 
he commanded the detachment which defeated the King's forces at 
Inverury, under the Laird of M'Leod; upon which he marched to 
Perth, and joined the Prince, who was then on his way to Edin- 
burgh. After the Culloden affair, he escaped abroad. He was at- 
tainted in 1746, and died at Martreuil, in France, on the 15th of 
June, 1754. 


Though his hack be at the wa', 
Here's to him that's far awa ! 
Oh hon ! my Highland man, 
Oh, my bonny Highland man ; 
Weel would I my true-love ken, 
Amang ten thousand Highland men. 

Oh ! to see his tartan-trews, 
Bonnet blue, and laigh-heel'd shoes; 
Philabeg aboon his knee ; 
That's the lad that I'll gang wi' ! 
Oh hon ! &c. 

The princely youth that I do mean, 
Is fitted for to be a king ; 
On his breast he wears a star ; 
You'd tak him for the god of war. 
Oh hon! &c. 

Oh to see this princely one 
Seated on a royal throne ! 
Disasters a' would disappear, 
Then begins the jub'lee year ! 
Oh hon! &c. 


While thus I view fair Britain's isle, 
And see my sovereign in exile, 
A tyrant sitting on his throne, 
How can I but our fate bemoan ? 

* This Song is sung to the same tune as the Song of the Chevalier, 
or To Daunton me ; which was the most fashionable air of the years 
1745-6. The writer of the verses appears to have been one of those 
political fanatics, who, out of sheer hatred to the opposite party, 


Be valiant still, be valiant still, 

Be stout, and be bold, and be valiant still : 

There's right in the cause, and might in the 

To the bonny bonny lad that is valiant still. 

I hope we yet shall see the day, 
When Whigs shall dree the dule they ga'e, 
Shall yield their proud necks to the laws, 
And bow beneath the righteous cause. 
Be valiant, &c. 

Here's to the lads who dare be free, 
The lads who true and constant be j 
A health to all the loyal few, 
And curses on the Whiggish crew. 
Be valiant, &c. 

May Neptune waft our prince soon o'er, 
To join our clans on Albion's shore ! 
May England soon her error see, 
And aid the cause of heaven and me ! 
Be valiant, &c. 

Let Charlie lead us owre the lea, 
To meet the Whigs as one to three, 
And soon we'll see, upon the field, 
What side shall be the first to yield. 
Be valiant, &c. 

Then let us join with one consent, 
('Tis better late than ne'er repent,) 

would have been willing to sacrifice all and every thing, and even the 
liberties of his country. A man of this description would never have 
thought of making stipulations with the Pretender, if he had been 
successful. Political zeal would seem to be only outdone by that of 


To drive tli' usurper o'er the main, 
And welcome Charlie back again. 
Be valiant, &c. 


Arouse, arouse, each kilted clan ! 
Let Highland hearts lead on the van, 
And forward wi' their dirks in han' 
To fight for Royal Charlie. 

Welcome, Charlie, o'er the main, 
Our Highland hills are a' your ain, 
Welcome to our Isle again • 
O welcome, Royal Charlie ! 

Auld Scotia's sons, 'mang heather hills 
Can nobly brave the face of ills, 
For kindred fire ilk bosom fills, 
At sight of Royal Charlie. 

Welcome, Charlie, o'er the main, &c. 

Her ancient thistle wags her pow, 
And proudly waves o'er dale and knowe 
To hear the oath and sacred vow — 
We'll live or die for Charlie ! 

Welcome, Charlie, o'er the main, &c. 

Rejoic'd to think nae foreign weed, 
Shall trample on our hardy seed ; 
For weel she kens her sons will bleed, 
Or fix his throne right fairly. 

Welcome, Charlie, o'er the main, &c. 

* This Song is modern, and evidently adapted for the fine old air 
to which the various versions of" Welcome Royal Cfiarlie" are sung. 
It is taken from the Scots Magazine for February, 1817, where it 
appears with the signature— F. C. Banks of Clyde. 


Amang the wilds o' Caledon, 
Breathes there a base degenerate son 
Wha wadna to his standard run, 
And rally round Prince Charlie ? 

Welcome, Charlie, o'er the main, &c. 

Then let the flowing quaich go round, 
And loudly let the pibroch sound, 
Till every glen and rock resound 
The name o' Royal Charlie. 

Welcome, Charlie, o'er the main, 
Our Highland hills are a' your ain ; 
Welcome to your throne again, 
O welcome, Royal Charlie ! 


He comes, he comes, the hero comes ! 
Sound, sound your trumpets, beat, beat your 
From port to port let cannons roar, [drums : 
He's welcome to the British shore ; 
Welcome to the British shore. 

Prepare, prepare, your songs prepare, 
Loud, loudly rend the echoing air ; 
From pole to pole his fame resound, 
For virtue is with glory crown'd, 
Virtue is with glory crown'd. 

To arms, to arms, to arms repair ! 
Brave, bravely now your wrongs declare : 

* This lyrical piece possesses some spirit, but the expression through- 
out would denote it a modern production. Hogg says, however, that 
he got it as an original Jacobite Relic from Sir Walter Scott. 


See godlike Charles, his bosom glows 
At Albion's fate and bleeding woes, 
Albion's fate and bleeding woes. 

Away, away, fly, haste away! 
Crush, crush the bold usurper's sway ! 
Your lawful king at last restore, 
And Britons shall be slaves no more, 
Britons shall be slaves no more. 

he's coming here. * 

Be kind to me as lang's I'm yours ; 

I'll maybe wear awa yet, 
He's coming o'er the Highland hills, 

May tak me frae you a' yet. 

He's coming here, he will be here ; 

He's coming here for a' that, 
He's coming o'er the Highland hills, 

May tak me frae you a' yet. 

The arm is strong where heart is true, 
And loyal hearts are a' that ; — 

Auld love is better aye than new ; — 
Usurpers maunna fa' that. 
He's coming here, &c. 

The king is come to Muideart bay, 
And mony bagpipes blaw that ; 

* The first verse and the burden of this Song only are ancient. 
The rest is from the pen of R. Jamieson, Esq. It is an imitation of 
a Song on the same subject, in the Gaelic, the burden of which be- 
gins, " Gu'n d'thanig an Righ air tir i Mhuideart," in allusion to the 
landing of Prince Charles in Moidart. 


And Caledon her white cockade, 
And gude claymore may shaw yet. 
He's coming here, &c. 

Then loudly let the pibroch sound, 
And bauld advance each true heart ; 

The word be " Scotland's King and Law .'" 
And " Death or Charlie Stuart /" 
He's coming here, &c. 


Hark the horn ! 

Up i' the morn, 
Bonny lad, come to the march to-morrow. 

Down the glen, 

Grant and his men, 
They shall pay kane to the king the morn. 

Down by Knockhaspie, 

Down by Gillespie, 
Mony a red runt nods the horn, 

Waken not Callum, 

Rouky nor Allan ; 
They shall pay kane to the king the morn. 

Round the rock, 

Down by the knock, 
Monnaughty, Tannachty, Moy, and Glentrive, 

Brodie and Balloch, 

And Ballindalloch, 
They shall pay kane to the king belyve. 

* This Song is a translation from the Gaelic, and the general strain 
of it indicates, that a foray was intended by some of the clans in 
the service of Charles, upon those in the interest of Government, or 
upon their whig enemies of the low country. It has a beautiful and 
most original Gaelic air, and Frazer, in his collection, gives it the 


Let bark and brevin 

Blaze o'er Strathaven, 
When the red bullock is over the bourn : 

Then shall the maiden dread, 

Low on her pillow laid, 
Who's to pay kane to the king the morn. 

Down the glen, 

True Highlandmen, 
Ronald, and Donald, and ranting Roy, 

Gather and drive, 

Spare not Glentrive, 
But gently deal with the lady of Moy. 

Appin can carry through, 

So can Glengary too, 
And fairly they'll part to the hoof and the horn ; 

But Keppoch and Dunain too, 

They must be look'd unto, 
Ere they pay kane to the king the morn. 

Rouse the steer 

Out of his lair, 
Keep his red nose to the west away ; 

Mark for the seven, 

Or sword of heaven ; 
And loud is the midnight sough o' the Spey. 

When the brown cock crows day, 

Upon the mottled brae, 
Then shall our gallant prince hail the horn 

That tells both to wood and cleuch, 

Over all Badenoch, 
Who's to pay kane to the king the morn. 

title of Brigus mhic Ruaridh, which the Ettricfc Shepherd slyly sup- 
poses has originated from some circumstance, the same as the Song ; 
that is, stealing from the men with the breeks ! An explanation of the 
line — " But gently deal with the lady of Moy," is to be found in the 
circumstance of that Highland heroine having joined the Prince at 



When France had her assistance lent, 
Our darling prince to us she sent, 
Towards the north his course he bent, 
His name was Royal Charlie. 
But O, he was lang o' coming, 
O, he was lang o' coming, 
O, he was lang o' coming; — 
Welcome Royal Charlie. 

When he upon the shore did stand, 
The friends he had within the land 
Came down and shook him by the hand, 
And welcom'd Royal Charlie. 
Wi' " O, ye've been lang o' coming," &c. 

The dress that our Prince Charlie had 
Was bonnet blue and tartan plaid ; 
And O he was a handsome lad ! 
Few could compare wi' Charlie. 
But O, he was lang o' coming, &c. 


If thou'lt play me fair play, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

the head of two hundred Mackintoshes. Her husband, the laird, 
having refused to engage in the cause, she raised these men herself, 
and put them under the command of Donald M'Gillavry, but kept 
mostly in the camp, to see that they did their duty, and to encourage 
them in their fidelity. 

* This is one of the numerous editions of" Welcome Royal Charlie," 
which were so popular about the time of the Prince's landing. It 
alludes to the reception which Charles met with from Lochiel and 
others, immediately after that event. 

t In nothing did the Minstrels of the year 1745, more strongly de- 


Another year for thee I'll stay, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 

For a' the lassies here abouts, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Marry none but Geordie's louts, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

The time shall come when their bad choice, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
They will repent, and we rejoice, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
I'd take thee in thy Highland trews, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Before the rogues that wear the blues, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Our torments from no cause do spring, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
But fighting for our lawful king, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie ; 
Our king's reward will come in time, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
And constant Jenny shall be mine, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

There's no distress that earth can bring,. 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
But I'd endure for our true king, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie ; 
And were my Jenny but my own, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
I'd undervalue Geordie's crown, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

note the " Cunninge of their Crafte," than in the mixing up of love- 
and loyalty to the Chevalier in their Songs. This Song is only one 
instance among hundreds. The verses, too, were always, as in this 
specimen, adapted to a popular air. 



The cannons roar and trumpets sound, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
And a' the hills wi' Charles resound, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
Glory and honour now unite, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
For freedom and our prince to fight, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

In vain you strive to sooth my pain, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
With that much lov'd and glorious name, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
I, too fond maid, gave you a heart, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
With which you now so freely part, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

No passion can with me prevail, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
When king and country's in the scale, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
Though this conflict in my soul, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
Tells me love too much does ride, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

Ah, chill pretence ! I'd sooner die, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

* There are several versions of this Song, but the present edition 
is made up partly from those which are to be found in every common 
collection, and partly from a manuscript copy, communicated to the 
Ettrick Shepherd by Mr Stuart, younger of Dalguise. It is sung to- 
the same air, and exhibits the same union of love and politics, with 
the Song which immediately precedes it. 


Than see yon thus inconstant fly, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

And leave me to th' insidting crew, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Of Whigs to mock for trusting you, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Tho', Jenny, I my leave maun take, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
I never will my love forsake, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie : 
Be now content, no more repine, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
The Prince shall reign, and ye's be mine, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

While thus abandon'd to my smart, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
To one more fair you'll give your heart, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
And what still gives me greater pain, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Death may for ever you detain, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

None else shall ever have a share, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
But you and honour, of my care, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie *. 
And death no terror e'er can bring, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
While I am fighting for my king, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

The sun a backward course shall take, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 


Ere aught your manly courage shake, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 

My fondness shall no more control, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 

Your gen'rous and heroic soul, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Your charms, your sense, your noble mind, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
Would make the most abandoned kind, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie : 
For you and Prince I'll freely fight, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie, 
No object else can give delight, 

Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie. 

Go, for yourself procure renown, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
And for your lawful king his crown, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
And, when victorious, you shall find, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
A Jenny constant to your mind, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 


Lochiel ! Lochiel, beware of the day 
When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle 
array ! 

* This beautiful modern poem, by the author of the Pleasures of 
Hope, is inserted here, chiefly for the purpose of introducing the 
unfortunate hero of it to the notice of the reader. Donald Ca- 
meron of Lochiel, chief of the Clan Cameron, in 1745, and de- 


For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, 
And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight : 
They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and 

crown : 
Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down ! 
Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, 
And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the 

plain. [of war, 

But hark ! through the fast-flashing lightening 
What steed to the desert flies frantic and far ? 
'Tis thine, oh Glenullin ! whose bride shall 

await, [gate. 

Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all night at the 
A steed comes at morning : no rider is there ; 
But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. 

scended from ancestors distinguished in their own sphere for 
great personal prowess, was a man worthy of a better cause and 
fate than that in which he embarked, — the enterprise of the young 
Chevalier. His memory is still fondly cherished among the High- 
landers, by the appellation of the gentle Lochiel, for he was famed 
for his social virtues as much as for his martial and magnanimous 
(though mistaken) loyalty. His influence was so important among 
the Highland chiefs, that it depended on his joining with his clan 
whether the standard of Charles should be raised or not in 1^45. 
Lochiel was himself too wise a man to be blind to the consequences 
of so hopeless an enterprise, but his sensibility to the point of honour 
overruled his wisdom. Charles appealed to his loyalty, and he could 
not brook the reproaches of his Prince. When Charles landed at 
Borradale, Lochiel went to meet him, but, on his way, called at his 
brother's house, (Cameron of Fassafern) and told him on what errand 
he was going ; adding, however, that he meant to dissuade the Prince 
from his enterprise. Fassafern advised him in that case to commu- 
nicate his mind by letter to Charles. " No," said Lochiel, " I think 
it due to my Prince to give him my reason in person for refusing to 
join his standard." "Brother," replied Fassafern, "I know you 
better than you know yourself; if the Prince once sets his eyes on 
you, he will make you do what he pleases." The interview accord, 
ingly took place, and Lochiel, with many arguments, but in vain, 
pressed the Pretender to return to France, and reserve himself and 
his friends for a more favourable occasion, as he had come, by his 
own acknowledgement, without arms, or money, or adherents ; or, 
at all events, to remain concealed till his friends should meet and 
deliberate what was best to be done. Charles, whose mind was 
wound up to the utmost impatience, paid no regard to this pro- 


Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led ! 
Oh weep ! but thy tears cannot number the dead : 
For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, 
Culloden ! that reeks with the blood of the brave. 

Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer! 
Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear, 
Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight ! 
This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright. 

Ha ! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn ? 
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be 

posal, but answered, " that he was determined to put all to the 
hazard." " In a few days," said he, " I will erect the royal standard, 
and proclaim to the people of Great Britain, that Charles Stuart is 
come over to claim the crown of his ancestors, and to win it or perish 
in the attempt. Lochiel, who (my father has often told me) was our 
firmest friend, may stay at home, and learn from the newspapers the 
fate of his Prince." " No," said Lochiel, " I will share the fate of 
my Prince, and so shall every man over whom nature or fortune hath 
given me any power." 

The other chieftains who followed Charles embraced his cause 
with no better hopes ; but their fear to be reproached with cowardice 
or disloyalty, impelled them to the desperate adventure. Of this we 
have an example in the interview of prince Charles with Clanronald, 
another leading chieftain in the rebel army. 

" Charles," says Home, " almost reduced to despair, in his dis- 
course with Boisdale, addressed the two Highlanders with great 
emotion, and, summing up his arguments for taking arms, conjured 
them to assist their prince, their countryman, in his utmost need. 
Clanronald and his friend, though well inclined to the cause, posi- 
tively refused, and told him that to take up arms without concert or 
support, was to pull down certain ruin on their own heads. Charles 
persisted, argued, and implored. During this conversation (they 
were on shipboard) the parties walked backwards and forwards on 
the deck; a Highlander stood near them, armed at all points, as was 
then the fashion of his country. He was a younger brother of Kin- 
loch Moidart, and had come off to the ship to enquire for news, not 


Say, rush'd the bold eagle exultingly forth, 
From his home, in the dark rolling clouds of 

the north ? [rode 

Lo ! the death-shot of foemen outspeeding, he 
Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; 
But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! 
Ah ! home let him speed — for the spoiler is nigh. 
Why flames the far summit ? Why shoot to the 

blast, [cast? 

Those embers, like stars from the firmament 
'Tis the fire shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven 
From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of 

Oh, crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might, 
Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, 
Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to 

Return to thy dwelling! all lonely return! 
For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it 

stood, [brood. 

And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing 

False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my 

clan : [one ! 

Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are 

knowing who was aboard. When he gathered from their discourse 
that the stranger was the prince of Wales; when he heard his chief 
and his brother refuse to take arms with their prince; his colour 
went and came, his eyes sparkled, he shifted his place, and grasped 
his sword. Charles observed his demeanour, and turning briskly to 
him, called out, " Will you assist me ?" " I will, I will," said Ro- 
pald, " though no other man in the Highlands should draw a sword, 
I am ready to die for you !" Charles, with a profusion of thanks to 
his champion, said, he wished all the Highlanders were like him. 
Without farther deliberation the two Macdonalds declared that they 
would also join, and use their utmost endeavours to engage their 
countrymen to take arms." 


They are true to the last of their blood and 

their breath, [death. 

And like reapers descend to the harvest of 

Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the 

shock ! 
Let him dash his proud foam like a wave on 

the rock ! 
But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause, 
When Albin her claymore indignantly draws ; 
When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, 
Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud; 
All plaided and plumed in their tartan array 

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day ! 

For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, 
But man cannot cover what God would reveal : 
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, 
And coming events cast their shadows before. 
I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring 
With the blood-hounds, that bark for thy fugi- 
tive king. 
Lo ! anointed by heaven with the vials of wrath, 
Behold, where he flies on his desolate path ! 
Now, in darkness and billows, he sweeps from 
my sight : [flight ! 

Rise ! rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his 
'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on 

the moors ; 
Culloden is lost, and my country deplores ; 
But where is the iron-bound prisoner ? Where ? 
For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. 
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, for- 
lorn, [torn? 
Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and 


Ah no ! for a darker departure is near ; 
The war drum is muffled, and black is the bier ; 
His death-bell is tolling ; oh ! mercy, dispel 
Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell ! 
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, 
And his bloom-streaming nostril in agony swims. 
Accursed be the faggots, that blaze at his feet, 
Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases 

to beat, 
With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale — 

Down, soothless insulter ! I trust not the 

tale : 
For never shall Albin a destiny meet, 
So black with dishonour, so foul with retreat. 
Though my perishing ranks should be strewed 

in their gore, [shore, 

Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten 
Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains. 
While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, 
Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, 
With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe ! 
And leaving in battle no blot on his name, 
Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of 



Now Charles asserts his father's right, 
And thus establishes his own, 

* From the general strain of this production, it would appear to 
have been written immediately after the battle of Prestonpans. The 
Chevalier's partizans must then have been exceedingly sanguine of 



Braving the dangers of the fight, 
To cleave a passage to the thr< 

The Scots regain their ancient fame, 
And well their faith and valour show, 

Supporting their young hero's claim 
Against a pow'rful rebel foe. 

The God of battle shakes his arm, 

And makes the doubtful victory shine ; 
A panic dread their foes disarm : 

Who can oppose the will divine ? 
The rebels shall at length confess 

Th' undoubted justice of the claim, 
When lisping babes shall learn to bless 

The long-forgotten Stuart's name. 


Now up wi' Donald, my ain brave Donald, 

It's up wi' Donald and a' his clan ; 
He's aff right early, awa wi' Charlie, 

Now turn the blue bonnet wha can, wha can. 
His arm is ready, his heart is steady, [drawn ; 

And that they'll find when his claymore's 
They'll flee frae its dint like the fire frae flint, 

Then turn the blue bonnet wha can, wha can. 

The tartan plaid it is waving wide, 
The pibroch's sounding up the glen, 

success, since they were already beginning to give the title of" rebel 
foe" to their opponents. 

* The title of this Song is ancient, but the words were first pub- 
lished in Hogg's Relics, set to the music of a very beautiful air. The 
Shepherd is doubtless the author of it himself, but it is so character- 
istic of Highland Jacobitism, that it is here appropriately associated 
with the originals of the olden time. 


And I will tarry at Auchnacarry, 
To see my Donald and a' his men. 

And there I saw the king o' them a', 
Was marching bonnily in the van ; 

And aye the spell o' the bagpipe's yell 

Was, Turn the blue bonnet wha can, wha can. 

There's some will fight for siller and gowd, 

And march to countries far awa ; 
They'll pierce the waefu' stranger's heart, 

And never dream of honour or law. 
Gie me the plaid and the tartan trews, 

A plea that's just, a chief in the van, 
To blink wi' his e'e, and cry " On wi' me!" 

Deils, turn the blue bonnet wha can, wha can S 

Hersel pe neiter slack nor slow, 

Nor fear te face of Southron loon ; 
She ne'er pe stan' to fleech nor fawn, 

Nor parley at a' wi' hims plack tragoon. 
She just pe traw her trusty plade, 

Like pettermost Highland shentleman ; 
And as she's platterin town te prae, 

Tamn ! turn her plue ponnet fa can, fa can ! 


Wha wadna fight for Charlie ? 

Wha wadna draw the sword ? 
Wha wadna up and rally, 

At their royal prince's word ? 

* This is a good specimen of the enthusiasm which prevailed 
among the Jacobites, from the landing in Boradale, till the return of 
Charles's expedition into England. It -was a short but brilliant and 
sanguine period of success. Among the singular events which 


Think on Scotia's ancient heroes, 

Think on foreign foes repell'd, 
Think on glorious Bruce and Wallace, 

Wha the proud usurpers quell'd. 

Wha wadna, &c. 

Rouse, rouse, ye kilted warriors ! 

Rouse, ye heroes of the north ! 
Rouse, and join your chieftain's banners, 

'Tis your prince that leads you forth ! 

marked it, none of the least singular was the spirit displayed by- 
some of the Highland ladies. In a preceding note, it has been 
mentioned that the wife of the Laird of Moy joined the Prince in op- 
position to her husband ; but the heroism of that lady was equalled if 
not surpassed by the famous Miss Jenny Cameron of Glendessery, 
who not only promptly joined Charles with a body of men, but 
attended him afterwards in all his exploits. Miss Cameron, when 
she heard the news of the Prince's arrival, finding her nephew, the 
laird, a minor, and, at any rate, a youth of no capacity, immediately 
set about rousing the men to arms herself, and when a summons was 
sent by Lochiel to her nephew, she set off to Charles's head- 
quarters, at the head of two hundred and fifty followers of the 
clan well armed. She herself was dressed in a sea green rid- 
ing habit, with a scarlet lapell, trimmed with gold, her hair tied 
behind in loose buckles, with a velvet cap, and scarlet feathers : 
she rode on a bay gelding, decked with green furnishing, which was 
fringed with gold ; instead of a whip, she carried a naked sword in 
her hand, and in this equipage arrived at the camp. A female officer 
was a very extraordinary sight, and it being reported to the Prince, 
he went out of the lines to meet this supply. Miss Jenny rode up to 
him without the least symptom of embarrassment, gave him a soldier- 
like salute, and then addressed him in words to the following effect : 
— " That as her nephew was not able to attend the royal standard, 
she had raised his men, and now brought them to his Highness ; that 
she believed them ready to hazard their lives in his cause, and though 
at present they were commanded by a woman, yet she hoped they 
had nothing womanish about them ; for she found, that so glorious 
a cause had raised in her breast every manly thought, and quite ex- 
tinguished the woman ; what an effect then," added she, " must it 
have on those who have no feminine fear to combat, and are free from 
the incumbrance of female dress ? These men, Sir, are yours ; they 
have devoted themselves to your service ; they bring you hearts as 
well as hands : I can follow them no further, but I shall pray for your 
success." This address being over, she ordered her men to pass in 
review before the Chevalier, who expressed himself pleased with 


Wha wadna, &c. 

Shall we basely crouch to tyrants ? 

Shall we own a foreign sway ? 
Shall a royal Stuart be banish'd, 

While a stranger rules the day ? 

Wha wadna, &c. 

See the northern clans advancing ! 

See Glengary and Lochiel ! 
See the brandish'd broad swords glancing ! 

Highland hearts are true as steel. 

Wha wadna, &c. 

Now our prince has rear'd his banner ; 

Now triumphant is our cause ; 
Now the Scottish lion rallies ; 

Let us strike for prince and laws. 


'Twas on a Monday morning, 
Right early in the year, 

their appearance, but much more so with the gallantry of their female 
leader. He conducted her to his tent, and treated her in the most 
courteous manner. Her natural temper being extremely frank and 
open, she was as full of gaiety as a girl of fifteen. The Prince was, 
therefore, much delighted with her conversation, and while she Con- 
tinued in the camp, he spent many of his leisure hours with her. He 
used frequently to style her Colonel Cameron, and by that title she was 
often jocularly distinguished afterwards. She continued with the 
army till they marched into England, and joined it again in Annan- 
dale on its return ; and being in the battle fought on Falkirk-muir, 
she was there taken prisoner, and committed to the castle of Edin- 
burgh. She afterwards got free, and was chosen guardian to her 
nephew as long as she lived. 

* The air to which this song is sung being exceedingly beautiful, 
the combination of love, loyalty, and fine music, which it presents, 
made it a great favourite with all ranks. These are the original 


That Charlie came to our town, 
The young Chevalier. 

And Charlie he's my darling, 

My darling, my darling, 
And Charlie he's my darling, 
The young Chevalier. 

As he was walking up the street, 

The city for to view, 
O there he spied a bonnie lass, 

The window looking through. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

Sae. light's he jumped up the stair, 

And tirled at the pin ; 
And wha sae ready as hersel 

To let the laddie in ! 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

He set his Jenny on his knee, 

All in his Highland dress ; 
For brawly weel he kend the way 

To please a bonnie lass. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

It's up yon heathery mountain, 
And down yon scroggy glen, 

We daurna gang a milking 
For Charlie and his men. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

verses ; but they are mere doggrel, and none of the modern versions 
appear to be much superior. Even the Ettrick Shepherd has failed 
in imitating this subject, and for one of the finest of tunes a set of 
good words is jet a desideratum. 



'Twas on a Monday morning, 

Right early in the year, 
That Charlie came to our town, 
The young Chevalier. 

And Charlie he's my darling, 

My darling, my darling, 
And Charlie he's my darling, 
The young Chevalier. 

As Charlie he came up the gate, 
His face shone like the day : 

I grat to see the lad come back, 
That had been lang away. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

And ilka bonnie lassie sang, 

As to the door she ran, 
Our king shall hae his ain again, 

And Charlie is the man. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

Out-owre yon moory mountain, 

And down yon craigy glen, 
Of naething else our lasses sing, 

But Charlie and his men. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 

* This is the Ettrick Shepherd's version of the preceding Song. 
He says it was written at the request of a friend, who complained 
that the old original verses were not to his taste. It was thus a piece 
of task. work, and like every thing of that sort, but indifferently per- 
formed. Hogg's usual felicity of thought and expression seem to be 
awanting here. As is the case in the old Song, the air alone forms 
an apology for the words in this one. 


Our Highland hearts are true and leal, 

And glow without a stain ; 
Our Highland swords are metal keen, 

And Charlie he's our ain. 

And Charlie he's my darling, &c. 


Sir John Cope trode the north right far, 
Yet ne'er a rebel he earn naur, 
Until he landed at Dunbar, 
Right early in the morning. 

Hey, Johnnie Cope are ye wauking yet ? 

Or are ye sleeping, I would wit ? 

O haste ye, get up, for the drums do beat : 

O fye, Cope, rise in the morning ! 

He wrote a challenge from Dunbar, 
" Come fight me, Charlie, an ye daur ; 
If it be not by the chance of war, 
I'll give you a merry morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

* Although the words of this Song breathe little or nothing of 
the spirit of poetry, it has always been a favourite with every class 
of Scotsmen, from the peer to the peasant. Perhaps the signal nature 
of the engagement which it records, may have contributed to this, 
as the result was highly flattering to national vanity ; but the tune, 
which is admirable when sung in good taste, has doubtless had the 
chief share in creating so much popularity. Hogg says, that he 
knows not any Song to which so many people are partial, and quotes 
the late Duke of Buccleugh as one of those whose predeliction for 
it was extreme, and whom he had often heard sing it with infinite 
glee. As it is commemorative of the first important action that took 
place in 1745, the following particulars may not be unacceptable to 
the reader. When Charles landed in Lochaber, Sir John Cope was 
Commander-in-Chief for Scotland. After the fact of the Prince's 
arrival was ascertained by Government, that officer received orders 
to assemble all the regular troops and to march against him without 
loss of time, that the enterprise might, if possible, be crushed in its 


When Charlie look'd the letter upon, 
He drew his sword the scabbard from, 
" So heaven restore to me my own, 
I'll meet you, Cope, in the morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

Cope swore with many a bloody word, 
That he would fight them gun and sword, 
But he fled frae his nest like a weel-scar'd bird, 
And Johnnie he took wing in the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

It was upon an afternoon, 
Sir John march'd in to Preston town, 
He says, " My lads, come lean you down, 
And we'll fight the boys in the morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

birth. Sir John accordingly concentrated at Stirling all the dispos- 
able force he could muster, and then marched to the North ; but, 
in the meantime, the Prince's force had acquired considerable 
strength, and was in possession of the mountain of Coryarrak, on 
the road to Fort Augustus, which was thus rendered impracticable 
to the King's troops, without the risque of their being cut to pieces. 
Cope, on hearing this, altered his route, and at Blarigg Beg took the 
road to Inverness. The Prince and his followers then made their 
way across the mountains, and reached Edinburgh without any im- 
pediment, where he took up his abode in the Palace of his ancestors. 
When this news reached Cope in the North, he immediately shipped 
his troops at Aberdeen ; and, after a few days sail, arrived at Dunbar, 
where he landed, and afterwards pushed on to Haddington, which 
was at no great distance from the Highland camp. In this neigh- 
bourhood, at the village ef Prestonpans, Cope also encamped : and, 
in less than two days afterwards, he was attacked and totally routed 
by the Chevalier. The night before the battle, both armies lay upon 
their arms. Cope's force amounted to about 2500 men. The Prince's 
was nearly the same in point of numbers, but they were very indif- 
ferently armed. As the morning broke, the latter were discovered 
drawn up in order of battle, and advancing to the attack. The right 
wing was led on by the Duke of Perth, and consisted of the regi- 
ments of Clan Ronald, Keppoch, Glengary, and Glencoe. The left 
by Lord George Murray, consisting of the Camerons, under Lochiel, 
the Stuarts of Appin, under Ardshiell, a body of the Macgregors, 
under Glencairneg, and the Duke of Perth's men, under Major 


But when lie saw the Highland lads 
Wi' tartan trews and white cockades, 
Wi' swords and guns, and rungs and gauds, 
O Johnnie he took wing in the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

On the morrow when he did rise, 
He look'd between him and the skies ; 
He saw them wi' their naked thighs, 
Which fear'd him in the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

then he fled into Dunbar, 
Crying for a man of war ; 

He thought to have pass'd for a mstic tar, 
And gotten awa in the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

James Dmmmond. " Nothing," says an eye-witness, " could parallel 
the celerity with which the Highlanders obeyed the signal to form 
and attack, except perhaps the courage and ardour with which they 
afterwards fought. Pulling off their bonnets, and looking up to 
heaven, they ejaculated a short prayer, and then rushed forward. 
At this moment, Cope's artillery began to play furiously upon them, 
and they received also the full fire of the dragoons on right and left ; 
but their impetuosity was irresistible. Pressing furiously on, they 
first discharged and threw down their muskets ; then drawing their 
broad swords, with a hideous shout they rushed upon the enemy, 
and in less than ten minutes, both horse and foot were totally over- 
thrown, and driven from the field." According to the Chevalier 
Johnstone, who was Aid-de-Camp to the Prince, the battle was 
gained with such rapidity that it seemed the effect of magic. " The 
panic which seized the English," says he, " surpassed all imagina- 
tion. They threw down their arms that they might run with more 
speed, thus depriving themselves by their fears of the only means of 
arresting the vengeance of the Highlanders. Of so many men, in a 
condition, from their numbers, to preserve order in their retreat, not 
one thought of defending himself. Terror had taken entire posses- 
sion of their minds. I saw a young highlander, about fourteen 
years of age, scarcely formed, who was presented to the Prince as a 
prodigy, having killed, it was said, fourteen of the enemy. The 
Prince asked him if this was true ? ' I do not know,* replied he, ' if 

1 killed them, but I brought fourteen soldiers to the ground with my 
sword.* Another highlander brought ten soldiers to the Prince, 


Sir John then into Berwick rade, 
Just as the deil had been his guide ; 
Gi'en him the world, he wadna staid 
T' have foughten the boys in the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

Said the Berwickers unto Sir John, 
" O what's become of all your men?" 
" In faith," says he, " I dinna ken ; 
I left them a' this morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

whom he had made prisoners, driving them before him like a flock 
of sheep. This Highlander, from a rashness without example, hav- 
ing pursued a party to some distance from the field of battle, along 
a road between two enclosures, struck down the hindermost with 
a blow of his sword, calling out at the same time, " down with your 
arms." The soldiers, terror-struck, threw down their arms without 
looking behind them, and then the Highlander, with a pistol in one 
hand, and a sword in the other, made them do exactly as he pleased. 
The rage and despair of these men, on finding themselves made pri- 
soners by a single individual, may easily be imagined. They were, 
however, the same English soldiers who had distinguished themselves 
at Dittengen and Fontenoy, and who might justly be ranked among 
the bravest troops of Europe." When the pursuit of the fugitives was 
over, the field of battle presented a spectacle of horror, for the killed 
all fell by the sword, and nothing was to be seen but heads, legs, 
arms, and mutilated bodies, scattered in every direction. About six 
or seven hundred of Cope's army were killed, and fifteen hundred 
were taken prisoners. Six field pieces, two mortars, with all the 
tents, baggage, and the military chest, fell into the hands of the 
victors. General Cope himself, by means of a white cockade, which 
he put in his hat, similar to that worn by the Prince's followers, 
passed through the middle of the Highlanders without being recog- 
nised, and escaped to England, where he was the first who commu- 
nicated the news of his own defeat. The loss of the Highland army 
did not exceed forty private men and four officers killed, and about 
seventy of the former wounded. Signal and decisive as the victory 
was, the chief advantage which the Prince derived from it was the 
reputation which his army acquired in the outset ; which determin- 
ed many of his partizans, who were yet wavering, to declare them- 
selves openly in his favour. The arms of the vanquished, of which 
his army stood much in need, were also of great service to him. All 
the prisoners were carried to Edinburgh, but the officers were liber- 
ated on their parole — and the wounded were most carefully attend- 
ed to. Charles returned to Edinburgh the day after the battle, 


Says Lord Mark Car, " Ye are na blate, 
To bring us the news o' your ain defeat, 
I think you deserve the back o' the gate : 
Get out o' my sight this morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

Johnnie cope.— Second Set.* 

Cope sent a challenge frae Dunbar, 
" Charlie, meet me an ye dare, 
And I'll learn you the art of war, 
If you'll meet wi' me in the morning." 

Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye waking yet? 

Or are your drums cheating yet ? 

If ye were waking I would wait 

To gang to the coals i' the morning. 

When Charlie look'd the letter upon, 
He drew his sword the scabbard from, 
" Come, follow me, my merry merry men, 
And we'll meet Johnnie Cope i' the morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

where he was received with the loudest acclamations by the 
populace ; but as it was good policy to make a show of moderation, 
he prohibited all public rejoicings on account of his victory, since it 
had been purchased at the expense of the blood of his subjects. His 
army now increased every day, and soon amounted to upwards of 
five thousand men. 

* Notwithstanding the scorn and ridicule which Cope appears to 
have incurred, there can be no doubt that he was an officer of consider- 
able military skill, as well as of unquestionable courage. President 
Forbes, who had the direction of the Civil Affairs of Scotland at that 
period, and had the best means of knowing the characters of all the 
servants of government, uniformly gave Cope the credit of being one 
of the best English commanders employed in 1145. The position of 
the English army is described by the Chevalier Johnstone as having 
been admirably chosen, and but for the circumstance of the High- 
landers having discovered a path across a marsh on its left, which 
was supposed to be every where impassable, their army could no- 


Now, Johnnie, be as gude's your word, 
Come let us try baith fire and sword, 
And dinna rin awa like a frighted bird, 
That's chas'd frae it's nest i' the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

When Johnnie Cope he heard of this, 
He thought it wadna be amiss 
To hae a horse in readiness, 
To flee awa i' the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

Fy, now, Johnnie, get up and rin ; 
The Highland bagpipes make a din, 
It's best to sleep in a hale skin, 
For 'twill be a bluidie morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

When Johnnie Cope to Dunbar came, 
They speer'd at him, " Where's a' your men ?' 
The deil confound me gin I ken, 
For I left them a' i' the morning. 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

Now, Johnnie, troth ye were na blate, 
To come wi' the news o' your ain defeat, 
And leave your men in sic a strait, 
So early in the morning. 

Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

have approached Cope's camp without the certainty of being cut to 
pieces. Their gaining this path through the marsh enabled them to 
take the English army by surprise, as it were, and to effect its dis- 
comfiture with very little loss to themselves. So silent was the ap- 
proach of the Highlanders, and so little did Cope expect to be at- 
tacked, that in the morning's dusk he mistook their first line for 
bushes, when already formed in order of battle at the distance of two 
hundred paces. They were so close upon him that his cavalry had 


" I faith," quo' Johnnie, " I got a fleg, 
Wi' their claymores and philabegs ; 
If I face them again, deil break my legs ! 
So I wish you a very gude morning." 
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c. 

johnnie cope Third Set.* 

Cope sent a challenge from Dunbar, 
Saying, sir, come fight me, if you dauf, 
If it be not by the chance of war, 
I'll catch you all in the morning. 

Charlie look'd the letter upon, 
He drew his sword the scabbard from, 
Saying, l Follow me, my merry men, 
And we'll visit Cope in the morning. 

' My merry men, come follow me, 
For now's the time I'll let you see, 
What a happy nation this will be, 

And we'll visit Cope in the morning.' 

'Tis Coppie, are you waking yet? 
Or are you sleeping ? I would, wit ; 
'Tis a wonder when your drums do beat, 
It wakens na you in the morning. 

no room to act, and the Highlanders cut and slashed at the noses of 
the horses with impunity. 

* Cope seems to have grossly provoked the shafts of ridicule which 
have heen levelled at him in these songs, for previous to the battle he 
was heard to talk lightly and contemptuously of the Prince's force. 
There was also a good deal of vapouring among his officers. Of course 
the laugh was turned the more effectually against both him and them, 
when their overthrow was at once so easily and signally completed. 
Friends and foes seem to have united in making Sir John a butt af- 
ter his defeat. His previous boasting, however, may in some measure 
account for it. 


The Highland men came down the loan, 
With sword and target in their hand, 
They took the dawning by the end, 
And they visited Cope in the morning. 

For all their bombs, and bomb-granades, 
O when they saw the Highland lads, 
They shook wi' fear like awkward squads, 
And scour'd awa in the morning. 

For all their bombs, and their bomb-shells, 
When they saw the lads o' the hills, 
They took to their heels like frighted wolves, 
Pursued by the clans in the morning. 

The Highland men with loud huzza, 
Cried, Johnnie Cope, are you quite awa? 
O bide a wee, and shake a paw, 

And we'll give you a merry morning. 

When Coppie went to Haddington, 
They ask'd him where were all his men ; 
O, pox take me if I do ken, 

For I left them all in the morning. 


The Chevalier, being void of fear, 

Did march up Birsle brae, man, 
And through Tranent, ere he did stent, 

As fast as he could gae, man : 

* The engagement with Cope's army was indiscriminately called the 
Battle of Prestonpans, of Tranent Muir, and of Gladsmuir, from the 
names of the neighbouring villages or the field of battle itself. The 
author of this popular song called Tranent Muir, was a Mr Skirving, 


While General Cope did taunt and mock, 

Wi' mony a loud huzza, man,* 
But ere next morn proclaim'd the cock. 

We heard another craw, man. 

The brave Lochiel, as I heard tell, 

Led Camerons on in clouds, man ; 
The morning fair, and clear the air, 

They loos'd with devilish thuds, man ; 
Down guns they threw, and swords they drew, 

And soon did chace them aff, man , 
On Seaton- Crafts they buft their chafts, 

And gart them rin like daft, man. 

The bluff dragoons swore, blood and oons ! 

They'd make the rebels run, man ; f 
And yet they flee when them they see, 

And winna fire a gun, man : 
They turn'd their back, the foot they brake, 

Such terror seiz'd them a', man ; 
Some wet their cheeks, some fyl'd their breeks, 

And some for fear did fa', man. 

The volunteers prick'd up their ears, 
And vow but they were crouse, man ! 

Yet when the bairns saw't turn to earn'st, 
They were na worth a louse, man ; 

a very respectable farmer near Haddington, and father to the late 
■whimsical and celebrated painter of that name. 

* When the royal army saw the Highlanders appear, the soldiers 
shouted with great vehemence, which was returned by the Highland- 
ers.— Home's History of tlie Rebellion- 

f In the march from Haddington to Preston, the officers of the 
royal army " assured the spectators, of whom no small number at- 
tended them, that there would be no battle ; for, as the cavalry and 
infantry were joined, the Highlanders would not venture to wait the 
attack of so complete an army. Such was the tone of the army." — 


Maist feck gade hame ; O fy for shame ! 

They'd better staid awa', man, 
Than wi' cockade to make parade, 

And do nae good at a', man. 

Monteith* the great, when hersel shit, 

Un'wares did ding him o'er, man ; 
Yet wad na stand to bear a hand, 

But afF fu' fast did scour, man ; 
O'er Soutra hill, e'er he stood still, 

Before he tasted meat, man : 
Troth, he may brag of his swift nag, 

That bore him aff sae fleet, man. 

And Simpson,f keen to clear the een 

Of rebels far in wrang, man, 
Did never strive wi' pistols five, 

But gallop'd with the thrang, man ; 
He turn'd his back, and in a crack, 

Was cleanly out o' sight, man ; 
And thought it best; it was nae jest, 

Wi' Highlanders to fight, man. 

'Mangst a' the gang nane bade the bang 
But twa, and ane was ta'en, man ; 

For Campbell rade, but Myrie { staid, 
And sair he paid the kain, man ; 

* The minister of Longformacus, a volunteer ; who happening to 
come, the night before the battle, upon a Highlander easing nature 
at Preston, threw him over, and carried his gun as a trophy to Cope's 

)■ Another volunteer Presbyterian minister, who said he would 
convince the rebels of their error by dint of his pistols; having, for 
that purpose, two in his pockets, two in his holsters, and one in his 

{ Mr Myrie was a student of physic, from Jamaica ; he entered as 
a volunteer in Cope's army, and was miserably mangled by the broad- 


Fell skelps he got, was waur than shot 
Frae the sharp-edg'd claymore, man ; 

Frae monie a spout came running out 
His reeking-het red gore, man. 

But Gard'ner* brave did still behave 

Like to a hero bright, man ; 
In courage true, like him were few 

That still despised flight, man ; 
For king and laws, and country's cause, 

In honour's bed he lay, man ; 
His life, but not his courage, fled, 

While he had breath to draw, man. 

And Major Bowie, that worthy soul, 

Was brought down to the ground, man ; 
His horse being shot, it was his lot 

For to get monie a wound, man : 
Lieutenant Smith, of Irish birth, 

Frae whom he call'd for aid, man, 
Being full of dread, lap o'er his head, 

And wadna be gainsaid, man. 

He made sic haste, sae spurr'd his beast, 

'Twas little there he saw, man; 
To Berwick rade, and falsely said, 

The Scots were rebels a', man : 
But let that end, for well 'tis kend 

His use and wont's to lie, man ; 
The Teague is naught; he never faught 

When he hadj-oom to flee, man.f 

* James Gardiner, colonel of a regiment of horse ; being deserted 
by his troop, he was killed by a Highlander, with a Lochaber axe. 

f Burns relates the following anecdote of Lieutenant Smith, who 
" came to Haddington after the publication of this song, and sent a 
challenge to Skirving, the author, to meet him at Haddington, and 
answer for the unworthy manner in which he had noticed him in his 


And Caddel drest, amang the rest, 

With gun and good claymore, man, 
On gelding grey he rode that day, 

With pistols set before, man ; 
The cause was good, he'd spend his blood, 

Before that he would yield, man ; 
But the night before he left the core, 

And never fac'd the field, man. 

But gallant Roger, like a soger, 

Stood and bravely fought, man j 
I'm wae to tell, at last he fell, 

But mae down wi' him brought, man : 
At point of death, wi' his last breath, 

(Some standing round in ring, man,) 
On's back lying flat, he wav'd his hat, 

And cried, " God save the king !" man. 

Some Highland rogues, like hungry dogs, 

Neglecting to pursue, man, 
About they fac'd, and in great haste 

Upon the booty flew, man ; 
And they, as gain, for all their pain, 

Are deck'd wi' spoils o' war, man ; 
Fu' bauld can tell how her nainsell 

Was ne'er sae praw pefore, man. 

At the thorn tree, which you may see 

Bewest the Meadow- Mill, man, 
There monie slain lay on the plain, 

The clans pursuing still, man. 
S ic unco hacks, and deadly whacks, 

I never saw the like, man ; 

song. — f Gang awa back,' said the honest farmer, ' and tell Mr Smith 
that I have na leisure to come to Haddington ; but tell him to come 
here, and I'll tak a look o' him, and if I think I'm fit to fecht him, 
I'll fecht him ; and if no— I'll do as he did— I'll rin ana." 


Lost hands and heads cost them their deads, 
That fell near Preston-dyke, man. 

That afternoon, when a' was done, 

I gaed to see the fray, man ; 
But had I wist what after past, 

I'd better staid away, man ; 
On Seaton sands, wi' nimble hands, 

They pick'd my pockets bare, man ; 
But I wish ne'er to dree sick fear, 

For a' the sum and mair, man. 


As over Gladsmuir's blood-stain'd field, 

Scotia, imperial goddess, flew, 
Her lifted spear and radiant shield 
Conspicuous blazing to the view ; 
Her visage, lately clouded with despair, 
Now re-assumed its first majestic air. 

Such seen, as oft in battle warm, 

She glow'd through many a martial age : 
Or mild to breathe the civil charm, 
In pious plans and counsel sage : 
For o'er the mingling glories of her face, 
A manly greatness heighten'd female grace. 

* William Hamilton of Bangour, the author of this production 
was of an ancient family in Ayrshire. He was liberally educated 
and his genius and delicate constitution seemed to mark him out 
for pacific pursuits alone, but he thought fit to join the standard of 
Prince Charles in 1745, celebrated the blaze of his success in this 
Song, and finally escaped to France, after much wandering and 
many hardships in the Highlands. He afterwards made his peace, 
however, with the Government, and came home to take possession of 
his paternal estate ; but the state of his health requiring a warmer 


Loud as the trumpet rolls its sound, 

Her voice the Power celestial rais'd, 
While her victorious sons around, 
In silent joy and wonder gaz'd. 
The sacred Muses heard th' immortal lay, 
And thus to earth the notes of fame convey : 

"'Tis done, my sons ! 'Tis nobly done ! 

Victorious over tyrant power : 
How quick the race of fame was run ! 
The work of ages in one hour ! 
Slow creeps th' oppressive weight of slavish 

One glorious moment rose, and burst your chains. 

"But late, forlorn, dejected, pale, 

A prey to each insulting foe, 
I sought the grove and gloomy vale, 
To vent in solitude my woe. 
Now to my hand the balance fair restor'd, 
Once more I wield on high th' imperial sword. 

" What arm has this deliverance wrought ? 

'Tis he ! The gallant youth appears ! 
O warm in fields, and cool in thought, 
Beyond the slow advance of years, 
Haste, let me, rescued now from future harms, 
Strain close thy filial virtue in my arms. 

" Early I nurs'd this royal youth, 
Ah ! ill detain'd on foreign shores ; 

climate, he returned to the Continent, where he continued to re- 
side, till a slow consumption carried him off at Lyons, in his 50th 
year. Hamilton had considerable merit as a Poet; but this com- 
position is rather an overstrained effort of his muse. Hogg may 
well be forgiven for saying that he " does na like it ava, because it's 
far owre sublime !»> 


I form'd his mind with love of truth, 
With fortitude and wisdom's stores ; 
For when a noble action is decreed, 
Heaven forms the hero for the destin'd deed. 

" Nor could the soft seducing charms 

Of mild Hesperia's blooming soil 
E'er quench his noble thirst for arms, 
Of generous deeds, and honest toil. 
Fir'd with the love a country's love imparts, 
He fled their weakness, but admir'd their arts. 

" With him I plough'd the stormy main, 
My breath inspir'd th' auspicious gale : 
Reserv'd for Gladsmuir's glorious plain, 
Through dangers wing'd his daring sail ; 
Where, firm'd with inborn worth, he durst op- 
His single valour to a host of foes. [pose 

" He came, he spoke, and all around 

As swift as heaven's quick-darted flame, 
Shepherds turn'd warriors at the sound, 
And every bosom beat for fame : 
They caught heroic ardour from his eyes, 
And at his side the Avilling heroes rise. 

" Rouse, England, rouse ! Fame's noblest 
In all thy ancient splendour shine ! 
If I the glorious work begun, 

O let the crowning palm be thine ! 
I bring a prince, for such is Heaven's decree, 
Who overcomes but to forgive and free. 

" So shall fierce wars and tumults cease, 
While plenty crowns the smiling plain 


And industry, fair child of peace, 
Shall in each crowded city reign. 
So shall these happy realms for ever prove 
The sweets of union, liberty, and love." 


Our gallant prince is now come hame 

To Scotland, to proclaim his daddie : 
May Heav'n protect the royal name 
Of Stuart, and the tartan plaidie ! 
O my bonnie Highland laddie, 
My handsome, charming Highland laddie ! 
May Heaven still guard, and him reward, 
Wi's bonnet blue and tartan plaidie ! 

When first he landed on our strand, 
The gracefu' looks o' that brave laddie, 

Made every Highland heart to warm, 
And lang to wear the tartan plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

When Geordie heard the news belyve, 
That he was come before his daddie, 

He thirty thousand pounds would give, 

To catch him in his tartan plaidie. 

O my bonnie, &c. " 

* The first intelligence of Charles's arrival was not credited by the 
lords of the regency, who even suspected the integrity of those by 
whom it was conveyed. But they were soon seriously alarmed when 
they learned that the information was true. A courier was dispatched 
to Holland to hasten the return of King George, who arrived in 
England about the latter end of August, and a proclamation was 
issued, offering a reward of L. 30,000 to any one who should take 
Prince Charles either dead or alive. This proclamation was coun- 
tervailed by another from Prince Charles offering the like sura for 


But Geordie kend the better way, 
To stay at hame wi' his braw lady, 

Wha canna fight, he needs must pay, 
To ward the glent o' Highland plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

He sent John Cope unto the north, 

Wi' a' his men for battle ready ; 
But Charlie bauldly sallied forth, 

Wi' bonnet blue and belted plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

Cope rade a race to Inverness, 

And fand the prince gane south already, 
Like lion bold, all uncontroll'd, 

Wi' belt and brand, and tartan plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

securing the person of King George ; of which the following is a li- 
teral copy :— 

" Charles, Prince of Wales, &c. regent of the kingdoms of Scot- 
land, England, France, and Ireland, and tlae dominions thereunto 

" Whereas we have seen a scandalous and malicious paper, pub- 
lished in the style and form of a proclamation, bearing date the 1st 
instant, wherein, under the pretence of bringing us to justice, like 
our royal ancestor King Charles I. of blessed memory, there is a 
reward of thirty thousand pounds sterling, promised to those who 
shall deliver us into the hands of our enemies ; we could not but be 
moved with a just indignation at so insolent an attempt. And 
though, from our nature and principles, we abhor and detest a 
practice so unusual among Christian princes, we cannot but, out 
of a just regard to the dignity of our person, promise the like 
reward of thirty thousand pounds sterling to him. or those who 
shall seize and secure, till our farther orders, the person of the 
Elector of Hanover, whether landing, or attempting to land, in any 
part of his majesty's dominions. Should any fatal accident happen 
from hence, let the blame lie entirely at the door of those who first 
set the infamous example. 

" Given in our camp, p.t Kinlocheill, August the 22d, 1745. 
" By his Highness's command, 



Cope turn'd the chase, and left the place ; 

The Lothians was the next land ready ; 
And then he swore that at Gladsmuir 

He wad disgrace the Highland plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

Says he, " My lads, I tell you true, 
I'm sorry that they're sae unready ; 

Small is the task we have to do, 
To catch this rebel in his plaidie."* 
O my bonnie, &c. 

The prince he rose by break of day, 
And blythely was he buskit ready. 

" Let's march," said he ; " Cope langs to see 
The bonnet blue and belted plaidie." 
O my bonnie, &c. 

They were na slack, nae flinching back ; 

In rank and file they marched steady ; 
For they were bent, with one consent, 

To fight for him that wore the plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

But soon John Cope cried to his men, 

" For gudesake turn, ye dogs, and speed ye, 

And let each man 'scape as he can. 
The deil confound the tartan plaidie !" 
O my bonnie, &c. 

* Among other boasting speeches ascribed to Cope, the following 
is said to have been addressed by him to his army the day before the 
battle. ' Gentlemen, you are about to fight with a parcel of rabble, 
a small number of Highlanders, a parcel of brutes. You can ex- 
pect no booty from such a poor despicable pack. But I have au- 
thority to declare that you shall have eight full hours plunder and 
pillage of Edinburgh, Leith, and suburbs, (the places which harboured 
and succoured them) at your discretion with impunity.' The popu- 
lar belief in Cope's arrogance in this way, no doubt gave rise to the 


Some rade on horse, some ran on foot ; 

Their heels were light, their heads were giddy: 
But, late or air, they'll lang nae mair 

To meet the lad wi' the Highland plaidie. 
O my bonnie, &c. 

Now, where is Cope, wi' a' his brag ? 

Say, is the craven gane already ? 
O leeze me on my bonnie lad, 

His bonnet blue and belted plaidie ! 
O my bonnie, &c. 


By the side of a country kirk wall, 

A sullen Whig minister stood, 
Enelos'd in an old soaken stall, 

Apart from the rest of the crowd. 
His hat was hung high on a pin, 

With the cocks so devoutly display'd ; 
And the cloak that conceal'd ev'ry sin 

On the pulpit was carefully spread. 

In pews and in benches below 
The people were variously plac'd ; 

Some attentively gaz'd at the show, 

Some loll'd like blythe friends at a feast. 

satirical strain in which every thing regarding him was afterwards 
said or sung. 

* This is a satire on the Rev. Mr Forbes of Pitney-Cadell, minister 
of Old Deer. It at the same time serves to illustrate in some degree 
the share which the clergy took in the politics of that period, as does 
also the following anecdote : After the battle of Preston, and 
while Prince Charles was residing at Holyrood-House, some of the 
Presbyterian clergy continued to preach in the churches of that city, 
and publicly prayed for King George, without suffering the least 
punishment or molestation. One minister in particular, of the 


With a volley of coughs and of sighs, 
A harsh noisy murmur was made, 

While Pitney threw up both his eyes, 
And thus he began to his trade : 

" My dearly beloved," quoth he, 

" Our religion is now at a stand ; 
The Pretender's come over the sea, 

And his troops are disturbing our land. 
The Papists will sing their old song, 

And burn all our Bibles with fire, 
And we shall be banish'd ere long ; 

'Tis all that the Tories desire. 

" They'll tell you he's Protestant bred, 

And he'll guard your religion and laws ; 
But, believe me, whate'er may be said, 

He's a foe to the Whigs and their cause. 
May thick darkness, as black as the night, 

Surround each rebellious pate ! 
And confusion to all that will fight 

In defence of that dastardly brat ! 

" Our kirks, which we've long time enjoy'd, 

Will be fill'd with dull rogues in their gowns, 
And our stipends will then be employ'd 

On fellows that treat us like clowns. 
Their bishops, their deans, and the rest 

Of the pope's antichristian crew 
Will be then of our livings possest, 

And they'll lord it o'er us and o'er you. 

name of MacVicar, being solicited by some Highlanders to pray fur 
their prince, promised to comply with their request, and performed 
his promise in words to this effect : " And as for the young prince, 
who has come hither in quest of an earthly crown, grant, O Lord, 
that he may speedily receive a crown of glory." 


" Instead of a sleep in your pews, 

You'll be vex'd with repeating the creed ; 
You'll be dunn'd and demurr'd with their news, 

If this their damn'd project succeed. 
Their mass and their set forms of prayer 

Will then in our pulpits take place : 
We must kneel till our breeches are bare, 

And stand at the glore and the grace. 

" Let us rise like true Whigs in a band, 

As our fathers have oft done before, 
And slay all the Tories off hand, 

And we shall be quiet once more. 
But before he accomplish his hopes, 

May the thunder and lightning come down ; 
And though Cope could not vanquish his troops, 

May the clouds keep him back from the 
throne !" 

Thus when he had ended his task, 

With the sigh of a heavenly tone, 
The precentor got up in his desk, 

And sounded his musical drone. 
Now the hat is ta'en down from the pin, 

And the cloak o'er the shoulders is cast ; 
The people throng out with a din, 

The devil take him that is last ! 


To your arms, to your arms, my bonnie High- 
land lads ! [the drum ! 
To your arms, to your arms, at the touk of 

* This is a mere street song, but written with considerable spirit 
and obviously well adapted to excite the rabblement. Hogg says he 


The battle trumpet sounds, put on your white 
For Charlie, the great prince regent, is come. 
There is not the man in a' our clan, 

That would nuckle to the lad that is five feet 
ten ; [pipe 

And the tune that we strike on the tabor and 
Is " The king shall enjoy his own again." 

To your arms, to your arms ! Charlie yet shall 

be our king ! 

To your arms, all ye lads that are loyal and 

true ! [can ding, 

To your arms, to your arms ! His valour nane 

And he's on to the south wi' a jovial crew. 
Good luck to the lads that wear the tartan plaids ! 

Success to Charlie and a' his train ! 
The right and the wrang they a' shall ken ere 
And the king shall enjoy his own again. 

The battle of Gladsmuir it was a noble stour, 
And weel do we ken that our young prince 
wan ; [tartan plaids, 

The gallant Lowland lads, when they saw the 
Wheel'd round to the right, and away they ran : 
For Master Johnnie Cope, being destitute of 
Took horse for his life, and left his men ; 
In their arms he put no trust, for he knew it 
was just 
That the king should enjoy his own again. 

took it from the mouth of old Lizzy Lamb, a cottager at Ladhope on 
Yarrow, and thinks it mast have been composed to the tune of 

" The King shall enjoy his own again." 


To your arms, to your arms, my bonnie High- 
land lads ! 
We winna brook the rule o' a German thing. 
To your arms, to your arms, wi' your bonnets 
and your plaids ! 
And hey for Charlie, and our ain true king! 
Good luck shall be the fa' o' the lad that's awa, 
The lad whose honour never yet knew stain : 
The wrang shall gae down, the king get the 
And ilka honest man his own again. 


Ye warlike men, with tongue and pen, 

Who boast such loud bravadoes, 
And swear you'll tame, with sword and flame, 

The Highland desperadoes, 
Attend my verse, while I rehearse 

Your modern deeds of glory, 
And tell how Cope, the nation's hope, 

Did beat the rebel Tory. 

* Prince Charles having collected about five thousand men, resolved 
to make an irruption into England, -which he accordingly entered by 
the west border on the sixth day of November. Carlisle was invest- 
ed, and in less than three days surrendered : the keys were delivered 
to him at Brampton, by the mayor (Pattison) and aldermen on their 
knees. Here he found a considerable quantity of arms : his father was 
proclaimed King of Great Britain, and himself regent, by the magis- 
trates in their formalities. General Wade being apprised of his pro- 
gress, decamped from Newcastle and advanced across the country as 
far as Hexham, though the fields were covered with snow, and the 
roads almost impassable. There he received intelligence that Carlisle 
was reduced, and forthwith returned to his former station. The 
principal persons in the Prince's army were, the Duke of Perth, ge- 
neral ; Lord George Murray, lieutenant-general ; Lord Elcho, son to 
the Earl of Wemyss, colonel of the life-guards ; the Earl of Kilmar- 
nock, colonel of a regiment mounted and accoutred as hussars ; Lord 
Pitsligo, general of the horse ; the Lords Nairn, Ogilvie, Dundee, 


With sword and targe, in dreadful rage, 

The mountain lads descended ; 
They cut and hack, alack ! alack ! 

The battle soon was ended, 
And happy he who first could flee : 

Both soldiers and commanders 
Swore, in a fright, they'd rather fight 

In Germany or Flanders. 

Some lost their wits, some fell in fits, 

Some stuck in bogs and ditches ; 
Sir John, aghast, like lightning past, 

Degrading sore his breeches. 
The blue-cap lads, with belted plaids, 

Syne scamper'd o'er the Border, 
And bold Carlisle, in noble style, 

Obey'd their leader's order. 

O Pattison ! ohon ! ohon ! 

Thou wonder of a mayor ! 
Thou blest thy lot thou wert no Scot, 

And bluster'd like a player. 
What hast thou done with sword or gun 

To baffle the Pretender ? 
Of mouldy cheese and bacon grease, 

Thou much more fit defender ! 

and Balmerino; Messvs Sheridan and Sulivan, Irish gentlemen; Ge. 
neral M'Donald, his aid-decamp ; and John Murray of Broughton, 
Esq. his secretary. Prince Charles, however, on advancing farther 
into the country, found himself miserably disappointed in his expec- 
tations of aid from the Jacobites of England. Except a few of the 
common people of Manchester, not a soul appeared in his behalf. 
He therefore called a council at Derby, in which, after many warm 
debates, it was at length resolved to measure back the route by which 
they had advanced, and return to Scotland without delay. This they 
accomplished in a very masterly manner, though betwixt two hostile 
armies, the one under the duke of Cumberland, and the other under 
General Wade. Notwithstanding the excessive cold, hunger, and 
fatigue to which they must have been exposed during such a march 


O front of brass, and brain of ass 

With heart of hare compounded ! 
How are thy boasts repaid with costs, 

And all thy pride confounded ! 
Thou need'st not rave, lest Scotland crave 

Thy kindred or thy favour ; 
Thy wretched race can give no grace, 

No glory thy behaviour. 


Up and rin awa, Hawley, 
Up and rin awa, Hawley ; 
The philabegs are coming down 
To gie your lugs a claw, Hawley. 
Young Charlie's face, at Dunipace, 

Has gien your mou' a thraw, Hawley ; 
A blasting sight for bastard wight, 
The warst that e'er he saw, Hawley. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

in the depth of winter, they left behind no sick, and lost very few 
stragglers; but retired with deliberation, and carried off their can- 
non in the face of the enemy. 

* After Prince Charles' army had crossed the border, on their re- 
turn from England, he directed his march by the way of Dumfries to 
Glasgow, where he exacted heavy contributions, on account of its 
attachment to the existing government, for whose service it had 
raised a regiment of 900 men, under the command of the Earl of 
Home, He then advanced towards Stirling, when, being joined by 
Lord John Drummond with considerable reinforcements, he invested 
the castle commanded by General Blakeney. In their operations 
here, however, very little progress was made, and it was soon learned 
that General Hawley, who had succeeded Cope in the command of 
the Government forces in Scotland, was approaching from Edinburgh 
■with a view to relieve Stirling Castle. This intelligence was received 
on the 13th of January, while the Highland army was cantoned about 
Bannockburn. Next day Hawley's army arrived at Falkirk, and it 
was instantly resolved by the Prince to attack it. On the 17th, every 
thing was in readiness, and the Highlanders began their march in 
two columns, and had forded the Carron, within three miles of the 


Gae dight your face, and turn the chase, 

For fierce the wind does blaw, Hawley ; 
And Highland Geordie's at your tail, 

WT Drummond, Perth, and a', Hawley. 
Had ye but staid wi' lady's maid 

An hour, or maybe twa, Hawley, 
Your bacon bouk and bastard snout, 

Ye might hae sav'd them a', Hawley. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

Whene'er you saw the bonnets blue 

Down frae the Torwood draw, Hawley, 
A wisp in need did you bestead, 

Perhaps you needed twa, Hawley. 
And General Husk, that battle-busk, 

The prince o' warriors a', Hawley, 
With whip and spur he cross'd the furr, 

As fast as he could ca', Hawley. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

I hae but just ae word to say, 

And ye maun hear it a', Hawley ; 

English camp, before their intention was discovered. Such was 
Hawley's obstinacy, self-conceit, or contempt of his enemy, that he 
slighted the repeated intelligence he had received of their motions 
and designs, in the firm belief that they durst not hazard an engage- 
ment. He was very soon convinced of his mistake. The Highlanders 
advanced, and attacked with the same impetuosity as at Prestonpans. 
The royal army, after one irregular discharge, turned their backs, 
and fled in the utmost consternation. In all probability, few or none 
of them would have escaped, had not General Huske, and Brigadier 
Cholmondely rallied part of some regiments and made a stand, which 
favoured the retreat of the rest to Falkirk, from whence they retired 
in confusion to Edinburgh, leaving possession of the field of battle, 
and part of their tents and artillery to the enemy. This song is ludi- 
crously commemorative of the battle, and is exceedingly severe on 
General Hawley, who was reputed to be a natural son of King George. 
By " Highland Geordie," is meant the Lord George Murray, who that 
day led the Prince's troops to the attack with all his accustomed de- 
cision of bravery. The air of the song is obviously the popular one 
of " Up and ivaur them a', Willie." 


We came to charge wi' sword and targe, 

And nae to hunt ava, Hawley. 
When we came down aboon the town, 

And saw nae faes at a', Hawley, 
We coiddna, sooth ! believe the truth, 

That ye had left us a', Hawley. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

Nae man bedeen believ'd his een, 

Till your brave back he saw, Hawley, 
That bastard brat o' foreign cat 

Had neither pluck nor paw, Hawley. 
We didna ken but ye were men 

Wha fight for foreign law, Hawley. 
Gae fill your wame wi' brose at hame, 

It fits you best of a', Hawley. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

The very frown o' Highland loon, 

It gart you drap the jaw, Hawley, 
It happ'd the face of a' disgrace, 

And sicken'd Southron maw, Hawley. 
The very gleam o' Highland flame, 

It pat ye in a thaw, Hawley. 
Gae back and kiss your daddie's miss ; 
Ye're nought but cowards a', Hawley. 
Up and scour awa, Hawley, 
Up and scour awa, Hawley ; 
The Highland dirk is at your doup, 
And that's the Highland law, Hawley. 


The Highlandmen came down the hill, 
And owre the knowe wi' right gude will ; 
Now Geordie's men may brag their fill, 
For wow but they were braw, man ! 

* The ease with which the government army was overcome by the 


They had three gen'rals o' the best, 
Wi' lairds, and lords, and a' the rest, 
Chiels that were bred to stand the test, 
And couldna rin awa, man. 

The Highlandmen are savage loons, 
Wi' barkit houghs and burly crowns ; 
They canna stand the thunder-stoun's 
Of heroes bred wi' care, man — 

Highlanders at Falkirk-muir, is well described in this popular rant. 
Although the latter fought with their usual intrepidity, they did not 
follow up the advantage which the panic of their adversaries afforded 
them, from a notion that so sudden a flight was only a ruse de guerre, 
and that they should have the brunt of the battle to sustain at the 
bottom of the field. Under this apprehension they marched on with 
more caution than they were accustomed to show on such occasions, 
and when they reached the camp and found it deserted, they looked 
to one another with astonishment, often repeating the question in 
Gaelic, " Where's the men, where the devil have they gone ?" AH 
the accounts which have been published of this battle demonstrate 
that egregious mistakes were committed by the commanders on both 
sides. Hawley's troops fled when there was no need for it, and con- 
tinued their flight after they might have rallied with ease, and in all 
likelihood regained the honour of the field. The Highland command- 
ers on the other hand, seem to have been dumbfoundered with their 
own success ; and actually did not know that they had gained the 
battle till it was too late to follow it up by a pursuit and total rout of 
their enemy. The following graphic particulars have been detailed 
by an eye-witness in the Prince's army : — " As our army advanced 
upon the English lines, a body of eleven hundred cavalry came down 
upon our right, and did not halt till they were within twenty paces 
of our first line to induce us to fire. The Highlanders, who had been 
admonished to reserve their fire till the enemy was within musket 
length of them, the moment the cavalry halted, discharged their 
muskets, and killed about eighty men, each of them having aimed at 
a rider. The commander of this body of cavalry, who had advanced 
some paces before his men, was of the number. The cavalry closing 
their ranks, which were opened by our discharge, put spurs to 
their horses, and rushed upon us at a hard trot, breaking our 
ranks, throwing down every thing before them, and trampling 
the Highlanders under the feet of their horses. A most singular 
and extraordinary combat immediately followed. Such of the High- 
landers as were thrown down and not quite disabled, thrust their 
dirks into the bellies of the horses; some seized the riders by their 
clothes, dragged them down, and stabbed them with their dirks ; 
several again used their pistols; but few of them had sufficient space 


Of men that are their country's stay, 
These Whiggish braggarts of a day. 
The Highlandmen came down the brae, 
The heroes were not there, man. 

Says brave Lochiel, " Pray, have we won ? 

I see no troop, I hear no gun." 

Says Drummonds, " Faith, the battle's done, 

I know not how nor why, man. 
But, my good lords, this thing I crave, 
Have we defeat these heroes brave ?" 
Says Murray, " I believe we have : 

If not, we're here to try, man." 

to handle their swords. Macdonald of Clan-Ronald, whilst lying upon 
the ground under a dead horse which had fallen upon him, without 
the power of extricating himself, saw a dismounted horseman strug- 
gling with a Highlander; "Fortunately," said he, " the Highlander 
being the strongest, threw his antagonist, and having killed him with 
his dirk, he came and drew me with difficulty from under the horse." 
At this point the resistance of the Highlanders was so incredibly ob- 
stinate, that the English, after being for some time engaged pell-mell 
with them in their ranks, were at length forced to retire. The High, 
landers did not neglect this advantage, but pursued them keenly with 
their swords, running as fast as their horses, and not allowing them 
a moment's time to rally. The English cavalry were thus driven back 
upon their own infantry, which were consequently thrown into dis- 
order, and a panic flight immediately ensued of the whole of their 
left wing. The Clan Cameron having at this moment made an attack 
upon the English right, where there were only infantry, put it also to 
flight ,• but the Highlanders, when descending the hill in pursuit of 
the enemy, received on their left flank, a discharge from three regi« 
ments placed in a hollow at the foot of the hill, which they did not 
perceive till the moment they received their fire, which greatly in- 
commoded them. Mr. John Roy Stuart, an officer in the service of 
France, afraid lest this might be an ambuscade laid for us by the 
English, called out to the Highlanders to stop the pursuit ; and the 
cry of" stop" flew instantly from rank to rank, and threw our whole 
army into disorder. Nevertheless, the enemy continued their re- 
treat, and the three regiments at the foot of the hill followed the 
rest. Fortunately they did not perceive the disorder into which our 
ranks had thus been thrown, and of which Colonel Roy Stuart, by ex- 
cessive caution, was the only and innocent cause. The Highlanders 
were in complete disorder, dispersed here and there, and the different 
clans mingled pell-mell together, while a storm of wind and rain, 
and the obscurity of night fall, added every moment to the confusion. 


But tried they up, or tried they down, 
There was no foe in Falkirk town, 
Nor yet in a' the country roun', 

To break a sword at a', man. 
They were sae bauld at break o' day, 
When tow'rd the west they took their way ; 
But the Highlandmen came down the brae, 

And made the dogs to blaw, man. 

A tyke is but a tyke at best, 

A coward ne'er will stand the test, 

And Whigs at morn wha cock'd the crest, 

Or e'en had got a fa', man. 
O wae befa' these northern lads, 
Wi' their braid-swords and white cockades ! 
They lend sic hard and heavy blads, 

Our Whigs nae mair can craw, man. 

Although we had no reason for believing that we had lost the battle, 
as the English array had retreated ; yet the pursuit being so sud- 
denly stopped, every body was at a loss to guess at the real state ot 
matters, and all was suspense and doubt, till about eight o'clock in 
the evening, when it was rumoured that Hawley and his whole army 
were flying in disorder on the great road to Edinburgh. Lord KiU 
marnock was the first who discovered their flight. Being well ac- 
quainted with the nature of the ground, as a part of his estates lay in 
that neighbourhood, he was sent by the Prince to reconnoitre the 
enemy in their retreat, and having crossed the country through bye- 
paths and fields beyond the town of Falkirk, he then saw the English 
army panic-struck, and flying in the greatest disorder, as fast as their 
legs could carry them. When his lordship returned and communicated 
this to the Prince, the enemy's camp and all their tents and baggage 
were soon in possession of the Highlanders. The English lost about 500 
killed, and 700 prisoners. The loss of killed and wounded in the High- 
land army did not exceed one hundred and thirty men. In their flight 
the English took one prisoner in a very singular manner. Mr Mac- 
donald, a major of one of the Macdonald regiments, having dismount- 
ed an English officer, took possession of his horse, which was a very 
beautiful animal, and immediately mounted it. When the English 
cavalry fled, the horse ran off with the unfortunate Mr. Macdonald, 
notwithstanding all his efforts to restrain him; nor could the ani- 
mal be stopped till they reached the head of the regiment, of which, 
apparently, its master was the commander. The melancholy, and 
at the same time ludicrous, figure which the poor Highland major 



God prosper our king, and the king's noble sons ! 
May their praises resound from the mouths of 

their guns, 
Till rebellion and all civil discord shall cease, 
And these realms be restor'd to a nourishing 

peace. [has made, 

How this war first began, and the progress 't 
Has never been sung, tho' 't has often been said; 
Yet great deeds to record to great poets belongs, 
As Homer and Virgil set forth in their songs. 

The Scots, as the Swiss, making fighting a trade, 

(For ever betraying, for ever betray'd,) 

Like the frogs, sick of Log, choose a king of 

their own •. [the bone. 

Twill ne'er out of the flesh what is bred in 
From Rome a young hero, well known, they 

invite [right : 

To accept of a crown which he claims as his 
In city and town they their monarch proclaim, 
And their old king and new king are one and 

the same. 

would cut, when he thus saw himself the victim of his ambition to 
possess a fine horse, may be more easily conceived than described. It 
ultimately cost him his life upon a scaffold. " 

* This is a sort of mongrel squib levelled at both parties, though the 
writer evidently leans to the side of the Jacobites. The concluding 
verses refer to the state of matters immediately posterior to the battle 
of Falkirk muir. Instead of advancing to Edinburgh and availing 
themselves of the panic terror which had seized the English, to cut off 
the small force of 4000 men, which was all that Hawley could muster 
out of his original army of 13000, after his retreat, Prince Charles, un- 
der the advice of a foolish French engineer, of the name of Mirabelle 
wasted his time and the spirit of his troops in attempting to reduce 
Stirling ca»Ue. The chevalier Johnstone, in his memoirs, is bitterly sar- 
castic on the subject of this siege, and justly ascribes to it all the disas- 
ters that subsequently befel the Highland army. Three weeks were 


When these tidings reach'd England, three chief- 
tains they chose, 

Rebellion to rout, and its progress oppose ; 

But first, second, and third, were all struck with 
dismay : 

Thrice happy the man who could first run away. 

Now great preparations proclaim their great 
fears ; [dears. 

The militia, the Dutch, the troops rais'd by the 

They associate, subscribe, fast, vote, and address, 

For you know loyal subjects can do nothing less. 

Horse, foot, and dragoons, from lost Flanders 

they call, 
With Hessians and Danes, and the devil and all, 
The hunters and rangers, led by Oglethorpe, 
And the church, at the bum of the bishop of 

And, pray, who so fit to lead forth this parade, 
As the babe of Tangier, my old grandmother 

Wade ? [so slow, 

Whose cunning's so quick, but whose motion's 
That the rebels march'd on, while he stuck in 

the snow. 

wasted in forming a masqued battery, which was no sooner opened 
than it was destroyed by the guns of the castle. And just when the un- 
dertaking was discovered to be utterly useless, the Prince ascertained 
that not only had Edinburgh served as a rallying point for Hawley's 
fugitives, who had nearly all rejoined their colours, but that the Duke 
of Cumberland had arrived there with such reinforcements as would 
enable the government immediately to take the field again with over- 
whelming effect. Prince Charles at first resolved to march against the 
Duke, and reviewed the Highlanders at Bannockburn with that inten- 
tion ; but finding that great numbers of the different clansmen were 
missing, whom his long stay at Stirling, and the proximity of their own 
country had induced to return home, to secure their booty, he was re- 
luctantly forced to retreat, and to abandon all his artillery, with the 
exception of a few field pieces. " Thus," says Johnstone, " to our 
eternal shame, we fled with precipitation, from the same army which 
we had completely beaten sixteen days before. The absurd wish to 


Poor London, alas ! is scar'd out of its wits 
With arms and alarms, as sad soldiers as cits ; 
Sure of dying by inches, whatever cause thrives, 
Since by parting with money they part with 

their lives. 
But the genius of Britain appears in the duke, 
Their courage to raise, and their fears to rebuke : 
He march'd day and night till he got to the rear, 
And then sent us word he had nothing to fear. 

All night, under arms, the brave duke kept his 

But the devil a rebel was there to be found :_ 
Then the foot got on horseback, the news give 

account ; [mount. 

But that would not do, so the horsemen dis- 
A fierce fight then ensu'd by a sort of owl-light, 
Where none got the day, because it was night, 
And so dark, that the truth on't we never shall 

Unless 'tis clear'd up by another gazette. 

Ancore ! Now let's have th' other touch of the 

For singing can ne'er put things in the wrong. 
See, ha! how the rebels run off from Carlisle! 
Our duke takes a snuff, and must stop for a 


nsignificant castle, which could be of no real utility to us, 
produced a series of effects which ruined the Prince's enterprise, and 
brought a great number of his partizans to the scaffold." The High- 
land army accordingly left Stirling on the 21st January, and marched 
for Inverness. On the morning of their retreat the church of St. 
Ninian's, where they had fifty barrels of powder deposited, blew up 
with a tremendous explosion, and amazed all the country round as if 
an earthquake had happened. The last verse of this song, however 
Sudicrous, is truly prophetic of what afterwards occurred to the 


Now, that England is free, let the deil take the 

Who hate great Hanover, and hatch those 

maim'd plots ; 
The dirty posteriors of this our realm, 
Who deserves to be rump'd by all those at the 


Great William posts back to his royal papa, 
And sends them down Hawley to hang them 

up a'. 
Brave Hawley advances to fight at Falkirk, 
But a Jacobite storm sends him back with a jirk. 
He lost but his cannon, his camp, and his men, 
All which the brave duke can soon get again. 
See, he comes in four days, he never will yield ; 
Should the living run off, yet the dead keep the 


Now great Hawley led on, with great Husk at 

his tail, 
And the duke in the centre, this sure cannot 

fail : 
Horse, foot, and dragoons ; pell-mell, knock 

them down ; 
But, Gadzoons, where are they? Oh, damn them, 

they're gon e. 
By a Harlequin trick the vile dogs ran away, 
Fifty miles in a morning, to th' other side Tay ; 
Then in their strong-holds they laugh us to 

Such scurvy damn'd usage is not to be borne. 

'Tis true th' affair's over, the business is done, 
But we've miss'd all our hacking and hewing 
for fun, 


At least for this bout ; for they'll soon be sur- 
rounded ; 
Then how will the French and the pope be 
confounded? [Aberdeen, 

We must march then to Stirling, to Perth, 
And God knows where next, ere these scoun- 
drels be seen. [all ; 
Then pluck up your courage, brave Englishmen 
The Scots, as the weakest, must go to the wall. 

Claymores long adieu, now your edge is un- 
steel'd ; [wield. 

Ye Camerons, no more you such weapons must 

The duke says the word, and the clans are un- 
done : 

When your mountains down tumble, ev'ry soul 
of you's gone. 

Then farewell M'Phersons, M'Flegs, and M<- 
Phuns, [Duns, 

M'Donalds, M'Drummonds, M'Devils, M'- 

M'Dotards, M'Wades, and M'Marches, M'- 


M'Geordies, M'Yeltochs, M'Rumps, and M'- 


On by moss and mountain green, 
Let's buckle a', and on thegither, 

Down the burn, and through the dean, 
And leave the muir amang the heather. 

* This Song is modern, but is inserted here as descriptive of the 
feelings of the Highlanders towards the Chevalier and his cause, 
even when fortune had obviously deserted him, and when his diffi- 
culties were daily accumulating after the retreat from Stirling to 


Owre the muir amang the heather, 
Owre the muir amang the heather, 
Whae'er flee, it winna be 

The lads frae 'mang the hills o' heather. 

Sound the trumpet, blaw the horn, 

Let ilka kilted clansman gather, 
We maun up and ride the morn, 

And leave the muir amang the heather. 
Owre the muir, &c. 

Young Charlie's sword is by his side, 

Come weel, come woe, it maksna whether, 

We'll follow him whate'er betide, 

And leave the muir amang the heather. 
Owre the muir, &c. 

Fareweel my native valley ; thee 

I'll never leave for ony ither ; 
But Charlie king of Scots maun be, 

Or I'll lie low amang the heather. 
Owre the muir, &c. 

Fareweel a while, my auld cot-house, 
When I come name I'll big anither, 

And wow but we will be right crouse 
When Charlie rules our hills o' heather. 
Owre the muir, &c. 

Hark ! the bagpipe sounds amain, 

Gather, ilka leal man, gather, 
These mountains are a' Charlie's ain, 

These green-sward dells, an' muirs o' heather. 
Owre the muir amang the heather, 
Owre the muir amang the heather, 
Wha wadna fight for Charlie's right, 
To gie him back his hills o' heather? 



" From whence, and why such impudence, 

Thus boldly to appear, 
And in our royal presence stand ? 

What message brought you here ?" 
" I'm one, great sir, of your own stamp, 

My name I need not tell, 
Since it is so well known on earth, 

And all the nooks of hell. 

" You've heard no doubt, of mighty NolLf 

Who kept the world in awe ; 
And made these very walls to shake, 

Whose word was then a law. 
I come express to you, great sir, 

From our infernal cell, 
Where your great dad,} and Nassau's prince,§ 

And Walpole,t greet you well. 

" With mighty news I fraughted come, 

Here is a full detail, 
Which Grosset brought express this night 

Straight from the field to hell. 
It much exceeds the power of words, 

Or painting to describe 
What change these news made on the looks 

Of all our scorched tribe. 

* This is a bitter explosion of Jacobite ill humour. The writer 
must have been a keen high church and tory partizan, since his 
spleen appears to have been directed as much against the dead as the 

'Toliver Cromwell. * George I. $ King William. 

«J Sir Robert Walpole, (Earl of Orford,) prime minister to George 
I. and II. 


" Such a procession, Pluto owns, 

He never saw before, 
What crowds of kings, and mitred heads, 

But of usurpers more. 
Your dad and Nassau first appear'd, 

Clad in their royal buff, 
And loyal Sarum,* next advanced 

With his well singed ruff. 

" Then Calvin and Hugh Peters f they 

Joined Luther and John Knox ; 
And Bradshawf with his loyal bench, 

A set of godly folks. 
And I was station'd in the rear, 

By right and due my post ; 
Where Whigs and Independents made 

A most prodigious host. 

* Bishop Burnet was born at Edinburgh in 1643, and educated 
at Aberdeen. In 1664, he went to Holland ; and on his return was 
presented to the living of Saltoun. He was afterwards appointed 
divinity professor in Glasgow, and was employed in writing Memoirs 
of the Dukes of Hamilton. At the accession of James II. he went 
abroad, and settled in Holland. James applied to the States to give 
him up ; but Burnet having married a Dutch lady, was considered a 
citizen, and the demand refused. He accompanied the Prince of 
Orange to England, and was made Bishop of Salisbury, where he con- 
tinued till his death in 1715. There are many poetical philippics 
against him extant, of which the Song here given may be deemed 
a sufficient specimen. 

f Hugh Peters was born at Fowey, in Cornwall, in 1599, and was 
educated at St. John's College, Cambridge, from whence he was ex- 
pelled for irregular behaviour. He afterwards went on the Stage, 
where he acquired that buffoonery which subsequently distinguished 
him in the Pulpit. He was appointed lecturer of St. Sepulchre's, 
London ; but having an intrigue with a married woman, fled to Rot- 
terdam, where he joined the Independents. On the breaking out of 
the rebellion he returned to London, and became a zealous preacher 
in the cause of parliament. For his activity in the rebellion, espe- 
cially at the murder of Charles I., he was hung and quartered after 
the Restoration in 1660. 

t John Bradshaw, serjeant-at-law, was one of the judges who 
passed sentence on King Charles I. 


1 These worthies all, great sir, expect 

Right soon to see you there, 
Together with your Cumbrian duke * 

And Shelly-coat,f your heir. 
Thus my commission I've obey'd, 

And e'er I downward bend, 
Shall wait with pleasure infinite 

What answer you will send." 

Pray make my humble compliments 

To all our friends below ; 
And for these welcome news you brought 

Most grateful thanks I owe. 
We still your principles pursue, 

And shall subservient be, 
Till we and all our progeny 

Our destined quarters see."| 


The heath-cock craw'd o'er muir an' dale ; 
Red raise the sun o'er distant vale, 
Our Northern clans, wi' dinsome yell, 
Around their chiefs were gath'ring. 
" O, Duncan, are ye ready yet ? 
M'Donald, are ye ready yet ? 
O, Fraser, are ye ready yet? 

To join the clans in the morning." 

* William, Duke of Cumberland. 

t Frederic, Prince of Wales, father to George III. 

$ Though this song be modern, and from the pen of that redoubt, 
able genius, Willison Glass, it is not devoid of the spirit which might 
be supposed to characterise a bard of 1745, in commemorating the fe- 
tal morning of Culloden field. After the Prince and his army retreated 
to Inverness, the events of the campaign were a series of mishaps till 
the final catastrophe in that battle. About the middle of April it 
was ascertained that the Duke of Cumberland and the English army 


" Nae mair we'll chase the fleet, fleet roe, 
O'er downie glen or mountain brow, 
But rush like tempest on the foe, 
WT sword an' targe this morning." 
" O, Duncan, &c." 

were approaching from Aberdeen, and in a Council of War, it was 
resolved to march against them, and endeavour to take them by sur- 
prise during the night. From various causes, however, the columns 
of the Highlanders were retarded on the way, so as to prevent their 
arrival at the Duke's camp before sunrise, and they were reluctantly 
obliged to measure back their steps. On their return to the position 
which they had previously occupied, great numbers of the men 
dispersed in quest of provisions, and many overcome with vreariness 
and sleep, threw themselves down on the heath, and along the park 
walls of Culloden. The repose of the poor fellows was soon interrupted, 
and not in the most agreeable manner. Intelligence reached the Prince 
that the enemy was in full march to attack him, and he instantly re- 
solved to hazard an engagement. The army was accordingly or- 
dered to be formed for that purpose. The condition of the troops 
at this crisis is thus described by the Chevalier Johnstone.— " Ex- 
hausted with hunger, and worn out with the excessive fatigues 
of the three last nights, as soon as we reached Culloden I turned off 
as fast as I could to Inverness, where, eager to recruit my strength by 
a little sleep, I tore off my clothes half asleep all the while; but 
when I had already one leg in bed, and was on the point of stretch- 
ing myself between the sheets, what was my surprise to hear the 
drum beat to arms, and the trumpets of the piquet of Fitzjames, 
sounding the call to boot and saddle, which struck me like a clap of 
thunder. I hurried on my clothes, my eyes half shut, and mounting 
a horse, I instantly repaired to our army, on the eminence on which 
we had remained for three days, and from which we saw the English 
at the distance of about two miles from us. They appeared at first 
disposed to encamp in the position where they then were, many of 
their tents being already erected ; but all at once their tents disap- 
peared, and we immediately perceived them in movement towards 
us. The view of our army making preparations for battle, probably 
induced the Duke of Cumberland to change his plan ; and, indeed, he 
must have been blind in the extreme, to have delayed attacking us 
instantly, in the deplorable situation in which we were, worn out 
with hunger and fatigue ; especially when he perceived, from our 
manoeuvre, that we were impatient to give battle, under every possi- 
ble disadvantage, and well disposed to facilitate our own destruction. 
The Duke, we were told, remained ignorant, till it was day, of the 
danger to which he had been exposed during the night ; and, as 
soon as he knew it, he broke up his camp, and followed us closely." 
The Highland army, wearied and exhausted as it was, accordingly 
awaited the attack, drawn up in order of battle to the number of 
1000 men in thirteen divisions, supplied with some pieces of artillery. 


" The Prince has come to claim his ain, 
A stem o' Stuart's glorious name ; 
What Highlander his sword wad hain, 
For Charlie's cause this morning, 
" O, Duncan, &c." 

On yonder hills our clans appear, 
The sun back frae their spears shines clear ; 
The Southron trumps fall on my ear, 
'Twill be an awfu' morning. 
" O, Duncan, &c." 

The royal army, -which was much more numerous, the duke imme- 
diately formed into three lines, disposed in excellent order, and about 
one o'clock in the afternoon the cannonading began. The Prince's 
artillery was ill served, and did very little execution ; but that of the 
Duke made dreadful havoc in the ranks of the Highlanders. The 
latter showed great impatience of this fire, and their first line was 
therefore ordered to advance. Five hundred of the clans then charged 
the Duke's left wing with their native impetuosity, and, as usual, 
were carrying every thing before them, when the English dragoons 
under Hawley, and the Argyleshire militia, by pulling down a park 
wall, were enabled to attack them in flank, and immediately the 
column was broken and thrown into irretrievable confusion. In less 
than thirty minutes this portion of the Highland army was totally 
defeated and the field was covered with the slain. The right wing 
retired towards the river Nairn in good order, with their pipes play- 
ing and the prince's standard displayed, and were not molested in their 
retreat. The fugitives of the left were not so fortunate. They were 
hotly pursued by the English cavalry, and the road, as far as Inver- 
ness, was strewed with dead bodies. A great number of people also, 
who, from motives of curiosity had come to see the battle, were 
sacrificed to the undistinguishing vengeance of the victors. The 
most shocking barbarities were committed with impunity by the 
soldiery, and the glory which the Duke of Cumberland might have 
acquired by this victory, was lost or sullied by the cruelties with which 
it was followed up. Twelve hundred of the Highlanders were slain 
in the heat of battle and in the pursuit. But not contented with the 
blood thus profusely shed, the English traversed the field after the 
action, and massacred those miserable wretches who lay maimed 
and expiring ; nay, even some officers acted a part in this cruel scene 
of deliberate assassination, the triumph of low illiberal minds, unin- 
spired by sentiment, untinctured by humanity. And, to crown all, the 
Duke himself ordered a barn, which contained many of the wounded 
Highlanders, to be set on fire ; and, having stationed soldiers 
around it, they, with fixed bayonets, drove back the unfortunate 


The contest lasted sail' an' lang, 
The pipers blew, the echoes rang, 
The cannon roar'd the clans amang, 
Culloden's awfu' morning. 

Duncan now nae mair seems keen, 
He's lost his dirk an' tartan sheen, 
His bannet's stain'd that ance was clean j 
Foid fa' that awfu' morning. 

But Scotland lang shall rue the day, 
She saw her flag sae fiercely flee ; 
Culloden hills were hills o' wae, 
It was an awfu' morning. 
Duncan now, &c. 

Fair Flora's gane her love to seek, 
The midnight dew fa's on her cheek ; 
What Scottish heart that will not weep, 
For Charlie's fate that morning ? 
Duncan now, &c. 


Fair lady, mourn the memory 

Of all our Scottish fame ! 
Fair lady, mourn the memory 

Ev'n of the Scottish name ! 

men who attempted to save themselves, into the flames; thus com- 
pelling them to undergo the most horrible of all deaths. In 
the meantime the Prince had escaped with the Duke of Perth, Lord 
Elcho, and a few horsemen ; he crossed the water of Nairn, and 
retired to the house of a gentleman in Strattharick, where he con- 
ferred with old Lord Lovat ; then he dismissed his followers, and 
wandered about a wretched fugitive, among the isles and mountains, 
for the space of five months, during which he underwent such a series 
of dangers, hardships, and misery, as have rarely been exceeded in 
real life, while in many particulars they surpass the fictitious crea- 
tions of poetry and romance. 

* As remarked by the Ettrick Shepherd, this is the first of a se- 


How proud were we of our young prince, 

And of his native sway ! 
But all our hopes are past and gone, 

Upon Culloden day. 

There was no lack of bravery there, 

No spare of blood or breath, 
For, one to two, our foes we dar'd, 

For freedom or for death. 
The bitterness of grief is past, 

Of terror and dismay : 
The die was risk'd, and foully cast, 

Upon Culloden day. 

And must thou seek a foreign clime, 

In poverty to pine, 
No friend or clansman by thy side, 

No vassal that is thine ? 
Leading thy young son by the hand, 

And trembling for his life, 
As at the name of Cumberland 

He grasps his father's knife.* 

■jies of mournful and affecting ditties on the results of that battle, 
in which all the hopes of the bold asseitors of the right of the 
Stuarts were for ever annihilated. The subject of the song is the 
address of a Highland bard to the Lady of his chief, in which he 
attempts to comfort her with the horrid proposal of killing her, 
and hiding her in the grave of her father, rather than suffer her 
to be taken or disgraced by the enemy — a strong feature of the dis- 
pair to which the unfortunate Highlanders were reduced, after the 
defeat and dispersion of the Prince's army. The air bears the 
same name with the song. The latter is called in the Gaelic, from 
-which it is a translation, " N'ciial sibh mar thackair dhuin>' 

* The sentiments expressed in this song were roused and greatly- 
aggravated by many abominable acts of attrocity committed by the 
royal army, even before the final catastrophe at Culloden. The 
following anecdote, related by the Chevalier Johnstone, while it 
illustrates the severe policy pursued by the existing government, 
shows by what unjustifiable acts the Highlanders were goaded to 
revenge, and needlessly rendered more fiercely wedded to the cause 


I cannot see thee, lady fair, 

Turn'd out on the world wide ; 
I cannot see thee, lady fair, 

Weep on the bleak hill side. 
Before such noble stem should bend 

To tyrant's treachery, 
I'll lay thee with thy gallant sire, 

Beneath the beechen tree. 

I'll hide thee in Clan- Ronald's isles, 

Where honour still bears sway ; 
I'll watch the traitor's hovering sails, 

By islet and by bay : 
And ere thy honour shall be stain'd, 

This sword avenge shall thee, 
And lay thee with thy gallant kin, 

Below the beechen tree. 

in which they had embarked. " As all the male vassals of the Duke 
of Athol were in our army, with his brother Lord George, the Duker 
of Cumberland sent a detachment of his troops into their country, 
who committed the most unheard-of cruelties, burning the houses 
of the gentlemen who were with the Prince ; and turning out their 
wives and children in the midst of winter, to perish in the mountains, 
with cold and hunger, after subjecting them to every species of infa- 
mous and brutal treatment. As soon as these proceedings were known 
at Inverness, the head quarters of our army, Lord George set off in- 
stantly with his whole clan, to take vengeance for this treatment ; and 
he contrived his march so secretly, passing through bye-ways across 
the mountains, that the enemy had no information of his approach. 
Having planned his march so as to arrive at Athol in the beginning 
of the nighti the detachment separated, dividing itself into small 
parties, every gentleman taking the shortest road to his own house ; 
and, in this manner, all the English were surprised in their sleep. 
Those who found their wives and daughters violated by the brutality 
of these monsters, and their families dying from hunger and the in- 
clemency of the season, made no prisoners. All the English received 
while they slept, the punishment which their barbarity merited.— 
They were either at once put to the sword or made prisoners, ex- 
cept two or three hundred men, who barricadoed themselves in the 
castle of the Duke of Athol, which could not be forced without can- 
non. The clan of Athol was the most numerous in our army 
amounting to from twelve to fifteen hundred men. A short time be- 
fore this, the Duke of Cumberland had despatched a detachment to 


What is there now in thee, Scotland, 

To us can pleasure give ? 
What is there now in thee, Scotland, 

For which we ought to live ? 
Since we have stood, and stood in vain, 

For all that we held dear, 
Still have we left a sacrifice 

To offer on our bier. 

A foreign and fanatic sway 

Our Southron foes may gall ; 
The cup is fill'd, they yet shall drink, 

And they deserve it all. 
But there is nought for us or ours, 

In which to hope or trust, 
But hide us in our fathers' graves, 

Amid our fathers' dust. 

lochiel's farewell.* 

Culloden, on thy swarthy brow 

Spring no wild flowers nor verdure fair : 

Thou feel'st not summer's genial glow, 
More than the freezing wintry air ; 

seize the Duchess of Perth in her castle, because her son was with 
the Prince; also the Viscountess Strathallan, whose husband and 
son were both in the Highland army. These two ladies were con- 
veyed to Edinburgh Castle, where they were shut up for nearly a 
year in a small and unhealthy prison. This trait of the Duke was 
thought even then quite unexampled ; and it was indignantly asked, 
Who ever before heard of rendering a mother responsible for the 
opinions of her son, or a wife for those of her husband ? 

* This is a modern production, and ascribed to the pen of John 
Grieve, Esq. It is finely descriptive of the consequences of the 
battle of Culloden to the high minded chieftain Lochiel, while every 
verse breathes the gennine spirit of poetry. In musical collections 
it is usually set to a most beautiful Highland air, and of course is 
still a great favourite with the natives of the hills. 


For once thou drank'st the hero's blood. 
And war's unhallow'd footsteps bore. 

The deeds unholy nature view'd, 
Then fled, and curs'd thee evermore. 

From Beauly's wild and woodland glens, 

How proudly Lovat's banners soar ! 
How fierce the plaided Highland clans 

Rush onward with the broad claymore ! 
Those hearts that high with honour heaved. 

The volleying thunder there laid low ! 
Or scatter'd like the forest leaves, 

When wintry winds begin to blow ! 

Where now thy honours, brave Lochiel ! 

The braided plume's torn from thy brow, 
What must thy haughty spirit feel, 

When skulking like the mountain roe ! 
While wild-birds chant from Lochy's bowers. 

On April eve, their loves and joys ; 
The Lord of Lochy's loftiest towers, 

To foreign lands an exile flies. 

To his blue hills that rose in view, 

As o'er the deep his galley bore, 
We often look'd, and cried, " Adieu ! 

I'll never see Lochaber more ! 
Though now thy wounds I cannot heal, 

My dear, my injured native land ! 
In other climes thy foe shall feel 

The weight of Cameron's deadly brand. 

" Land of proud hearts and mountains gray I 
Where Fingal fought and Ossian sung ! 

Mourn dark Culloden's fateful day, 
That from thy chiefs the laurel wrung. 


Where once they ruled and roam'd at will, 
Free as their own dark mountain game ; 

Their sons are slaves, yet keenly feel 
A longing for their father's fame. 

" Shades of the mighty and the brave, 

Who, faithful to your Stuart, fell ; 
No trophies mark your common grave, 

Nor dirges to your mem'ry swell ! 
But generous hearts will weep your fate, 

When far has roll'd the tide of time ; 
And bards unborn shall renovate 

Your fading fame in loftiest rhyme !"* 


Lochiel, Lochiel, my brave Lochiel, 
Beware o' Cumberland, my dearie ! 

Culloden field this day will seal 

The fate o' Scotland's ain Prince Charlie. 

* Lochiel had the luck to get safe to France with the Prince, and 
was there made Colonel of 1000 men, a commission which he enjoyed 
till his death in 1748. His brother, Dr Cameron, who fought also at 
Culloden, and was wounded severely in the arm, had afterwards a very 
different fate. The late Dr Spence, whose memory carried him as far 
back as the Forty-five, used to relate the following anecdote of him. 
" When a boy at Linlithgow, some years after the rebellion, I remem- 
ber Dr Cameron, brother to the celebrated Lochiel, being brought into 
the town under an escort of dragoons. He wore a French light-colour. 
ed great-coat, and rode a grey pony, with his feet lashed to its sides ; 
but, considering his situation and prospects, looked remarkably 
cheerful. As the party were to rest for the night, the prisoner was 
placed for security in the common jail ; and well do I remember, as 
I remained with the crowd at the prison-door, overhearing the Doc- 
toy within, singing to himself his native song of ' Farewell to Locha- 

' We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.' 
Knowing he had just been apprehended in the Highlands, whither 
he had returned from France, in the vain hope that his defection 
might be pardoned or forgotten, and that, when I saw him, he was 


The Highland clans nae mair are seen, 
To fight for him wha ne'er was eerie. 

They fallen are on yon red field, 

An' trampled down for liking Charlie. 

He was our Prince — nane dare say no, 
The truth o' this we a' ken fairly ; 

Then wha woidd no joined hand in hand, 
To've kept frae skaith our ain Prince Charlie ? 

Glenullen's bride stood at the yett, 
Her lover's steed arrived right early ; 

His rider's gane, his bridle's wet, 

Wi' blude o' him wha fell for Charlie ! 

O weep, fair maids o' Scotia's isle, 
Weep loud, fair lady o' sweet Airlie ; 

Culloden reeks wi' purple gore, 

O' those wha bled for Scotia's Charlie. 

Repent, repent, black Murray's race, 
Ye were the cause o' this foul ferlie, 

And shaw to George wha fills his shoon, 
That ye'U no sell him like puir Charlie. * 

on his way to London, where he suffered upon Tower-hill,— the 
remembrance has made a strong impression on my mind, and I have 
never since heard the air of ' Lochaber,' without recalling the tone 
of voice, with all the circumstances of the then unhappy situation , 
and subsequent fate of Dr Cameron." 

•This Song, by the redoubtable Willison Glass, breathes the spirit 
of poetry, and is not unworthy of the subject. In the last stanza he 
adopts the notion which was for some time prevalent among the 
Highlanders, after their defeat at Culloden, that Lord George Murray 
had betrayed their cause in that battle, and, consequently, ruined the 
Prince's affairs. A party among the clans, no doubt, had violent 
suspicions of that Nobleman's political integrity, and even published 
articles of impeachment against him ; but these were most satisfac- 
torily answered in a counter publication, published in Lord George's 
vindication. There is but one opinion at the present day on the sub- 
set, which is, that Lord George was altogether blameless. The 



My name is Bauldy Fraser, man ; 
I'm puir, an' auld, an' pale, an' wan, 
I brak my shin, an' tint a han', 

Upon Culloden lee, man : 
Our Highlan' clans were pauld an' stout, 
An' thought to gie te loons a clout, 
An' laith were they to turn about, 

An' owre the hills to flee, man. 

But sic a hurly-burly raise, 
Te fery lift was in a plaze, 
As a' te teils had won ter ways, 

On Highlandmen to flee, man : 
Te cannon an' te pluff tragoon, 
Sae proke our ranks, an' pore us town, 
Her nainsell ne'er cot sic a stoun, 

Sin' she was porn to tee, man. 

Pig Satan sent te plan frae hell, 
Or pat our chiefs peside hersel', 
To plant her in te open fell, 
In pase artillery's ee, man : 

obloquy which he incurred, may be laid to the account of his arbitrary 
manner, which the Highland officers could ill brook in a commander ; 
and not a little, perhaps, was owing to the high offence which he 
gave to the pride of the Macdonalds at Culloden, by changing their 
position from the right to the left of the line. This insult was never 
forgotten by that clan, and it is still urged by the race as an apology 
for their besotted conduct, in refusing to advance with the brave 
Keppoch their chief, and seeing him sacrificed before their eyes, 
without drawing a sword in his defence. 

* This is one of the Ettrick Shepherd's compositions, and quite 
characteristic of his genius. The two last stanzas are worthy alike 
of the kind heart, and the shrewd judgment of the author. 


For had she met te tirty duke, 
At ford of Spey or Prae- Culrook, 
Te plood of every foreign pouk 

Had dyed the Cherman sea, man. 

We fought for a' we loved an' had, 
An' for te right, put Heaven forpade ; 
An' monie a ponnie Highlan' lad 

Lay pleeding on te prae, man. 
Fat could she to, fat could she say, 
Te praif M'Donnell was away : 
An' her ain chief tat luckless day 

Was far ayont Drumboy, man. 

Macpherson and Macgregor poth, 
Te men of Muideart an' Glenquoich, 
An' coot Mackenzies of te Doich, 

All absent frae te field, man : 
Te sword was sharp, te arm was true, 
Pe honour still her nainsel's due ; 
Impossibles she could not do, 

Though laithe she pe to yield, man. 

When Charlie wi' te foremost met ; 
Praif lad, he thought her pack to get ; 
" Return, my friends, an' face tem yet, 

We'll conquer or we'll die, man : " 
Put Tonald shumpit o'er te purn, 
An' swore, pe Cot, she wadna turn, 
For ter was nought put shoot an' purn, 

An' hangin' on te tree, man. 

O had you seen tat hunt of teath, 
She ran until she tint her praith, 
Aye looking pack on Scotland's skaithe, 
Wi' hopeless, shining ee, man-. 


Put Pritain ever may teplore, 
Tat tay upon Culloden more, 
Her praifest sons laid in ter gore, 
Or huntit cruellye, man. 

O Cumberland what meant you ten, 

To ravage ilka Highland glen ? 

Her crime was truth an' love to ane — 

She had nae spite at thee, man : 
An' you an' yours may yet pe glad, 
To trust te honest Highland lad : 
Te ponnet plue, an' pelted plaid, 

Will stand te last o' three, man. 


A wee bird came to our ha' door, 

He warbled sweet and clearly, 
And aye the o'ercome o' his sang 

Was " Wae's me for Prince Charlie !" 
Oh ! when I heard the bonnie bonnie bird, 

The tears came drapping rarely, 
I took my bannet aff my head, 

For weel I lo'ed Prince Charlie. 

* Hogg ascribes this song to Mr. William Glen, of Glasgow, and it 
bears internal evidence of the accuracy of his opinion. The sentiments 
are characteristic of the poet, and, besides, are completely borne out by 
the truth of history. After the battle of Culloden Prince Charles 
became, literally, a fugitive and an outcast, and the personal risques 
which he ran, with the sufferings he endured, rendered bim truly an 
object of commiseration to all but his relentless and vindictive mili- 
tary pursuers. For more than five months he was surrounded by 
armed troops, that chased him from hill to dale, from rock to cavern, 
and from shore to shore. Sometimes he lurked in caves and cot- 
tages, without attendants, and without any other support but that 
which the poorest peasant could supply. Sometimes he was rowed 
in fishing-boats from isle to isle, among the Hebrides, and often in 
sight of his pursuers ; and, though he was aware that L, 30,000 was 


Quo' I, " My bird, my bonnie bonnie bird, 

Is that a tale ye borrow? 
Or is't some words ye've learnt by rote, 

Or a lilt o' dool and sorrow ?" 
" Oh ! no, no, no !" the wee bird sang, 

" I've flown sin' morning early ; 
But sic a day o' wind and rain ! — 

Oh ! wae's me for Prince Charlie ! 

" On hills that are by right his ain, 

He roams a lonely stranger ; 
On ilka hand he's press'd by want, 

On ilka side by danger. 
Yestreen I met him in a glen, 

My heart near bursted fairly, 
For sadly chang'd indeed was he. — 

Oh ! wae's me for Prince Charlie ! 

" Dark night came on, the tempest howl'd 
Out-owre the hills and valleys ; 

And whare was't that your prince lay down, 
Whase hame should been a palace ? 

set upon his head, he was obliged to trust to the fidelity of above fifty 
individuals, many of whom were in the lowest ranks of life. For some 
days he appeared in woman's attire, and even passed through the 
midst of his enemies unknown ; but, understanding that this disguise 
would be easily detected, he was forced to assume the habit of a travel- 
ling mountaineer, and then wandered about among the woods and 
heaths, with a matted beard, and squalid locks, exposed to hunger, 
thirst, and weariness, and in continual dread of being discovered. At 
length when the opportunity arrived, which enabled him to escape to 
France, and when he went on board the privateer which had been 
hired by the young Sheridan, and some other Irish adherents at St. 
Malo, and brought to Lochnannach, Lochiel, and the few exiles who 
accompanied him in his escape, could not help remarking the change 
which care, hardship, and fatigue had produced on his person. His 
eye was hollow, his visage wan, his body thin, and his whole consti- 
tution considerably impaired. It obviously required nothing more 
than a recollection of the Prince's dejected and pitiable state at this 
period, to prompt the sympathetic burthen of this song, " Oh ! wae's 
me for Prince Charlie." 


He row'd him in a Highland plaid, 
Which cover'd him hut sparely, 

And slept beneath a bush o' broom — 
Oh ! wae's me for Prince Charlie !" 

But now the bird saw some redcoats, 

And he shook his wings wi' anger : 
" O this is no a land for me, 

I'll tarry here nae langer." 
A while he hover'd on the wing, 

Ere he departed fairly : 
But weel I mind the fareweel strain ; 

'Twas " Wae's me for Prince Charlie !" 


Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn 
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn ! 
Thy sons, for valour long renown'd, 
Lie slaughter'd on their native ground. 
Thy hospitable roofs no more 
Invite the stranger to the door ; 
In smoky ruins sunk they lie, 
The monuments of cruelty. 

* This beautiful lyric, by Dr. Smollett, is alike worthy of the genius 
and the patriotism of its author. When reproached by persons in 
authority with having given vent to what were then called feelings of 
disaffection to the existing government, the indignant poet only re- 
plied by writing the last stanza. Indeed, in this poem Smollett only 
spoke the sentiments of nine-tenths of his countrymen at the time ; 
for, whatever might be the differences that reigned among political 
parties, there was but one opinion as to the cruel and vindictive cha- 
racter of the measures by which the victory at Culloden was followed 
up. Immediately after the action, the royal forces took possession 
of Inverness, when six-and-thirty persons, accused of being deserters, 
were seized and executed. Parties were then dispatched on all sides, 
to ravage the country. One of these apprehended the Lady M'Intosh, 
after having driven off her cattle, and brought her in a prisoner, 


The wretched owner sees afar 
His all become the prey of war, 
Bethinks him of his babes and wife, 
Then smites his breast, and curses life. 
Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks, 
Where once they fed their wanton flocks ; 
Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain ; 
Thy infants perish on the plain. 

What boots it then, in every clime, 
Through the wide-spreading waste of time, 
Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, 
Still shone with undiminish'd blaze ? 
Thy towering spirit now is broke, 
Thy neck is bended to the yoke : 
What foreign arms could never quell, 
By civil rage and rancour fell. 

though her husband was actually in the service of Government. The 
castle of Lord Lovat was destroyed. The Lords Kilmarnock, Bal- 
merino, and Cromarty, and the son of the latter, Lord Macleod, were 
conveyed by sea to London ; while those of an inferior rank were con- 
fined in different prisons. The Earl of Traquair was committed to 
the Tower on suspicion; and the eldest son of Lord Lovat, having 
surrendered himself, was confined in Edinburgh Castle. The Mar- 
quis of Tullibardine, and a brother of the Earl of Dunmore, were also 
seized and imprisoned. Likewise the Prince's secretary, Murray of 
Broughton, who was apprehended after a persevering and diligent 
pursuit. In a word, all the gaols of Great Britain, from the capital 
northwards, were filled with these unfortunate captives ; and great 
numbers of them were crowded together in the holds of ships, where 
they perished in the most deplorable manner, for want of air, exer- 
cise, and even the commonest necessaries of life. But it was the 
needless vengeance exercised by the Duke of Cumberland, that excited 
the greatest astonishment, and, doubtless, it was that which wakened 
the sympathy, and roused the indignation of Smollett. After his 
victory, the Duke advanced with the army into the Highlands, as far 
as Fort Augustus, where he encamped. He then sent off detach- 
ments on all hands to hunt down the fugitives, and lay waste the 
country with fire and sword. The castles of Glengary and Lochiel 
were plundered and burned ; every house, hut, or habitation met 
with the same fate, without distinction ; all the cattle and provisions 
were carried off; the men were either shot upon the mountains, 
like wild beasts, or put to death in cold blood, without form of trial. 


The rural pipe and merry lay 
No more shall cheer the happy day ; 
No social scenes of gay delight 
Beguile the dreary winter night : 
No strains, but those of sorrow, flow, 
And nought is heard but sounds of wo, 
While the pale phantoms of the slain 
Glide nightly o'er the silent plain. 

Oh, baneful cause ! oh, fatal morn, 
Accurs'd to ages yet unborn ! 
The sons against their fathers stood, 
The parent shed his children's blood : 
Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd, 
The victor's soul was not appeas'd ; 
The naked and forlorn must feel 
Devouring flames and murdering steel. 

The pious mother, doom'd to death, 
Forsaken, wanders o'er the heath ; 
The bleak wind whistles round her head, 
Her helpless orphans cry for bread. 
Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, 
She views the shades of night descend, 
And, stretch'd beneath th' inclement skies, 
Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies. 

Whilst the warm blood bedews my veins, 
And unimpair'd remembrance reigns, 

The women, after having seen their husbands and fathers murdered, 
were subjected to brutal violation, and then turned out naked, with 
their children, so starve on the barren heaths. One whole family was 
enclosed in a barn, and consumed to ashes. In short, the Duke's 
ministers of vengeance were so alert in the execution of their office, 
that in a few days there was neither house, cottage, man, nor beast 
to be seen, in the compass of fifty miles ; all was ruin and desolation, 
silence, solitude, and death. 


Resentment of my country's fate 
Within my filial breast shall beat ; 
And, spite of her insulting foe, 
My sympathizing verse shall flow. 
Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn 
Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn ! 


You're welcome, Charlie Stuart, 
You're welcome, Charlie Stuart, 
You're welcome, Charlie Stuart, 
There's none so right as thou art. 

Had I the power to my will, 

Thy foes to scatter, take, and kill, 

I'd make thee famous by my quill, 
From Billingsgate to Duart. 

Thy sympathizing complaisance 
Made thee believe intriguing France ; 
But wo is me for thy mischance, 
That saddens every true heart ! 
You're welcome, &c. 

Had'st thou Culloden's battle won, 
Poor Scotland had not been undone, 
Nor butcher'd been with sword and gun, 
By Lockhart and such cowards. 
You're welcome, &c. 

* The author of this production is unknown ; but the leading to- 
pics introduced, are such as were of the greatest popular interest 
after the rebellion in 1745, and prove him to have been an adept in 
song writing. The air to which it is sung bears the same name, and 
is to be found in almost every collection of Scottish tunes. 


Kind Providence to thee a friend, 

A lovely maid,* did timely send, 

To save thee from a fearful end, 

Thou royal Charlie Stuart. 

You're welcome, &c. 

* This verse alludes to the share which the celebrated Miss Flora 
Macdonald had, in enabling Prince Charles to elude the pursuit of 
his enemies, and finally to effect his escape to France. Miss Flora 
was the sister of Macdonald of Milton, in South Uist, and happening 
to be on a visit there from Skye, at the very moment when the Prince 
was so closely beset by his pursuers, that escape seemed next to im- 
practicable, she was applied to accidentally, by his only remaining 
attendant O'Neil, to assist them in so trying an emergency. Innu- 
merable difficHlties stood in the way of her interference at first ; but 
female contrivance is seldom at a loss, and Miss Flora, with the 
assistance of Lady Clanronald, ultimately managed to get over them 
all. The adventures of her and her faithful servant, Neil M'Echan, 
from their leaving Milton, to go to Clanronald's house to prepare a 
disguise for the Prince, and other necessaries for their journey, till 
she at last saw him fairly beyond pursuit, and took leave of him at Port 
Rei, would nearly fill a volume. The hair-breadth escapes which the 
Prince made in their company, equipped all the while in female ha- 
bilaments, were equally romantic and ludicrous ; and, notwithstand- 
ing the real danger which surrounded all the parties, these mishaps 
were frequently the subject of jest to themselves. In wading the 
rivulets on their route, for instance, when in company with strangers, 
the Prince would often lift his petticoats so high as to alarm the fears 
of Neil M'Echan beyond all measure. Neil would then beg and be- 
seech his Royal Highness to be more circumspect, and, if possible, to 
" keep town te petticoats, or tay would all pe ruined." The Prince, 
though sensible of the justice of Neil's complaints, used to laugh 
heartily on such occasions, and would then tell him jokingly, that 
«' it was surely not the first time he had been brought into jeopardy 
by a petticoat." This masquerade dress of the Prince does not appea^ 
from all accounts, to have sat well upon him, for when the party 
came to the house of Macdonald of Kingsborough, who was let into the 
secret, and afterwards aided him in making his escape, that gentle- 
man's little daughter and Mrs M'Donald's maid were quite alarmed at 
the ungainly figure and huge strides of the " muckle woman," as they 
called the Prince. Though it is likely that the disguise would not have 
passed without detection anywhere but in the Highlands ; yet it cer- 
tainly proved an effectual safeguard during the short time it was used. 
After parting with the Prince at Port Rei, Miss Macdonald went to 
her mother's in Armadale ; but the part which she had played in the 
political drama of the day could not be long concealed, and she was 
almost immediately taken into custody. The result, however, was 
only a voyage to London, and a short detention there, in the custody 
of the Government officers. The ship on board which she was con- 


Illustrious Prince, we firmly pray, 
That she and we may see the day, 
When Britons with one voice shall say, 
" You're welcome, Charlie Stuart." 
You're welcome, &c. 

Whene'er I take a glass of wine, 
I drink confusion to the swine, 
But health to him that will combine 
To fight for Charlie Stuart. 
You're welcome, &c. 

Though Cumberland, the tyrant proud, 
Doth thirst and hunger for thy blood,* 
Just Heaven will preserve the good, 
The gallant Charlie Stuart. 
You're welcome, &c. 

veyed after her apprehension, lay for some time in Leith roads ; and 
after being taken from place to place, during a period of five months, 
she was at last put on board the Royal Sovereign at the Nore. 
Every attention and respect was paid to her by the commander and 
officers, while she remained their prisoner, — and even after she was 
in the custody of the King's messengers in London, she found no rea- 
son to complain of any thing but her detention. It is probable the 
Government, vindictive and cruel as it was in Scotland, dreaded the 
effect of English sympathy, if they should take any harsh measures 
against such an adventurous heroine as Miss Flora in London. They 
carried their resentment no further, therefore, than keeping her for a 
short time thus under restraint. In the messengers' custody she re- 
mained till July, 1147, when she was finally discharged, and returned 
to Edinburgh without being asked a question. 

* That the sentiment in this verse is literally true, the following 
melancholy incident in Prince Charles's Highland adventures, after the 
affair at Culloden, sufficiently demonstrates. " After the contest had 
ceased on the field," says Johnstone in his Memoirs, " and the follow- 
ers of Charles were completely dispersed, he himself was, for several 
months hotly pursued by detachments of English troops ; and so very 
near were they frequently to him, that he had scarcely quitted a place 
before they arrived at it. Sometimes he was wholly surrounded by 
them. The Duke of Cumberland never failed to say to the camman- 
ders of these detachments, at the moment of their departure, " Make 
no prisoners ; you know what I mean." They had particular instruc- 
tions to stab the Prince, if he fell into their hands ; but Divine Wis- 


The ministry may Scotland maul, 
But our brave hearts they'll ne'er enthrall ; 
We'll fight like Britons, one and all, . 
For liberty and Stuart. 
You're welcome, &c. 

dom frustrated the atrocious and barbarous design and pursuit of 
the sanguinary Duke, whose officers and their detachments, his exe- 
cutioners, inflicted more cruelties on the brave but unfortunate 
Highlanders than would have been committed by the most ferocious 
savages. The generous and heroic action of a Mr Roderick Mackenzie 
signally preserved the Prince on one occasion, from those blood-thirsty 
assassins. This gentleman, who was of a good family in Scotland, 
had served during the whole expedition, in Charles's life-guards. He 
was of the Prince's size, and to those who were not accustomed to see 
them together, might seem to resemble him a little. Mackenzie 
happened to be in a cabin with the Prince and two or three other 
persons, when, all of a sudden, they received information that they 
were surrounded by detachments of English troops, advancing from 
every point, as if they had got positive information that the Prince 
was in this cabin. Charles was asleep at the moment, and was awaked 
for the purpose of being informed of the melancholy fact, that it 
would be utterly impossible to save him. His answer was, " Then, 
we must die like brave men, with swords in our hands ."» " No, my 
Prince," replied Mackenzie ; " resources still remain ; I will take 
your name, and face one of these detachments. I know what my 
fate will be ; but whilst I keep the enemy employed, your Royal 
Highness will have time to escape." Mackenzie then darted forward 
with fury, sword in hand, against a detachment of fifty men, and on 
falling, covered with wounds, he exclaimed aloud, " You know not 
what you have done ! — I am your Prince whom you have killed !" After 
which he instantly expired. They cut off his head, and carried it, 
without delay, to the Duke of Cumberland, nobody doubting that it 
was the head of Prince Charles. And the barbarous Duke, having 
now, as he thought, obtained the great object of his wishes, set off 
next day for London, with the head packed up in his post-chaise." 
Fatal as this incident was to poor Mackenzie, it proved not only ef- 
fectual for the safety of Charles, but was productive of considerable 
relief to the Highlanders generally. The depositions of several per- 
sons in London, who affirmed that this was the head of the Prince, 
had the effect to render the English troops less vigilant, and less active 
in their pursuit of him, as well as less anxious in their search for 
suspected persons. Before that event, they had formed a chain of 
posts from Inverary to Inverness, and the Prince had frequently 
escaped with great risque, having been obliged to cross this chain be- 
tween their detachments. Individuals too were previously subject to 
every sort of vexatious interruption, by military parties entering their 
houses or stopping them on the highway. But after the taking of 
Mr Mackenzie's head, these annoyances almost wholly ceased. 


Then haste, ye Britons, to set on 

Your lawful king upon his throne, 

And to Hanover drive each one 

Who will not fight for Stuart. 

You're welcome, &c. 


When Sol in shades of night was lost, 

And all was fast asleep, 
In glided murder'd Townly's ghost, 

And stood at William's feet. 

"Awake, infernal wretch!" he cried, 
"And view this mangled shade, 

That in thy perjur'd faith relied, 
And basely was betray'd. 

" Imbrued in bliss, imbath'd in ease, 
Though now thou seem'st to lie, 

My injur'd form shall gall thy peace, 
And make thee wish to die. 

" Fancy no more in pleasant dreams 

Shall frisk before thy sight, 
But horrid thoughts and dismal screams 

Attend thee all the night. 

e Colonel Francis Townly led the two hundred Jacobites who joined 
Prince Charles at Manchester, while on his march to the South. The 
Colonel and his troop afterwards formed part of the unfortunate 
garrison that was left to defend Carlisle, when the Highland army 
returned to Scotland. He was taken prisoner in that town, and 
executed with the rest. From the general strain of this Song, and 
the words of the second stanza in particular, it would appear that 
the terms of the capitulation had not been honourably observed by the 
victorious party. Smollett says that there was a sort of a capitulation 
entered into for the surrender of Carlisle. Of course we may con- 


« Think on the hellish acts thou'st done, 
The thousands thou'st betray'd : 

Nero himself would blush to own 
The slaughter thou hast made. 

" Nor infants' cries nor parents' tears, 

Could stay thy bloody hand, 
Nor could the ravish'd virgin's fears 

Appease thy dire command. 

" But, ah ! what pangs are set apart 

In hell, thou'lt quickly see ; 
For ev'n the damn'd themselves shall start 

To view a fiend like thee." 

In heart affrighted, Willie rose, 
And trembling stood, and pale ; 

Then to his cruel sire he goes, 
And tells the dreadfid tale. 

" Cheer up, my dear, my darling son," 

The bold usurper said, 
" And ne'er repent of what thou'st done, 

Nor be at all afraid. 

" If we on Scotland's throne can dwell, 

And reign securely here, 
Your uncle Satan's king in hell, 

And he'll secure us there." 

elude, that the Duke of Cumberland, as Commander-in-Chief, would 
not be very scrupulous in breaking the conditions of it. A sort of a 
capitulation was not likely to bind one who never kept faith with the 
followers of the Prince. Townly, like hundreds of other brave and 
honourable men, was doubtless put to death in utter disregard of the 
conditions of his surrender. The blood-thirsty Duke was above de- 
cency in such matters. Hence the innumerable stains on his own 
memory, and the everlasting discredit sustained by the ministry of 
that period. 



Awake, ye gay landscapes; ye gardens of roses! 

In you' let the minions of luxury rove ; 
Restore me the rocks where the snow flake re- 

For still they are sacred to freedom and love. 
Yet, Caledonia ! belov'd are thy mountains, 

Round their white summits, though elements 

war, [fountains, 

Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth flowing 

I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. 

Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wan- 
der'd, [plaid. 

My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the 

On chieftains long perish'd my memory pon- 

der'd, [glade. 

As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd 
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory 

Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star; 
For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story, 

Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. 

" Shades of the dead ! have I not heard your 
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale; 

* This beautiful lyric, inserted here in consequence of its allusion 
to the misfortunes of the Jacobites of 1745, is from the pen of Lord 
Byron. Lachin y Gab; or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loch na 
Garr, towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern Highlands, near 
Invercauld. One of our modern Tourists mentions it as the highest 
mountain perhaps in Great Britain. Be this as it may, it is certainly 
one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our Caledonian 
Alps. Its appearance is of a dark hue , but the summit is the seat 
of eternal snow. « Near Lachin y Gair,» says his Lordship, " I spent 
some of the early part of my life ; the recollection has given birth to 
the following stanzas." 


Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, 
And rides on the wind, o'er his own High 
land vale. [gathers, 

Round Loch na Garr while the stormy mist 

Winter presides in his cold icy car ; 
Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers : 
They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na 

" El-star'd, though brave, did no vision fore- 
boding, f 
Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause ; 
Ah ! were you destin'd to die at Culloden ? 

Victory crown'd not your fall with applause. 
Still were you happy in death's early slumber, 
You rest with your clan in the caves of Brae- 
mar, [ber, 
The pibroch resounds to the piper's bold num- 
Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch n 

Years have roll'd on, Loch na Garr, since I lefi 

Years must elapse e'er I tread you again ; 
Nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you ; 

Yet still you are dearer than Albion's plain. 
England ! thy beauties are tame and domestic 

To one who has roam'd on the mountains afar; 
Oh, for the crags that are wild and majestic, 

The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na 

f Lord Byron alludes here to his maternal ancestors, the " Gor- 
dons," many of whom fought for Prince Charles. This branch was 
nearly allied by blood.'as well as attachment, to the Stewarts. George, 
second Earl of Huntly, married the Princess Annabella Stewart, 
daughter of James I. of Scotland. By her he left four sons ; the third, 
Sir William Gordon, Lord Byron said, was one of his progenitors. 



My Harry was a gallant gay, 

Fu' stately strade he o'er the plain , 

But now he's banish'd far away, 
I'll never see him back again. 
O for him back again ! 

for him back again ! 

1 wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land 
For Highland Harry back again. 

When a' the lave gang to their bed, 

I wander dowie up the glen, 
And sit me down and greet my fill 

For Highland Harry back again. 
O for him back again, &c. 

O were some villains hangit high, 

And ilka body had their ain, 
Then I wad see the joyfu' sight 

Of Highland Harry back again. 
O for him back again, &c. 

Sad was the day, and sad the hour, 
He left me in his native plain, 

And rtish'd his injur'd prince to join ; 
But, oh ! he ne'er came back again ! 
O for him back again, &c. 

Strong was my Harry's arm in fight, 
Unmatch'd on a' Culloden plain ; 

But vengeance has put down the right, — 
And, oh ! he'll ne'er come back again ! 
O for him back again, &c. 

* The popularity of this Song and its tune, recommended it to 
Burns, who altered and amended the words as they now appear in 



Let mournful Britons now deplore 

The horrors of Drummossie's day ; 
Our hopes of freedom all are o'er, 

The clans are all away, away. 
The clemency of late enjoy'd 

Is changed to tyrannic sway ; 
Our laws and friends at once destroy'd ; 

The clans are all away, away. 

the first three verses. The other two have since been added by 

* Among the Scots the engagement at Culloden was originally 
called the Battle of Drummossie Muir, from the name of the ground 
on which it was fought. The English, with better taste, always 
called it the Battle of Culloden, from its vicinity to the seat of Lord 
President Forbes. This Song, which is obviously a parody on " The 
Campbells are coming," must have been written just after the battle 
was fought ; but the writer does not appear to have known that the 
final dispersion of the clans was all owing to Prince Charles himself. 
The Highland army, though defeated at Culloden, was not destroyed ; 
and it is well ascertained, that if the Prince had possessed sufficient 
fortitude and perseverance, he might have renewed the contest with 
many chances of success. This has been often asserted by different 
writers ; but the Chevalier Johnstone, who was an eye-witness of 
what occurred at the time, demonstrates its truth in the most dis- 
tinct and graphic terms.— "I arrived," says he, "on the 18th at 
Ruthven, which happened by chance, to become the rallying point of 
our army, without having been previously fixed on. There I found 
the Duke of Athol, Lord George Murray, the Duke of Perth, Lord 
John Drummond, Lord Ogilvie, and many other Chiefs of Clans, with 
about four or five thousand Highlanders, all in the best possible dis- 
position for renewing hostilities, and for taking their revenge. The 
little town of Ruthven is about eight leagues from Inverness, by a 
road through the mountains, very narrow, full of tremendously high 
precipices, where there are several passes which a hundred men could 
defend against ten thousand, by merely rolling down rocks from the 
summit of the mountains. Lord George Murray immediately dis- 
patched people to guard the passes, and at the same time sent off an 
aid-de-camp to inform the Prince that a great part of his army was 
assembled at Ruthven ; that the Highlanders were full of animation 
and ardour, and eager to be led against the enemy ; that the Grants 
and other Highland clans, who had till then remained neuter, were 
disposed to declare themselves in his favour, seeing the inevitable de- 
struction of their country from the proximity of the victorious army 
of the Duke of Cumberland; that all the clans who had received 


Has fate thus doom'd the Scottish, race 

To tyrants' lasting power a prey ? 
Shall all those troubles never cease ? 

Why went the clans away, away ? 
Brave sons of Mars, no longer mourn ; 

Your prince abroad will make no stay : 
You'll bless the hour of his return, 

And soon revenge Drummossie's day. 

leave of absence, would assemble there in the course of a few days ; 
and that instead of five or six thousand men, the whole of the num- 
ber present at the battle of Culloden, from the .absence of those 
who had returned to their homes, and of those who had left the ar-, 
my, on reaching Culloden on the morning of the 16th, to go to sleep, 
he might now count upon eight or nine thousand men at least, a 
greater number than he had at any time in his army. Every body 
earnestly intreated the Prince to come immediately, and put himself 
at the head of this force. We passed the 10th at Ruthven without 
any answer to our message, and in the interim all the Highlanders 
were cheerful and full of spirits, to a degree perhaps never before 
witnessed in an army so recently beaten, expecting, with impatience, 
every moment the arrival of the Prince ; but on the 20th , Mr M'Leod, 
Lord George's aid-de-camp, who had been sent to him, returned with 
the laconic message, " Let every man seek his own safety in the best may 
he can." This answer, under existing circumstances, was as incon- 
siderate in Charles, as it was heart-breaking to the brave men who 
had sacrificed themselves in his cause. However critical our situa- 
tion, the Prince ought not to have dispaired. On occasions when 
every thing is to be feared, we ought to lay aside fear ; when we are 
surrounded with dangers, no danger ought to alarm us. With the 
best plans we may fail in our enterprises; but the firmness we display 
in misfortune is the noblest ornament of virtue. This is the manner 
in which a prince ought to have conducted himself, who with a rash- 
ness unexampled, had landed in Scotland with only seven men." 
The account thus given of Charles's desertion of his own cause, corre- 
sponds with other statements published both by friends and foes. 
When we look, therefore, to the courage with which that cause 
was originally entered upon, and the gallantry displayed for a 
while in carrying it on, it is difficult to account for a final 
resolution so little corresponding with the preconceived notions 
of his character, and so little calculated to beget the respect either 
of his followers or of the world. Some have ascribed his conduct 
to imbecillity of character, while others, with more charity, have laid 
it to the account of evil advice. Among the latter number is the 
Chevalier already quoted. In stating his reasons for prolonging the 
contest, he says, " We were masters of the passes between Ruthven 
and Inverness, which gave us sufficient time to assemble our adhe- 
rents. The Clan of M'Pherson of Clunie, consisting of five hundred 



My love's a bonnie laddie, an yore be he, 
My love's a bonnie laddie, an yon be he ; 
A feather in his bonnet, a ribbon at his knee : 
He's a bonnie bonnie laddie, an yon be he. 

There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail- 
yard, [yard, 

There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail- 

And on that bonnie brier bush there's twa roses 
I lo'e dear, [yard. 

And they're busy busy courting in our kail- 

They shall hing nae mair upon the bush in our 
kail-yard, [kail-yard ! 

They shall hing nae mair upon the bush in our 
They shall bob on Athol green, and there they 
will be seen, [guard. 

And the rocks and the trees shall be their safe- 
very brave men, besides many other Highlanders who had not been 
able to reach Inverness before the battle, joined us at Ruthven ; so 
that our numbers increased every moment, and I am thoroughly 
convinced that in the course of eight days we should have had a more 
powerful army than ever, capable of re-establishing, without delay, 
the state of our affairs, and of avenging the barbarous cruelties of the 
Duke of Cumberland. But the Prince was inexorable, and immoveable 
in his resolution of abandoning his enterprise ; thus terminating in 
an inglorious manner an expedition, the rapid progress of which had 
fixed, the attention of all Europe. Unfortunately he had nobody to 
advise with but Sir Thomas Sheridan and other Irishmen, who were 
altogether ignorant of the nature and resources of the country, and 
the character of the Highlanders ; and who had nothing to lose, but, 
on the contrary, a great deal to gain, on arriving in France, where 
several of them afterwards laid the foundation of their fortunes." 

* According to the opinion of the Ettrick Shepherd, this is one of 
the songs which the strictness of the times compelled the original 
publishers to alter. It has still a Jacobite turn, however, and is in- 
serted here to contrast with the ballad fragment which immediately 
follows it, entitled Carlisle Yetts. The latter is modern, and, we be- 
lieve, made its first appearance in Cromek's Remains. Hogg ascribes 
it, from internal evidence, to be the composition of Allan Cunning. 


O my bonnie bonnie flowers they shall blooi 

o'er them a', 
When they gang to the dancing in Carlisle ha 
Where Donald and Sandy, I'm sure, will dint 

them a', 
When they gang to the dancing in Carlisle ha'. 

O what will I do for a lad when Sandy gangs 

what will I do for a lad when Sandy gangs 


1 will awa to Edinbrough, and win a penny fee, 
And see gin ony bonnie laddie will fancy me. 

He's coming frae the north that's to marry me, 
He's coming frae the north that's to carry me ; 
A feather in his bonnet, a rose aboon his bree : 
He's a bonnie bonnie laddie, an yon be he. 


White was the rose in his gay bonnet, 

As he faulded me in his broached plaidie ; 
His hand, whilk clasped the truth o' luve, 

O it was aye in battle ready ', 
His lang lang hair, in yellow hanks, 

Waved o'er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddy ; 
But now they wave o'er Carlisle yetts 

In dripping ringlets clotting bloodie. 

My father's blood's in that flower-tap, 
My brother's in that hare-bell's blossom, 

hame, and it is obvious he is correct. It has all the Doric simplicity 
and touching effect which characterise Cunninghame's productions 
in that line. 


This white rose was steeped in my luve's blood, 
And I'll aye ^vear it in my bosom. 

When I came first by merrie Carlisle, 

Was ne'er a town sae sweetly seeming ; 
The white rose flaunted owre the wall, 

The thristled banners far were streaming ! 
When I came next by merry Carlisle, 

O sad sad seem'd the town, and eerie ! 
The auld auld men came out and wept, 

" O maiden, come ye to seek your dearie ?' 

There's ae drap o' blude atween my breasts, 

And twa in my links o' hair sae yellow ; 
The tane I'll ne'er wash, and the tither ne'er 

But I'll sit and pray aneath the willow. 
vVae, wae upon that cruel heart, 

Wae, wae upon that hand sae bloodie, 
Which feasts on our richest Scottish blude, 

An' makes sae monie a dolefu' widow. 


Was ever old warrior of suff 'ring so weary ? 

Was ever the wild beast so bay'd in his den ? 

The Southron blood-hounds lie in kennel so 

near me, [Glen. 

That death would be freedom to Callum-a- 

* The Jacobite cause was, in every stage of its progress, the fruitful 
source of misfortunes to individuals, of a character equally lamentable 
to those bewailed in the pathetic ditty of Callum-a-Glen. Both the 
S ong and the Air are from the Gaelic. The latter is to be found in 
Captain Frazer's collection. This version of the words is from the pen 


My sons are all slain, and my daughters have 
left me ; [were ten : 

No child to protect me, where once there 
My chief they have slain, and of stay have be- 
reft me, 
And wo to the gray hairs of Callum-a- Glen ! 

The homes of my kinsmen are blazing to heaven; 

The bright sun of morning has blush'd at the 
The moon has stood still on the verge of the 
even, [dew : 

To wipe from her pale cheek the tint of the 
For the dew it lies red on the vales of Lochaber, 

It sprinkles the cot, and it flows in the pen. 
The pride of my country is fallen for ever ! [ Glen? 

Death, hast thou no shaft for old Callum-a- 

The sun in his glory has look'd on our sorrow ; 

The stars have wept blood over hamlet and 

lea : [row 

O, is there no spring-day for Scotland ? no mor- 

Of bright renovation for souls of the free ? 
Yes : one above all has beheld our devotion, 

Our valour and faith are not hid from his ken. 
The day is abiding, of stern retribution, 

On all the proud foes of old Callum-a- Glen. 


Star of the twilight grey, 
Where wast thou blinking ? 

of the Ettrick Shepherd, who asserts that the original Gaelic is so 
beautiful, that he might venture to stake it against any piece ofmo- 
dern poetry. 


When in the olden day, 

Eve dim was sinking? 

" O'er knight and baron's hall, 

Turret, and tower, 

O'er fell and forest tall, 

Green brake and bower." 

Star of the silver eve, 
What hast thou noted, 
While o'er the tower and tree 
High hast thou floated ? 
" Blue blades and bonnet gear, 
Plaids lightly dancing, 
Lairs of the dun deer, 
And shafts dimly glancing." 

Star of the maiden's dream, 
Star of the gloaming, 
Where now doth blink thy beam, 
When owls are roaming ? 
" Where in the baron's hall 
Green moss is creeping, 
Where o'er the forest's fall 
Grey dew is weeping." 

Star of the even still, 
What now doth meet thee, 
When from the lonely hill 
Looks thy blink sweetly ? 
" Hearths in the wind bleach'd bare, 
Roofs in earth smoulder'd, 
Sheep on the dun deer's lair, 
Trees fell'd and moulder'd." * 

. * In this elegant lyric, the transition from the high state of hope and 
expectation experienced by the Jacobites during the early part oi 
Charles's career in 1745, to that of the despair and desolation which 



Farewell to Glen-Shalloch, 

A farewell for ever ! 
Farewell to my wee cot, 

That stands by the river ! 
The fall is loud sounding, 

In voices that vary, 
And the echoes surrounding 

Lament with my Mary. 

I saw her last night, 

'Mid the rocks that enclose them, 
With a babe at her knee, 

And a babe at her bosom : 
I heard her sweet voice 

In the depth of my slumber, 
And the song that she sung 

Was of sorrow and cumber. 

" Sleep sound, my sweet babe, 
There is nought to alarm thee ; 

The sons of the valley 
No power have to harm thee. 

followed the defeat at Culloden, is described with fine dramatic effect. 
The short stay of the Prince in Edinburgh was marked by much light 
revelry, that might have been prudently dispensed with, and the blue 
blades, bonnet gear, and plaids lightly dancing, were not without jus- 
tice cited afterwards as a reproach to him, when they were contrasted 
with the melancholy results of a lost cause, and the effect of the 
Dnke of Cumberland's wrath.—, 

" Hearths in the wind bleach'd bare, 

Roofs in earth smouldered, 
Sheep on the dun deer's lair, 
Trees fell'd and moulder'd." 
* The original Gaelic of this Song, which has been thus translated 
by the Ettrick Shepherd, is said to be beautifully sweet, simple, and 
touching ; and the air, which is also an original Highland one, corre- 
sponds to the simplicity and tenderness of the verses. The latter is 


I'll sing thee to rest 

In the balloch untrodden, 
With a coronach sad 

For the slain of Culloden. 

" The brave were betray'd, 

And the tyrant is daring 
To trample and waste us, 

Unpitying, unsparing. 
Thy mother no voice has, 

No feeling that changes, 
No word, sign, or song, 

But the lesson of vengeance. 

" I'll tell thee, my son, 

How our laurels are withering ; 
I'll gird on thy sword 

When the clansmen are gathering ; 
I'll bid thee go forth 

In the cause of true honour, 
And never return 

Till thy country hath won her. 

" Our tower of devotion 

Is the home of the reaver ; 
The pride of the ocean 

Is fallen for ever ; 
The pine of the forest, 

That time could not weaken, 
Is trod in the dust, 

And its honours are shaken. 

" Rise, spirits of yore, 
Ever dauntless in danger ! 

to be found in Captain Frazer's collection, under the title of "Bodhan 
an Eassain." 


For the land that was yours 
Is the land of the stranger. 

O come from your caverns, 
All bloodless and hoary, 

And these fiends of the valley 
Shall tremble before ye !" 


I had three sons, a' young, stout, and baidd, 
And they lie at ither's sides bloody and cauld ; 
I had a hame, wi' a sweet wifie there, 
And twa bonnie grandbairns my smiling to 

share ; 
I had a steer o' gude owsen to ca' : 
But the bloody duke o' Cumberland has ruin'd 

them a'. 

Revenge and despair aye by turns weet my e'e ; 
The fa' o' the spoiler I lang for to see. 

*,This fragment, and the following Song of The lovely Lass of In. 
verness, are deeply descriptive of the suffering and calamity which 
overtook the unfortunate Highlanders after the fatal field of Culloden. 
The unrelenting cruelties of the Duke of Cumberland spared neither 
age, sex, nor condition ; and Scotland for a while realized the pro- 
phecy of Peden, which foretold that the time was nigh when her peo- 
ple might ride fifty miles among her hills and vallies, and not find a 
reeking house, nor hear a crawing cock ! It is not to be wondered at, 
therefore, that the feelings of every tender and poetical heart were 
thenceforward roused in behalf of the vanquished. From that 
period till the present time, the sons of genius have uniformly ranged 
themselves on the side of the Jacobites. Accordingly their cause has 
been defended with all the enthusiasm that feeling, fancy, and genius 
could inspire, and the mistaken loyalty of the brave but ill-starred 
men who embarked in it, has been sung by Smollett, Campbell, Scott, 
Byron, Cunninghame, and Burns, in strains that will never die. This 
Song of The Old Man's Lament, and that of The lovely Lass of Inverness, 
are ascribed to Cunninghame ; the old version J3f the latter, altered 
and beautified by Burns, is subjoined. 


Friendless I lie, and friendless I gang, 

I've nane but kind Heaven to tell o' my wrang. 

" Thy auld arm," quo' Heaven, " canna strike 

down the proud : 
I will keep to mysel' the avenging thy blood." 


There liv'd a lass in Inverness, 

She was the pride of a' the town ; 
Blythe as the lark on gowan tap, 

When frae the nest it's newly flown. 
.A t kirk she wan the auld folks' love, 

At dance she wan the lads's een ; 
She was the blythest o' the blythe, 

At wooster-trystes or Hallowe'en. 

As I came in by Inverness, 

The simmer sun was sinking down ; 

there I saw the weel-faur'd lass, 

And she was greeting through the town. 
The gray-hair'd men were a' i' the streets, 

And auld dames crying, (sad to see !) 
" The flower o' the lads o' Inverness 

Lie bluidy on Culloden lea !" 

She tore her haffet links o' gowd, 
And dighted aye her comely e'e : 

" My father lies at bluidy Carlisle, 
At Preston sleep my brethren three ! 

1 thought my heart could haud nae mair, 

Mae tears could never blind my e'e ; 
But the fa' o' ane has burst my heart, 
A dearer ane there ne'er could be. 


" He trysted me o' love yestreen, 

O' love-tokens lie gave me three ; 
But he's faulded i' the arms o' weir, 

O, ne'er again to think o' me ! 
The forest flowers shall be my bed, 

My food shall be the wild berrie, 
The fa'ing leaves shall hap me owre, 

And wauken'd again I winna be. 

" O weep, O weep, ye Scottish dames ! 

Weep till ye blind a mither's e'e ! 
Nae reeking ha' in fifty miles, 

But naked corses, sad to see ! 
O spring is blythesome to the year ; 

Trees sprout, flowers bud, and birds sing hie; 
But O what spring can raise them up, 

Whose bluidy weir has seal'd the e'e ? 

" The hand of God hung heavy here, 

And lightly touch'd foul tyrannie ; 
It strack the righteous to the ground, 

And lifted the destroyer hie. 
' But there's a day,' quo' my God in prayer, 

' When righteousness shall bear the gree : 
I'll rake the wicked low i' the dust, 

And wauken, in bliss, the gude man's e'e.' " 


The lovely lass o' Inverness, 
Nae joy nor pleasure she can see; 

For e'en and morn she cries, " Alas !" 
And aye the saut tear blinds her e'e. 


" Drummossie moor ! Drummossie day ! 

A waefu' day it was to me ; 
For there I lost my father dear, 

My father dear, and brethren three. 

" Their winding sheet's the bluidy lay, 

Their graves are growing green to see ; 
And by them lies the dearest lad 

That ever blest a woman's e'e. 
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord ! 

A bluidy man I trow thou be ; 
For monie a heart thou hast made sair, 

That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee." 


" Where is your daddy gane, my little May? 
Where has our lady been a' the lang day ? 
Saw you the red-coats rank on the hall green? 
Or heard ye the horn on the mountain yestreen ? 
" Ye auld carle greybeard, spier na at me ; 
Gae spier at the maiden that sits by the sea. 
The red-coats were here, and it was na for good, 
And the raven's turn'd hoarse wi' the waught- 
ing o' blood. 

" O listen, aidd carle, how roopit his note ! 
The blood of the Fraser's too hot for his throat, 
I trow the black traitor's of Sassenach breed ; 
They prey on the living, and he on the dead. 

* The Ettrick Shepherd begs pardon of the Highlanders for adding 
so much to the original ideas of this Song, which is translated by him 
from the Gaelic. There was no need of an apology, for the English 
version is worthy both of the original song and of the Shepherd's ge- 
nius. The air, which bears the same name, is to be found in Captain 
Frazer's Collection. 


When I was a baby, we ca'd him in joke, 
The harper of Errick, the priest of the rock ; 
But now he's our mountain companion no more, 
The slave of the Saxon, the quaffer of gore." 

" Sweet little maiden, why talk you of death ? 
The raven's our friend, and he's croaking in 

wrath : 
He will not pick up from a bonnetted head, 
Nor mar the brave form by the tartan that's clad. 
But point me the cliff where the Fraser abides, 
Where Foyers, Culduthil, and Gorthaly hides. 
There's danger at hand, I must speak with them 

And seek them alone by the light of the moon. 

" Auld carle greybeard, a friend you should be, 
For the truth's on your lip, and the tear i 

your e'e ; 
Then seek in the correi that sounds on the brae, 
And sings to the rock when the breeze is away. 
I sought them last night with the haunch of 

the deer, 
And far in yon cave they were hiding in fear : 
There, at the last crow of the brown heather- 
cock, [on the rock. 
They pray'd for their prince, kneel'd, and slept 

" O tell me, auld carle, what will be the fate 
Of those who are killing the gallant and great? 
Who force our brave chiefs to the correi to go, 
And hunt their own prince like the deer or the 

roe ?" 
" My sweet little maiden, beyond yon red sun 
Dwells one who beholds all the deeds that 



Their crimes on the tyrants one day he'll repay, 
And the names of the brave shall not perish 
for aye." 


Though my fireside it be but sma', 
And bare and comfortless witha', 
I'll keep a seat, and maybe twa, 

To welcome bonnie Charlie. 
Although my aumrie and my shiel' 
Are toom as the glen of Earnanhyle, 
I'll keep my hindmost handfu' meal, 

To gie to bonnie Charlie. 

Although my lands are fair and wide, 
It's there nae langer I maun bide ; 
Yet my last hoof, and horn, and hide, 

I'll gie to bonnie Charlie. 
Although my heart is unco sair, 
And lies fu' lowly in its lair, 
Yet the last drap o' blude that's there 

I'll gie for bonnie Charlie. 


The sun rises bright in France, 
And fair sets he ; 

* This song is sweetly descriptive of the affectionate loyalty of the 
Highlanders, which was never for a moment abated by the misfor- 
tunes that overtook the object of it. The composition appears to 
have been by an exile of some note. Hogg ascribes it to Captain 
Stuart of Invernahoyle. 

f The feelings of an exile are described in this little production 
with simple and touching effect. His own calamity is completely 
lost in solicitude fur the fate of his dear Marie and her children, 


But he has tint the blink he had 
In my ain countrie. 

It's nae my ain ruin 

That weets ay my e'e, 
But the dear Marie I left ahin', 

Wi' sweet bairnies three. 

Fu' bienly low'd my ain hearth, 
And smil'd my ain Marie ! 

O I've left a' my heart behind, 
In my ain countrie ! 

O I'm leal to high heaven, 
Which aye was leal to me; 

And it's there I'll meet you a' soon, 
Frae my ain countrie. 


Oh ! I am come to the low countrie ! 

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 
Without ae penny in my purse, 

To buy a meal to me. 

It wasna sae in the Highland hills, 

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 
Nae woman in the country wide 

Sae happy was as me : 

whom fate had compelled him to leave behind; while the hope of 
meeting them in Heaven seems the only consolation left to him up- 
on earth. As a song, the verses have long been popular both in 
Scotland and England ; but it is uncertain to what period they 

* This is a well known favorite song, partly ancient and partly 
modern. The popularity of the air to which it is sung, doubtless, 


For then I had a score of kye, 

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 
Feeding on yon hill sae high, 

And giving milk to me ! 

And there I had three score o' yowes 

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 
Skipping on yon bonnie knowes, 

And casting woo to me. 

I was the happiest o' the clan : 

Sair, sair may I repine ; 
For Donald was the bravest man, 

And Donald he was mine. 

Till Charlie he came owre at last, 

Sae far, to set us free : 
My Donald's arm it wanted was 

For Scotland and for me. 

Their waefu' fate what need I tell ? 

Right to the wrang did yield ; 
My Donald and his country fell 

Upon Culloden field. 

I hae nocht left me now ava, 

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 
But bonnie orphan lad-weans twa, 

To seek their bread wi' me. 

But I hae yet a tocher-band, 
Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 

recommended it to Bums, who added the fifth, sixth, and seventh 
verses. The eighth, ninth, and tenth are by Allan Cunningham ; 
and the last is from the pen of the Ettrick Shepherd. 


My winsome Donald's durk and brand. 
Into their hands to gie. 

And still ae blink o' hope is left, 

To lighten my auld e'e ; 
To see my bairns gie blnidy crowns 

To them gait Donald die.* 

Ochon, ochon ! oh, Donald, oh ! 

Ochon, ochon, ochrie ! 
Nae woman in the warld wide 

Sae wretched now as me ! 


A soldier, for gallant achievements renown'd, 
Revolv'd in despair the campaigns of his 
youth ; 
Then beating his bosom, and sighing profound, 
That malice itself might have melted to ruth, 
" Are these," he exclaim'd, " the results of my 
toil, ' 

In want and obscurity thus to retire ? 
For this did compassion restrain me from spoil, 
When earth was all carnage, and heav'n was 
on fire? 

* Though slow and deliberate in civil pursuits, the Highlander is 
remarkably quick, active, and even furious in war. One of a clan ? 
at the battle of Culloden, being singled out and wounded, set his ? 
back against a park wall, and with his targe and claymore, bore 
singly the onset of a party of dragoons. Pushed to desperation, he 
made resistless strokes at his enemies, who crowded and encumbered 
themselves to have each the gloty of slaying him. " Save that brave- 
fellow,'' was the unregarded cry of some officers. Gillies Macbane 
was cut to pieces, but thirteen of his enemies lay dead around him. 

f In most of the versions of this song, the stanzas which reprobate 
certain Highland chiefs are omitted. They are generally understood 


" My country is ravag'd, my kinsmen are slain, 

My prince is in exile, and treated with scorn, 
My chief is no more — he hath suffer'd in vain— 

And why should I live on the mountain for- 
O wo to Macconnal, the selfish, the proud, 

Disgrace of a name for its loyalty fam'd ! 
The curses of heaven shall fall on the head 

Of Callum and Torquil, no more to be nam'd. 

" For had they but join'd with the just and the 
brave, [free; 

The Campbell had fallen, and Scotland been 
That traitor, of vile usurpation the slave, [me. 

The foe of the Highlands, of mine, and of 
The great they are gone, the destroyer is come, 

The smoke of Lochaber has redden'dthe sky : 
The war-note of freedom for ever is dumb ; 

For that have I stood, and with that I will die. 

" The sun's bright effulgence, the fragrance of air, 

The varied horizon henceforth I abhor. 
Give me death, the sole boon of a wretch in 

Which fortune can offer, or nature implore." 
To madness impell'd by his griefs as he spoke, 

And darting around him a look of disdain, _ 
Down headlong he leapt from a heaven-tower- 
ing rock, [complain. 

And sleeps where the wretched forbear to 

to refer to two chiefs of Skye, who stood aloof, either from appre- 
hension of the consequences, or from the persuasions of Argjle. 
Their refusal to join the standard of the Prince was imputed to 
them as a monstrous political sin, by all those who embarked in his 
enterprise. According to Hogg, the song seems to have been the 
production of a sennachie of Appin, the old inveterate foe of the 
Campbells, whose prevailing power, however, finally crushed and 
ruined him. 



Far over yon hills of the heather so green, 

And down by the correi that sings to the sea, 
The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane, 

The dew on her plaid, and the tear in her e'e. 
She look'd at a boat which the breezes had swung 

Away on the wave, like a bird of the main ; 
And aye as it lessen'd, she sigh'd and she sung, 

" Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again ! 
Farewell to my hero, the gallant and young ! 

Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again ! 

" The moorcock that crows on the top of Ben- 
He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame ; 
The eagle that soars o'er the cliffs of Clan 
Unaw'd and unhunted, his eiry can claim ; 
The solan can sleep on his shelve of the shore ; 
The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea : 
But, oh ! there is ane whose hard fate I deplore ; 
Nor house, ha' nor hame, in his country has he. 
The conflict is past, and our name is no more : 
There's nought left but sorrow for Scotland 
and me. 

* The Ettricfc Shepherd composed this song from some rude 
verses translated from the Gaelic, which were communicated to hira 
by Neil Gow, the famous performer on the violin. Neil wished to 
publish them on a single sheet for the sake of the old air, but found 
them too rough-spun and vulgar for publication. " Accordingly," 
says the Shepherd, " I undertook to versify them of new, and think 
I have made them a great deal better without altering one senti- 
ment." The original Highland poet has taken the usual license of 
representing Flora as bewailing a lost lover in the exiled Prince. 
Miss M'Donald's attachment to Charles, and the services she ren- 
dered him, however, appear to have been founded on duty and hu- 
manity, not love. Neither did the prince seem to view her in any 


" The target is torn from the arm of the just, 

The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave, 
The claymore for ever in darkness must rust, 

But red is the sword of the stranger and slave ; 
The hoof of the horse, and the foot of the proud, 

Have trode o'er the plumes in the bonnet of 
Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud, 

When tyranny revell'd in blood of the true ? 
Farewell, my young hero, the gallant and good ! 

The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy 


Why, my Charlie, dost thou leave me, 
Dost thou flee thy Flora's arms ? 

Were thy vows but to deceive me, 
Valiant o'er my yielding charms ? 

other light than a devoted and zealous friend. At their final part- 
ing, after having run a thousand risques together, and suffered many 
hardships, the Prince jestingly remarked, " Well, Miss Flora, I hope 
we shall yet be in a good coach and six before we die, though we be 
now a-foot ; " and then bade her adieu. Our song writers have con- 
verted an excellent and clever woman into a mere love-sick maid. 

* In this production the author has taken still greater liberties 
than the Highland poet who penned the song immediately preced- 
ing ; for he at once makes his heroine avow a licentious passion, and 
accuse the Prince of leaving her in despair. However suitable this 
may be for the purposes of poetry, it is proper to state that in every 
instance where Miss M'Donald and the Prince are the theme of 
our song writers, the license they assume is totally at variance with 
the truth of history. As detailed in a former note, the enlisting of 
this lady in the Prince's cause was entirely accidental, and happened 
while she was on a chance visit to her brother the laird of Milton, 
in the Island of South Uist, where Charles had been some time 
skulking and trying to avoid the pursuit of his enemies. The narra- 
tive of their adventures, from the moment she embarked in the 
enterprise, till his escape was finally effected, exhibits her as a 
woman of sense, courage, and discretion ; who, though exposed to 


All I bore for thee, sweet Charlie, 
"Want of sleep, fatigue, and care ; 

Brav'd the ocean late and early, 
Left my friends, for thou wast fair. 

Sleep, ye winds that waft him from me ; 

Blow, ye western breezes, blow — 
Swell the sail; for I love Charlie. — 

Ah ! they whisper, Flora, no. 
Cold she sinks beneath the billow, 

Dash'd from yonder rocky shore ; 
Flora, pride and flower of Isla, 

Ne'er to meet her Charlie more. 

Dark the night, the tempest howling, 

Bleak along the western sky ; 
Hear the dreadful thunders rolling, 

See the forked lightning fly. 
No more we'll hear the maid of Isla, 

Pensive o'er the rocky steep ; 
Her last sigh was breathed for Charlie ! 

As she sunk into the deep. 

much obloquy and a thousand inconveniences, yet was willing to 
run all hazards, for the sake of duty, humanity, and honour. 
In this light too, the Prince seems to have viewed her during the 
whole period of their intercourse ; for he constantly treated her 
with all the ceremony of polished etiquette. At Mr M'Donald 
of Kingsborough's, for instance, he uniformly rose up whenever 
she entered the room, and at meals he always insisted on her sit- 
ting at his right hand. It was the same from beginning to end of 
their journey ; and whenever an opportunity offered, he proved by 
the most punctilious respect, and the most delicate attentions, not 
only the gratitude he felt for her exertions, but the sense he must 
have entertained of her worth, her character, and her station in so- 
ciety. In short, the Prince, while under the guidance of Miss 
Flora, seems never to have forgot his own rank, or the respect 
which was due to the daughter of a proud Highland laird of the 
year 1745. 



O where shall I gae seek my bread ? 

O where shall I gae wander? 
O where shall I gae hide- my head ? 

For here I'll bide nae langer. 
The seas may row, the winds may blow, 

And swathe me round in danger ; 
My native land I must forego, 

And roam a lonely stranger. 

The glen that was my father's own, 

Must be by his forsaken ; 
The house that was my father's home 

Is levell'd with the bracken. 
Ochon ! ochon ! our glory's o'er, 

Stolen by a mean deceiver ! 
Our hands are on the broad claymore ; 

But the might is broke for ever. 

And thou, my prince, my injur'd prince, 

Thy people have disown'd thee, 
Have hunted and have driven thee hence, 

With ruin'd chiefs around thee. 
Though hard beset, when I forget 

Thy fate, young helpless rover, 
This broken heart shall cease to beat, 

And all its griefs be over. 

* It is an honourable feature in most of the Jacobite lyrics, writ- 
ten after the catastrophe in 1745, that while they bewail the expa- 
triation or ruin of private individuals, they never ftr>- a moment for- 
get the misfortunes of their Prince or of their country. Indeed, a 
sentiment of deep toned grief for the fate of the one, and for the 1 ost 
condition of the other, runs through the whole of them ; and som e- 
times, towards their close, it absorbs every other consideration. It 
is peculiarly so in this production, which is a translation from th e 
Gaelic, but by what hand is not known. 


Farewell, farewell, dear Caledon, 

Land of the Gael no longer ! 
A stranger fills thy ancient throne, 

In guile and treachery stronger. 
Thy brave and just fall in the dust, 

On ruin's brink they quiver : 
Heaven's pitying e'e is clos'd on thee, 

Adieu ! adieu for ever ! 


The small bird's rejoice on the green leaves 

returning, [the vale, 

The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' 

The primroses blow in the dews of the morning, 

And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green 

dale. [fair, 

But what can give pleasure, or what can seem 

When the lingering moments are number'd 

with care ? [springing, 

Nor birds sweetly singing, nor flow'rs gaily 

Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair. 

The deed that I dared, could it merit their ma- 
A king and a father to place on his throne ! 

* In this well known beautiful lyric of Burns, and in the annony- 
mous song which follows it, a strain of romantic, or rather heroic 
sentiment, is ascribed to Prince Charles, which, it is to be feared, his 
mind was little qualified either to conceive or to appreciate. A short 
lived halo of glory was thrown around his character, inconsequence 
of the daringness of his attempt, and the momentary success with 
which it was at first attended ; but subsequent events dissolved the 
illusion, and in more advanced life his conduct unequivocally 
betrayed that he possessed all the qualities which had proved so 
fatal both to the fortunes and the character of his predecessors. The 
enemies of the Stuarts exult in this fact ; while their friends find 


His right are these hills, and his right are these 

vallies, [none ! 

Where wild beasts find shelter, tho' I can find 

But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, 

forlorn ! [mourn ; 

My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I 

Your faith proved so loyal in hot bloody trial, 

Alas ! can I make it no better return. 


O think not I weep that an outcast I roam, 
That the black heath at midnight thus cheer- 
less I tread; [home, 
Tho' the realm of my sires dare not yield me a 
Scarce a cave on her mountains to shelter my 

Though the day brings no comfort, the night no 
Yet not for my own doth my spirit repine, 
But in anguish I weep for the sorrows of those 
Whose eyes and whose bosoms have melted 
for mine. 

The yell of the blood-hounds that hunt them 
by day, 
On my short startled slumbers forever attends, 
While the watch-fires that beacon my night- 
covered way, [of my friends. 
Are the flames that have burst from the roofs 

an apology for the aberrations of Charles's later years, by ascribing 
them to the influence of grief and disappointment pressing upon 
a wounded and broken spirit. 


Tho' the blade, blood-encrusted, bath sunk in 

the sheathe, 

No time and no distance a refuge afford, 

But chased on the mountains, and tracked o'er 

the heath, [sword. 

The scaffold must end what was left by the 

Ye loyal, ye brave, and is this your reward ? 

With the meed of the traitor, the coward 

repaid, [bared, 

While in peace ye had lived had your bosoms been 

On the prayer of your Prince, that implored 

you for aid. 

Unpitied, unspared, let it sweep o'er my path, 
On me be concentered its fury, its force, 

My rash lips have conjured this tempest of 

wrath, [course. 

But why should the sinless be scourged in its 

If the fury of man but obey thy decree, 

If so guilty, my God, be the deed I have dared, 

Let thy curse, let thy vengeance, be poured 

upon me, [spared. 

But, alas ! let my friends, let my country be 

lenachan's farewell.* 

Fare thee weel, my native cot, 
Bothy o' the birken tree ! 

* The Gaelic original of this song is said to be exceedingly beau- 
tiful. Indeed, even from this version it appears to be highly charac- 
teristic, though the translator has obviously done it no great justice. 
The air is also very fine, and a true Highland one. In Frazer's col- 
lection, it bears nearly the same name with the song, " Ho cha neil 
mulad oirn." 


Sair the heart and hard the lot 

O' the lad that parts \vi' thee. 
Thee my grandsire's fondly rear'd,' 

Then thy wicker-work was full : 
Mony a Campbell's glen he clear'd, 

Hit the buck and hough'd the bull. 

In thy green and grassy crook 

Mair lies hid than crusted stanes ; 
In thy bien and weirdly nook 

Lie some stout Clan- Gillian banes. 
Thou wert aye the kinsman's hame, 

Routh and welcome was his fare ; 
But if serf or Saxon came, 

He cross'd Murich's hirst nae mair. 

Never hand in thee yet bred 

Kendna how the sword to wield ; 
Never heart of thine had dread 

Of the foray or the field : 
Ne'er on straw, mat, bulk, or bed, 

Son of thine lay down to die ; 
Every lad within thee bred 

Died 'neath heaven's open eye. 

Charlie Stuart he came here, 

For our king, as right became : 
Wha could shun the Bruce's heir ? 

Wha could tine our royal name? 
Firm to stand, and free to fa', 

Forth he march'd right valiantlie. 
Gane is Scotland's king and law ! 

Woe to the Highlands and to me ! 

Freeman yet, I'll scorn to fret, 
Here nae langer I maun stay ; 


But when I my hame forget, 
May my heart forget to play t 

Fare thee well, my father's cot, 
Bothy o' the birken tree ! 

Sair the heart and hard the lot 
O' the lad that parts wi' thee. 


Royal Charlie's now awa, 

Safely owre the friendly main ; 
Mony a heart will break in twa, 
Should he ne'er come back again. 
Will you no come back again ? 
Will you no come back again ? 
Better lo'ed you'll never be, 
And will you no come back again ? 

* This song belongs to the times which compose the subject of it, 
and it is written with considerable spirit. The imputation on the 
men of the isles is, however, too general, for even these gentlemen 
who refused, upon principle, to join the standard of Charles, had no 
wish that he should be captured ; but on the contrary, many of them 
afterwards secretly lent themselves to his escape. If suspicion rested 
upon any one, it was only on the Laird of M'Leod, who wrote to 
Macdonald of Kingsborough, desiring him, if the Prince fell in his 
way, to deliver him up, and saying that he would thereby do a ser- 
vice to his country. But Kingsborough acted a very different part ; 
for he lodged the Prince hospitably in his house, and did not leave 
him till he saw him safe out of the reach of his enemies. For this he 
was afterwards taken up and imprisoned in a dungeon at Fort Au- 
gustus, where being examined by Sir Everard Falkner, he was put in 
mind how noble an opportunity he had lost of making the fortune of 
himself and his family for ever. To which Kingsborough indignantly 
replied, " No, Sir Everard, death would have been preferable to such 
dishonour. But at any rate, had I gold and silver, piled heaps on 
heaps, to the bulk of yon huge mountain, the vast mass could not 
afford me half the satisfaction I find in my own breast, from doing 
what I have done." This gentleman was afterwards removed to 
Edinburgh Castle, where he was kept close prisoner for a year, 
nobody being permitted to see him but the officer upon guard, the 
Serjeant and the keeper, which last was appointed to attend him as a 
iervant. When the act of grace was passed he was discharged. 


Mony a traitor 'mang the isles 

Brak the band o' nature's law ; 
Mony a traitor, wi' his wiles, 
Sought to wear his life awa. 
Will he no come back again ? 
Will he no come back again ? 
Better lo'ed he'll never be, 
And will he no come back again ? 

The hills he trode were a' his ain, 
And bed beneath the birken tree ; 

The bush that hid him on the plain, 

There's none on earth can claim but he, 
Will he no come back again, &c 

Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing, 

Unto the e'ening sinking down, 
Or merle that makes the woods to ring, 

To me they hae nae ither soun', 

Than, will he ne'er come back again, &c. 

Mony a gallant sodger fought, 

Mony a gallant chief did fa' ; 
Death itself were dearly bought, 

A' for Scotland's king and law. 
Will he no come back again, &c. 

Sweet the lavrock's note and lang, 

Lilting wildly up the glen ; 
And aye the o'ercome o' the sang 

Is, " Will he no come back again ?" 
Will he no come back again, &c. 



Geordie sits in Charlie's chair, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
Deil cock him gin he sit there, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
Charlie yet shall mount the throne, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
Weel ye ken it is his own, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

* There have been innumerable versions of this Song, and its ex- 
treme popularity has always proved that not only was there much 
sympathy entertained even by the friends of the reigning family, for 
the fate of the Chevalier and his followers, after their defeat, but that 
the measures of severity with which the Duke of Cumberland thought 
it necessary to follow up his victory, were held in general detesta- 
tion. The Ettrick Shepherd says he is in possession of various copies of 
it, and that in some of the common editions it has the appearance 
of a medley rather than a regular ballad. This edition, however, he 
considers perfect ; all the good verses being in it, and there being also 
a kind of uniformity preserved throughout. The following verses, 
published in the Scots Musical Museum, have, doubtless, served as 
the basis for some of the modern additions which have been made 
to it :— . 

" Were ye e'er at Crookie den, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ? 
Saw ye Willie and his men ? 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ! 
" They're our faes wha brunt an> slew, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
There at last they gat their due, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie » 
" The hettest place was fill'd wi' twa, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
It was Willie and his papa, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
" The deil sat girning i» the neuk, 
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; 
Breaking sticks to roast the Duke, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
" The bluidy monster gied a yell, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
An' loud the laugh ga'ed round a' hell, 
My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie." 


Weary fa' the Lawland loon, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Wha took frae him the British crown, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
But leaze me on the kilted clans, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
That fought for him at Prestonpans, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Ken ye the news I hae to tell, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ? 
Cumberland's awa to hell, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
When he came to the Stygian shore, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
The deil himsel' wi' fright did roar, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

When Charon grim came out to him, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
" Ye 're welcome here, ye devil's limb !" 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
They pat on him a philabeg, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
And in his doup they ca'd a peg, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

How he did skip and he did roar, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ! 
The deils ne'er saw sic sport before, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
They took him neist to Satan's ha', 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
To lilt it wi' his grandpapa, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 


The deil sat girnin in the neuk, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
Riving sticks to roast the duke, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
They pat him neist upon a spit, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
And roasted him baith head and feet, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

Wi' scalding brunstane and wi' fat, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, 
They flamm'd his carcase weel wi' that, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 
They ate him up baith stoop and roop, 

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie ; 
And that's the gate they serv'd the duke, 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 


O sweet was the cot of my father, 

That stood in the wood up the glen, 
And sweet was the red-blooming heather 

And the river that flow'd from the Ben : 
And dear was the little bird singing 

From morning till e'en on the thorn, 
And the daisies and violets springing 

So fair on the bank of the burn. 

* This Song, which is said to be a translation from the Gaelic, was 
communicated to the Ettrick Shepherd annonymously, and appears in 
his collection simply under the signature of T. G. The author, %vho- 
ever he was, has entered with taste, feeling, and effect into the spirit 
which may well be supposed to have inspired one of the unfortunate 
partizans of the fugitive Prince In 1745. 


I rose at the dawn of the morning, 

And rang'd through the woods at my will ; 

And often till evening's returning 
I loitered my time on the hill. 

Well known was each dell in the wild wood, 
Each flower spot, and green grassy lea ; 

sweet were the days of my childhood, 
And dear the remembrance to me ! 

But sorrows came sudden and early, 
Such joys I may ne'er know again, 

1 followed the gallant Prince Charlie, 

To fight for his rights and my ain. 
No home has he now to protect him 

From the bitterest tempest that blows ; 
No friend, save his God, to direct him, 

While watched and surrounded by foes. 

I have stood to the last with the heroes, 

That thought Scotland's right to have saved ; 
No danger that threatened could fear us, 

But we fell 'neath the blast that we braved. 
My chief wanders lone and forsaken, 

'Mong the hills where his stay wont to be ; 
His clansmen are slaughtered or taken, 

For, like him, they all fought to be free. 

The sons of the mighty have perished, 

And freedom with them fled away ; 
The hopes that so long we have cherished, 

Have left us for ever and aye. 
As we hide on the brae 'mong the braken, 

We hear our hames crash as they burn. 
O God, when shall vengeance awaken 

And the day of our glory return ? 



Bannocks o' bear meal, bannocks o' barley, 
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley ! 
Wha in a brulzie will first cry " a parley ;" 
Never the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley ! 
Bannocks o' bear meal, bannocks o' barley, 
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' 

Wha drew the gude claymore for Charlie ? 
Wha cow'd the lowns o' England rarely ? 
And claw'd their backs at Falkirk fairly ? — 
Wha but the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley ! 
Bannocks o' bearmeal, &c. 

Wha, when hope was blasted fairly, 
Stood in ruin wi' bonnie Prince Charlie ? 
And 'neath the Duke's bluidy paws dreed fu' 

sairly ? 
Wha but the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley ! 
Bannocks o' bearmeal, &c. 


Ken ye whar cleekie Murray's gane ? 
He's gane to dwall in his lang hame. 

* This heart-stirring Song is alike popular for its air and the re- 
collections it inspires. The allusion in the last verse is sarcastic of 
the horrid and needless severities which the Duke of Cumberland in- 
flicted on the poor Highlanders after the defeat at Culloden. 

t Though the language and expression of this Song, even to a Scot- 
tish ear, is offensively vulgar, yet it exhibits throughout a combination 
of the ludicrous and the horrible, that would have done honour even 
to the genius of Burns. The chief object of the author's satire, is 


The beddle clapt him on the doup, 
" O hard I've earn'd my gray groat. 
Lie thou there and sleep thou soun' ; 
Heav'n winna wauken sic a loon." 

Whare's his gowd, and whare's his gain, 
He rakit out 'neath Satan's wame ? 
He hasna what'll pay his shot, 
Nor caulk the keel o' Charon's boat. 
Be there gowd whare he's to beek, 
He'll rake it out o' brunstane smeek. 

the famous Secretary Murray, who, on being taken prisoner and car- 
ried to London, betrayed some secrets that caused great trouble to 
several families who would otherwise have escaped. But the Duke 
of Cumberland also comes in for a share of castigation, and we may 
judge from this specimen of the feeling which his policy excited in 
Scotland, after his victory, what were the nature and character of the 
evils he inflicted on the unhappy followers of the Prince. We 
have already described some of these in preceding notes; but, as a 
further specimen, we quote the following extract of a letter from a 
clergyman in the North, published in the Scots Magazine, for June, 
1746 : — " As the most of this parish is burnt to ashes, and all the 
cattle belonging to the rebels carried off by his Majesty's forces, there 
is no such thing as money or pennyworth to be got in this desolate 
place. My family is now much increased by the wives and infants of 
those in the rebellion in my parish, crowding for a mouthful of bread 
to keep them from starving, which no good Christian can refuse." 
Many similar documents might be quoted in proof of the severe or 
rather merciless vengeance wreaked upon every quarter in which the 
insurgents had made the least head. In fact, by order of this fero- 
cious Duke, the government troops carried fire and sword through 
whole districts of the Highlands, driving off the cattle, the only 
means by which the people subsisted, and leaving those who did not 
perish under military execution, to die a more lingering and hor- 
rible death from famine. Many poor people who never had offend- 
ed, females, decripped old men, and helpless infants became the 
victims of this savage ferocity ; and mothers, with babes at their 
breast, were often found dead on the hills, literally from starva- 
tion. The Chevalier Johnstone details many acts of needless 
oppression and cruelty, committed by the government troops, 
and dwells with indignant energy on the barbarous policy which the 
Duke of Cumberland thus pursued. " As soon," says he, "as the 
Duke was certain, from the total dispersion of the Highlanders, 
that he had no reason to fear their re-appearance with arms in their 
hands, he divided his army into different detachments, which were 



He's in a' Satan's frything pans, 
Scouth'ring the blude frae aff his han's ; 
He's washing them in brunstane lowe ; 
His kintra's blude it winna thow : 
The hettest soap-suds o' perdition 
Canna out thae stains be washing. 

Ae deevil roar'd, till hearse and roopit, 
" He's pyking the gowd frae Satan's pu'pit 
Anither roar'd, wi' eldritch yell, 
" He's howking the keystane out o' hell, 
To damn us mair wi' bless'd day-light !" 
Syne doukit i' the caudrons out o' sight. 

ordered to scour the country, in order to pillage the houses and seize 
prisoners. These detachments having also a license from his High- 
ness to act as executioners at will, committed the most horrible cru- 
elties; burning the castles of the chiefs of the clans, violating their 
wives and daughters, and making it their amusement to hang up the 
unfortunate Highlanders who happened to fall into their hands, and 
thus surpassing in barbarity the most ferocious savages. Orders were 
at the same time transmitted to all the towns and villages between 
Inverness and Edinburgh, to stop any person without a passport ; and 
a body of cavalry was detached to scour the Low Country, at the foot 
of the mountains, and to seize every person against whom there 
might be the slightest suspicion. In consequence of these arrange- 
ments, it was almost impossible to escape the fury of this sanguinary 
Duke, who, on account of his excesses and cruelties, unheard of 
among civilized nations, was held in contempt by all respectable per- 
sons in England — even by those who were in no manner partizans of 
the house of Sluart ; and he was ever afterwards known in London 
by the appellation of ' the Butcher." " A personal anecdote related 
of this Prince, exactly corresponds with the foregoing facts, and more 
than justifies all the evil that has been recorded of his character. 
Soon after the flight of the insurgents at Culloden, he was riding over 
the field, accompanied by Colonel Wolfe, the future hero of Quebec, 
when he observed a wounded Highlanderraise himself up on his elbow, 
and look at them with what appeared to him to be a smile of defiance, 
" Wolfe," cried he, "shoot me that Highland scoundrel, who thus 
dares to look on us with so insolent a stare." " My commission," 
said the gentle and excellent Wolfe, "is at your Royal Highness's 
disposal ; but I can never consent to become an executioner." The 
Highlander, in all probability, was soon dispatched by some less scru- 
pulous hand ; but it was remarked, that from that day, the recusant 
officer declinedvisibly in the favour and confidence of his commander. 


He stole auld Satan's brunstane leister, 
Till his waukit loofs were in a blister ; 
He stole his Whig spunks, tipt wi' brunstane, 
And stole his scalping whittle's whunstane ; 
And out o' its red-hot kist he stole 
The very charter-rights o' hell. 

Satan, tent weel the pilfering villain ; 
He'll scrimp your revenue by stealing. 
Th' infernal boots in which you stand in, 
With which your worship tramps the damn'd in, 
He'll wile them aff your cloven cloots, 
And wade through hell-fire in your boots. 

Equally authentic with this anecdote'is the fact, that on the day of 
the action, when it was discovered that some of the wounded had 
survived both the weapons of the enemy and the dreadful weather 
that came on in the interval, he sent out detachments from Invern ess 
to put all those unfortunates to death. The savage executioners of his 
barbarous commands performed their duty with awful accuracy and 
deliberation, carrying every one they could find to different pieces of 
rising ground throughout the field, where, having first ranged them in 
due order, they dispatched them with musketry. On the follow ing day, 
other parties were sent out to search the houses of the neighbouring 
peasantry, in which, it was understood, many of the mutilated High- 
landers had taken refuge. They found so great a number as almost 
to render the office revolting to the bearers of it ; but with the ex- 
ception of a few who received mercy at the hands of the officers, all 
were conscientiously murdered. An eye-witness afterwards reported, 
that on this day he saw no fewer than seventy-two individuals killed 
in cold blood ! But, according to the same author, by far the most 
horrible instance of cruelty which occurred in the course of those 
unhappy times, was one which took place in the immediate vicinity 
of Culloden House. Nineteen wounded officers of the Highland army 
had been carried, immediately after the battle, from a wood in which 
they had found their first shelter, to the court-yard of that residence, 
where they remained two days in the open air, with their wounds 
undressed, and only receiving such acts of kindness from the steward 
of the house, as that official chose to render at the risque of his own 
life. Upon the third day, when the search was made throughout the 
neighbouring cottages, these miserable men were seized by the ruth- 
less soldiers of the Duke, tied with ropes, tossed into a cart, and taken 
out to the side of a park wall, when, being ranged up in order, they 
were commanded to prepare for instant death. Such as retained the 
use of their limbs, and whose spirits, formerly so daring, could not sus- 


Auld Satan cleekit him by the spaul, 
And stappit him i' the dub o' hell. 
The foulest fiend there doughtna bide him, 
The damn'd they wadna fry beside him, 
Till the bluidy duke came trysting hither, 
And the ae fat butcher fried the tither. 

Ae deevil sat splitting brunstane matches ; 
Ane roasting the Whigs like bakers' batches ; 
Ane wi' fat a Whig was basting, 
Spent wi' frequent prayer and fasting. 
A' ceas'd when thae twin butchers roar'd, 
And hell's grim hangman stopt and glowr'd. 

" Fy, gar bake a pie in haste, 
Knead it of infernal paste," 

tain them through this trying scene, fell upon their knees, and with 
many invocations to heaven, implored mercy. But they petitioned 
in vain. While in this attitude of supplication, and before they could 
utter one brief prayer to their Maker, the platoon, which stood at the 
distance of only a few yards, received orders to fire. Almost every 
one of the unhappy men fell prostrate upon the ground, and instantly 
expired. But, to make sure work, the soldiers were ordered to club 
their muskets, and dash out the brains of all who seemed to show any 
symptoms of life. This order was obeyed literally. One individual 
alone survived-— a gentleman of the Clan Fraser. He had received a 
ball, but yet showed the appearance of life. The butt of a soldier's 
musket was accordingly applied to his head to dispatch him ; never- 
theless, though his nose and cheeks were frightfully injured, and one 
of his yes dashed out, he did not expire. He lay for some time in a 
state of agony not to be described, when Lord Boyd, son of the Earl of 
Kilmarnock, happening to pass, perceived his body move, and ordered 
him to be conveyed to a secure place, where he recovered in the course 
of three months. The unfortunate man lived many years afterwards 
to tell the dreadful tale. It is upon such cold-blooded atrocities, 
executed by the orders, and almost under the eye, of this notorious 
Prince, that posterity must form an estimate of his character. And 
it is clear that nothing but a just though indignant consideration of 
his merciless policy could have prompted the satire of " Cumberland 
and Murray's descent into Hell,'' a composition, which, notwithstand- 
ing its coarseness and vulgarity, has the singular merit of being, in 
point of conception, at once the most horrible and ludicrous that ever 
was written since the world began. 


Quo Satan ; and in his mitten'd hand 

He hynt up bluidy Cumberland, 

And whittled him down like bow-kail castock, 

And in his hettest furnace roasted. 

Now hell's black tableclaith was spread, 
Th' infernal grace was reverend said ; 
Yap stood the hungry fiends a' owre it, 
Their grim jaws gaping to devour it, 
When Satan cried out, fit to scunner, 
" Owre rank a judgment's sic a dinner !" 

Hell's black bitch mastiff lapt the broo, 

And slipt her collar and gat gae, 

And, maddening wi' perdition's porridge, 

Gamph'd to and fro for wholesome forage. 

Unguarded was the hallan gate, 

And Whigs pour'd in like Nith in spate. 

The worm of hell, which never dies, 
In wintled coil writhes up and fries. 
Whilst the porter bitch the broo did lap, 
Her blind whalps bursted at the pap. 
Even hell's grim sultan, red wud glowrin', 
Dreaded that Whigs would usurp o'er him. 


Quantum mutatus ab illo. 

To all that virtue's holy ties can boast, 
To truth, to honour, and to manhood lost, 

* Murray of Broughton was a man of family and fortune in Tweed- 
dale ; but, independent of his rank, he possessed considerable talents 
and acquirements. It was doubtless these qualifications that recom- 
mended him to the office of Secretary in the insurgent army. The 
Highlanders, however, were jealous of him from first to last; and 


How hast thou wandered from the sacred road, 
The paths of honesty, the pole to God ! 
O fallen ! fallen from the high degree 
Of spotless fame, and pure integrity ! 
Where all that gallantry that filled your breast ? 
The pride of sentiment, the thought profest, 
Th' unbiassed principle, the generous strain, 
That warmed your blood, and beat in every vein ? 
All, all are fled ! Once honest, steady, brave ; 
How great the change to traitor, coward, knave ! 

O hateful love of life, that prompts the mind, 
The godlike, great, and good, to leave behind ; 
From wisdom's laws, from honour's glorious plan, 
From all on earth that dignifies the man, 
With steps unhallowed ; wickedly to stray, 
And trust and friendship's holy bands betray ! 
Cursed fear of death ! whose bug-bear terrors 

Th' unmanly breast from suffering in the right ; 
That strikes the man from th' elevated state 
From every character, and name of great, 
And throws him down beneath the vile degree 
Of galley'd slaves, or dungeon villany. 

O Murray! Murray! once of truth approved, 
Your Prince's darling, by his party loved, 

the result more than justified their worst suspicions of his integrity. 
When taken prisoner and carried to London, he there made such dis- 
closures as compromised the safety of numerous families, who would 
otherwise have remained unsuspected. Many of them were put to 
great trouble, and some individuals only escaped imprisonment, or the 
scaffold, by flying into foreign countries. What put Murray's treach- 
ery beyond all doubt, was his delivering up the correspondence of old 
Lord Lovat, upon the evidence of which, chiefly, his Lordship's convic- 
tion and execution immediately followed. The price at which this 
celebrated Secretary thus purchased his life from Government is 
justly characterised by the indignant author of the above poem. The 
wretched man lived a few years the life of a dog — contemned, hated, 
or despised by all the world. From the Jacobites he ever after had no 
other name than Traitor Murray. 


When all were fond your worth and fame to raise, 
And expectations spoke your future praise • 
How could you sell that Prince, that cause, that 

For life enchained to infamy and shame ? 
See gallant Arthur, whose undaunted soul 
No dangers frighten and no fears control, 
With unconcern, the axe and block surveys, 
And smiles at all the dreadful scene displays ; 
While undisturbed his thoughts so steady keep, 
He goes to death as others go to sleep. 
Gay 'midst their gibbets and devouring fire, 
What numbers hardy in the cause expire ! 
But what these to thee ? examples vain ; 
Yet see and blush if yet the power remain ; 
Behold the menial hand that broke your bread, 
That wiped your shoes, and with your crumbs 

were fed, 
When life and riches proffered to his view, 
Before his eyes the strong temptation threw, 
Rather than quit integrity of heart, 
Or act, like you, the unmanly traitor's part, 
Disdains the purchase of a worthless life, 
And bares his bosom to the butch'ring knife, 
Each mean compliance gallantly denies, 
And in mute honesty is brave, and dies. 
While you, though tutored from your early youth 
To all the principles of steady truth ; 
Though station, birth, and character conspire 
To kindle in your breast the manly fire, 
Friends, reputation, conscience, all disclaim, 
To glory lost, and sunk in endless shame, 
For the dull privilege to breathe the air ; 
Let everlasting infamy declare, 
And down to late posterity record 
A name that's cursed, abandoned, and abhorred ! 


Go, wretch! enjoy the purchase you have 
Scorn and reproach your every step attend, 
By all mankind neglected and forgot, 
Retire to solitude — retire and rot. 
But whither, whither can the guilty fly 
From the devouring worms that never die ? 
Those inward stings that rack the villain's 

Haunt his lone hours, and break his tortured rest; 
Midst caves, 'midst rocks, and deserts you 'may 
A safe retreat from all the human kind ; [find 
But to what foreign region can you run, 
Your greatest enemy, yourself, to shun ? 
Where'er thou go'st wild auguish and despair, 
And black remorse attend with hellish stare, 
Tear your distracted soul with torments fell; 
Your passions, devils, and your bosom, hell ! 

Thus may you drag your heavy chain along, 
Some minutes more inglorious life prolong ; 
And when the fates shall cut a coward's breath, 
Weary of being, yet afraid of death, 
If crimes like thine hereafter are forgiven, 
Judas and Murray both may go to heaven ! 


When William shall depart this life, 
And from this earth be hurled, 

Ah ! sure, to guess where he shall go, 
Must puzzle all the world. 

* Hogg says that this is but one of a thousand specimens in his 
possession, of the vituperation and satire which the Duke of Cumber- 
land's severities provoked after the battle of Culloden. Whether such 
unsparing abuse was merited or not, the reader is left to judge from 
facts quoted in someof the preceding notes to this volume. 


In heavenly mansions there's no rest 

For one of such contagion, 
Since nought unclean can enter in 

To that bright blessed region. 

Where shall be found a place that's fit ? 

In hell he cannot enter, 
For Satan no equal will admit ; 

Then chain him to the centre. 

There, till that great and dreadful day, 
When fervent heat shall purge him ; 

When this vain world shall pass away, 
May all the furies scourge him. 


Up and rin awa, Willie, 
Up and rin awa, Willie ; 
The Highland clans will rise again, 
And chase you far awa, Willie. 
Prince Charles he'll be down again, 

With clans both great and sma', Willie, 
To play your king a bonny spring, 
And make you pay for a', Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c, 

Therefore give o'er to burn and slay, 

And ruin send on a', Willie, 
Or you may get your butcher horns 

Your own dirge for to blaw, Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

* This Song is from the MSS. of Mr Hardie of Glasgow. The his- 
torical allusions are not quite correct; but it breathes the real spirit 
of Jacobitism, and the expression is well adapted to the original air. 


For had the clans been in your way, 
As they were far awa, Willie, 

They'd chas'd you faster aff the field 
Than ever wind did blaw, Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

You may thank God for evermore, 
That deil a clan you saw, Willie, 

Wi' pistol, durk, or edge claymore, 
Your loggerhead to claw, Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

Then take my last and best advice, 
Pack bag and baggage a', Willie, 

To Hanover, if you be wise, 

Take Feck and George and a', Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

There's one thing I'd almost forgot, 
Perhaps there may be twa, Willie : 

Be sure to write us back again, 
How they receiv'd you a', Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 


O dreary laneliness is now 
'Mang ruin'd hamlets smoking ! 

Yet the new-made widow sits and sings, 
While her sweet babe she's rocking : 

* Cromek has published this sweet little fragment as an original of 
the olden time; but we suspect it to be one of the Parnassian flow- 
erets of Allan Cunninghame. 


" On Darien think, on dowie Glencoe, 

On Murray, traitor ! coward ! 
On Cumberland's blood-blushing hands, 

And think on Charlie Stuart." 


" Were ye at Drummossie muir, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie ? 
Saw ye the duke the clans o'erpower, 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie ? 
" My heart bleeds, as well it may, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie : 
Lang may Scotland rue the day, 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie. 

" Many a lord of high degree, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 
Shall never more his mountains see,f 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie. 
Many a chief of birth and fame, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 
Is hunted down like savage game, 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie. 

* The Ettrick Shepherd wrote this Song when in early youth, and 
it was a happy precursor of what he has since done in that species of 
writing. The sentiment and the expression were alike creditable to 
his patriotism and his genius. 

f This allusion was pathetically exemplified in the case of the Earl 
of Kilmarnock. In the flight from Culloden he mistook a party of 
dragoons for Fitzjames's horse, and was instantly taken prisoner. His 
son, Lord Boyd, at that moment held a commission in the royal army, 
and from the ranks witnessed his father's distress and humiliation as 
he was led along the line, without his hat, which he had lost in the 
confusion, and with his long hair flying in disorder around his head 
and face. As the Earl passed the place where the youth stood, the 
latter stepped out of the ranks, and taking oft his own hat, placed it 
on his father's head without uttering a word. The filial affection that 


" Few, but brave, the clansmen were. 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie ; 
But heavenly mercy was not there,* 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie. 
Posterity will ne'er us blame, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 
But brand with blood the Brunswick na me. 

My bonnie laddie, Highland laddie. 

" Can it prove for Scotland's good, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 
Thus to drench our glens with blood, 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie ? 

thus warred -with discipline and political duty, was justified by the 
sympathetic applause of the whole array. 

*The Ettrick Shepherd here enters indignantly into the common 
feelings of his countrymen with regard to the conduct of the Duke of 
Cumberland, and in our opinion he does so with great justice. Un- 
fortunately for the memory of this Prince, all the instances of military 
execution which followed his victory at Culloden, were acts and 
deeds emanating from himself, committed upon his sole responsi- 
bility ; and indeed so much had he and his minions exceeded the 
powers vested in them by Government, that it was afterwards fcund 
necessary to get Parliament to pass a bill of indemnity to screen him 
from all future consequences of his horrible violations of the law. 
How little he regarded any thing like legal restraint, may be guessed 
at from the fact of one of his officers having caused a citizen of Stir- 
ling to be flogged on the streets of that burgh, in spite of the interfe- 
rence of the civil authorities, and without a shadow of justification. 
And when even Lord President Forbes, who was the main prop of 
the civil Government at that period, mildly complained of some simi- 
lar outrages against what he called the laws of the land ! — ." The laws 
of the land, my Lord," exclaimed the Duke contemptuously, " By 
G — I'll make a brigade give laws to the land." In fact, no form 
of trial was permitted in the cases of the insurgents, even within a 
few miles of Edinburgh, where the courts were always sitting. Men 
were hanged or shot in the most prompt and summary manner, and 
with as little pity or remorse as if they had been wild beasts. It was the 
same with regard to their property. Houses were plundered in open 
day at the will of the soldiers, and it often happened that creditors 
had the mortification of seeing those effects to which they looked for- 
ward as a guarantee for payment of money owing to them, sold in 
open day, and the proceeds pocketed by the myrmidons of the Duke. 
But it would be endless to recount the tyranny and consequent misery 
experienced through such monstrous measures. Government be- 


Duke William nam'd, on yonder muir, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 
Will fire our blood for evermore, 

My bonny laddie, Highland laddie." 

came at last thoroughly ashamed of them, and accordingly, all 
farther excesses were prohibited by proclamation. The Duke re- 
turned to England, and received the reward of his success : but un- 
fortunately for his memory, he left to the indignant Scots the task 
of recording his character, and of transmitting his fame to posterity 
in the following epitaph : 

Here continueth to stink 

The memory of William, Duke of Cumberland, 

Who, with unparalleled barbarity, 

And inflexible hardness of heart, 

In spite of all the motives to lenity, 

That policy or humanity could suggest, 

Endeavoured to ruin Scotland 

By all the means a tyrant could invent. 

Nor was he more infamous 

For the monstrous inhumanity of his nature, 

Than fortunate in accumulating 

Titles and Wealth ; 


Without merit, 

Without experience, 

Without military skill, 

He was created a Field-Marshall, 

And rewarded with 

The Profits of two Regiments, 

Besides a settled income of £50,000 a-year ! 

He was the only man of his time 

Who acquired the name of a hero 

By the actions of a butchering Provot; 

For, having with ten thousand regular troops 

Defeated half that number of famished and fatigued militia, 

He murdered the wounded, 

Hanged or starved the prisoners, 

Ravaged the country with fire and sword, 


After thus rioting in continued cruelty, 

He posted off as if in triumph 

With the supposed head 

Of a brave but unfortunate Prince ! 

O, generous and loyal reader, 

Although hope may flee thee for a while, 

And truth, and right, and justice be obscured, 

Let not thy spirit altogether sink ; 
Let not this success once tempt thee to despair. 



There's news ! — news ! gallant news ! 

That carle dinna ken, joe ; 
There's gallant news of tartan trews, 
And Red Clan- Ronald's men, joe. 
There has been blinking on the bent, 

And flashing on the fell, joe ; 
The red-coat sparks ha'e got their yerks, 
But carle darena tell, joe. 

There's news ! — news ! &c. 

The prig dragoons, they swore by 'zoons, 
The rebels' hides to tan, joe ; 

But when they fand the Highland brand, 
They funkit and they ran, joe. 
There's news ! news ! &c. 

Had English might stood by the right, 
As they did vaunt full vain, joe ; 

Or play'd the parts of Highland hearts, 
The day was a' our ain, joe. 

There had been news ! &c. 

Heaven that punisheth our sins, 

Never overlooks such crimes as these. 

Retribution, though often slow, is always sure. 

This disgrace to royalty 

Having filled up the measure of his iniquity, 

At length lost the favour even of his own friends ; 

And despised by all mankind, floundered in the mud of contempt , 

His success was forgotten, 

His triumph ceased with the occasion that gave it birth, 

His glory vanished like the morning dew ; 


They who once adored him as a hero and a god, 

Did at last curse him 

As a madman and a devil ! 

* This song, on account of the air to which it is usually sung, and 

its own lively and vigorous expression, is a general favourite. The 

conduct of Clanronald's men, however, was not always such as to 


O wad the frumpy froward Duke, 

Wi' a' his brags o' weir, joe, 
But meet our Charlie hand to hand, 

In a' his Highland gear, joe, 
There wad be news ! &c. 

We darena say the right's the right, 
Though weel the right we ken, joe ; 

But we dare think, and take a drink, 

To Red Clan-Ronald's men, joe. 

And tell the news ! &c. 

Afore I saw the back of ane 

Turn'd on his daddy's ha', joe, 
I'd rather see his towers a waste, 

His bonnet, bends, an' a', joe. 
But yet there's news ! &c. 

Afore I saw our rightful prince 

From foreign foggies flee, joe. 
I'd lend a hand to Cumberland 

To row him in the sea, joe. 

But still there's news ! &c. 

Come fill your cup, and fill it up, 
We'll drink the toast you ken, joe ; 

And add beside, the Highland plaid, 
And Red Clan- Ronald's men, joe. 
And cry our news, &c. 

justify the chorus ; since there can be no doubt that their punctilious 
or rather superstitious folly lost the clay at Culloden. After the 
army had been drawn up in order of battle, and was about to engage 
with the enemy, they refused to advance, because, forsooth, they had 
been posted on the left, instead of the right. As an excuse for such 
absurd conduct, they alleged that from the battle of Eannockbum 
till that day, they had been allowed the post of honour on the right, 
and they consideied their being placed upon the left as a bad omen. 


We'll drink to Athol's bonny lord ; 

To Cluny of the glen, joe ; 
To Donald Blue, and Appin true, 
And Red Clan-Ronald's men, joe. 
And cry our news ! our gallant news ! 

That carle disna ken, joe ; 
Our gallant news, of tartan trews, 
And Red Clan- Ronald's men, joe ! 


Oh ! cauld in the mools sleep the chiefs o' the 
Scotia's tint her Stuarts a' fairly ; [North, 

Though cauld i' the mools, and far frae the 
We maun think on Prince Charlie. [North, 
Oh ! cauld, &c. 

When we the tartan dearest see, 
A sigh unkent we'll breathe for thee, 
And dash the heart drap frae our e'e, 
And mourn for our Prince Charlie. 
Oh ! cauld, &c. 

When cares combine, and but a few 
Of sacred friends prove firm and true, 
Even then our hearts shall throb for you, 
Ye elect of Prince Charlie. 
Oh ! caidd, &c. 

The author of Clan-Ronald's Men doubtless wrote it to cloak the dis- 
grace of the Macdonalds, whose conduct at Culloden excited 
universal indignation among the Jacobites, and indeed amongst all 
rational men. 

* This pleasing morsel of Jacobitism is sung to the tune of Johnny 
Cope; but it seems ill adapted to that lively spirit-stirring air, 
the strain of sentiment it breathes being soft, plaintive, and sad. 


Though 'mid the Highland hills we roam, 
A wanderer poor, without a home, 
We'll draw our stool where'er we come, 
For they were kind to Charlie ! 
Oh ! cauld, &c. 

We'll pu' a posie ilka year, 
O' heather bloom, a symbol dear, 
And dew it wi' a silent tear, 
For thy ain sake, dear Charlie. 
Oh ! cauld, &c. 

Let other bards thy cause disown, 
We'll tune our moorland harps alone, 
And sit upon thy royal stone, 

And mourn for our Prince Charlie. 
Oh ! cauld, &c. 


There are twa bonny maidens, 
And three bonny maidens, 
Come over the Minch, 
And come over the main, 
Wi' the wind for their way, 
And the correi for their hame : 

* The Ettrick Shepherd, notwithstanding the childish simplicity 
or rather absurdity of this reputed translation from the Gaelic, says 
that there is no song or air he likes better. According to his account 
too, it was copied verbatim from the mouth of Mrs Betty Cameron 
of Lochaber, well known for her great store of Jacobite songs,, and 
her attachment to Prince Charles and the chiefs that suffered for 
him, of whom she never spoke without bursting out a-crying. The 
Shepherd, reasonably enough, supposes the translation to be Mrs 
Betty's own composition. 

c c 


Let us welcome them bravely 
Unto Skye again. 
Come along, come along, 
Wi' your boatie and your song, 
You twa bonny maidens, 
And three bonny maidens ; 
For the night it is dark, 
And the red-coat is gone, 
And you're bravely welcome 
To Skye again. 

There is Flora *, my honey, 
So dear and so bonny, 

* Miss Flora Macdonald has already been particularly noticed in a 
preceding note, but of a character so remarkable, there are few 
readers that would not wish to know all that can be told. We there- 
fore subjoin a few additional particulars respecting her personal his- 
tory, from Mr Chambers's amusing book on the events of 1745. 

Flora Macdonald was the daughter of Macdonald of Milton, in the 
Island of South Uist, and therefore a gentlewoman by birth. At 
the time she became an auxiliary in aiding Prince Charles to es- 
cape, she was in the prime of life, possessed of an attractive person, 
and endowed with the invaluable accomplishments of good sense, 
sprightliness, and humanity. Her father having died during her 
infancy, her mother was married to Macdonald of Armadale, in the 
Isle of Skye, who was at the head of one of the corps of militia then 
patroling South TJist. She was generally an inmate in the family of 
her brother, the proprietor of Milton; but at that time she resided, 
on a visit, at Ormailade, the house of Clanronald, to whose family 
she was nearly related. O'Neal, one of the Prince's followers, being 
employed to ask her services in his behalf, she desired to see his 
Royal Highness, and was accordingly brought to an interview with 
him. How promptly she embarked in his cause, and how faithfully 
she acquitted herself as a partizan, is known to all the world. 

In another note we have stated the particulars of her arrest and 
detention, upon a warrant from government, after the Prince had 
etfected his escape. To the surprise of every body at that period, no 
prosecution %vas attempted, though the fact of her being a principal 
accessory in aiding Charles's flight was never for a moment denied. 
The truth was, that the ministry of the day had already pushed mat- 
ters far enough, and public feeling was already sufficiently outraged 
by the bloody execution of the male prisoners, to permit them to 
think of persecuting a young and heroic female. But the tradition 
of Miss Macdonald's family, ascribes her liberation and exemption 


And one that is tall, 
And comely withal ; 
Put the one as my king, 
And the other as my queen, 
They're welcome unto 
The Isle of Skye again. 
Come along, come along, 
Wi' your boatie and your song, 

from punishment, to the interference of Frederick, Prince of Wales, 
father of his late Majesty, George III. His Royal Highness having 
heard so much of the " Pretender's deliverer," as she was called, 
had the curiosity to visit her while in custody. At this interview, 
among other questions which he put to her, he asked how she came 
to do a thing so contrary to the commands of her sovereign, and so 
inimical to the interests of her country ? to which she answered in a 
firm but modest style, that she conceived herself to have only obeyed 
the dictates of humanity in doing what she had done, and that if ever 
it were his Royal Highness's fate, or that of any of his family, to ap- 
ply to her under circumstances equally distressing with those of the 
Chevalier, she would, with God's blessing, act again precisely in the 
same manner. Frederick was so much pleased with this reply, that 
he exerted himself to get her liberated without delay. 

After she had been set at large, she was taken into the house of a 
distinguished female Jacobite named Lady Primrose, and there exhi- 
bited to all the friends of the good cause who could make interest to 
get admission. The presents which she got at this period were per- 
fectly overwhelming ; and the flattering attention which was paid to 
her, might have turned the heads of ninety out of a hundred such 
young ladies. Instances have been known, according to the report of 
her descendants, of eighteen carriages belonging to persons of quality, 
ranking up before the house in which she was spending the evening. 
Throughout the whole of these scenes, she conducted herself with 
admirable propriety, never failing to express surprise at the curiosity 
which had been excited regarding her conduct — conduct which, she 
used to say, never appeared extraordinary to herself, till she saw the 
notice taken of it by the rest of the world. 

After retiring to her native Island, which she did with a mind 
totally unaffected by her residence in London, she married Mr M'Do- 
nald of Kingsburgh, the son and successor of the venerable gentle- 
man to whose house she had accompanied Prince Charles, as related 
n a preceding note. When past the middle of life, she went with 
her husband to America, and met with many strange mischances in 
he course of the Colonial war. Before the conclusion of that unfor- 
unate contest, she returned with her family to Skye. It would ap- 
pear that, at this advanced period of her life, she retained all the he- 
oic courage which so remarkably distinguished her early years. It 
is told by her venerable daughter, Mrs Major Macleod, who accompa- 


You twa bonny maidens, 
And three bonny maidens ; 
For the lady of Macoulain 
She lieth her lane, 
And you're bravely welcome 
To Skye again. 

Her arm it is strong, 
And her petticoat is long, 
My one bonny maiden, 
And twa bonny maidens ; 
But their bed shall be clean, 
On the heather most crain ; 
And they're welcome unto 
The Isle of Skye again. 
Come along, come along, 
Wi' your boatie and your song, 
You one bonny maiden, 
And twa bonny maidens. 
By the sea-moullit's nest 
I will watch o'er the main ; 
And you're dearly welcome 
To Skye again. 

There's a wind on the tree, 
And a ship on the sea, 

r.ied her on the occasion, that, a French ship of -war having attacked 
them in their homeward voyage, and all the ladies being immured in 
the cabin, she alone could not be repressed, but came upon deck, 
and endeavoured, by her voice and example, to animate the men for 
tke action. She was unfortunately thrown down in the bustle, and 
broke her arm ; which caused her afterwards to observe, in some- 
thing like the spirit of poor Mercutio, that she had now risked her 
life in behalf of both the House of Stuart and that of Brunswick, and 
got very little for her pains. 

She lived to a good old age, continuing to the last a firm Jacobite. 
Such is said to have been the virulence of this spirit in her composi- 
tion, that she would have struck any man with her fist, who pre- 
sumed, in her hearing, to call Charles by his ordinary epithet, " the 


My twa bonny maidens, 
My three bonny maidens . 
On the lea of the rock 
Your craddle I shall rock ; 
And you're welcome unto 
The Isle of Skye again. 
Come along, come along, 
Wi' your boatie and your song, 
My twa bonny maidens, 
And three bonny maidens : 
More sound shall you sleep, 
When you rock on the deep ; 
And you'll aye be welcome 
To Skye again 




Should old gay mirth and cheerfulness 

Be dash'd for evermore, 
Since late success in wickedness 

Made Whigs insult and soar ? 
O no : their execrable pranks 

Oblige us to divine, 
We'll soon have ground of joy and thanks, 

As we had langsyne. 

* In the original manuscript of this Song, in the possession of Mr 
Hardie of Glasgow, it is said to have been written by " A Skulker in 
the year 1146 J" and if we compare its sentiments and allusions with 
the facts of that period, it is evidently a graphic transcript of the 
feelings of the beaten and unfortunate Jacobites. Under all their 
misfortunes they seem never to have lost hope ; and it is highly 
amusing to perceive how anxiously they looked forward to a day of 
retribution for their enemies the Whigs. These latter, it must be 


Though our dear native prince be toss'd 

From this oppressive land, 
And foreign tyrants rule the roast, 

With high and barbarous hand ; 
Yet he who did proud Pharaoh crush, 

To save old Jacob's line, 
Our Charles will visit in the bush, 

Like Moses langsyne. 

confessed, displayed in their triumph on many occasions, a degree 
of vindictive zeal that was not called for on the score of public policy ; 
and was but little creditable to private feeling. Among various 
isolated cases of individual malice and oppression, noticed by the 
writers of the time, a singular one is recorded by the Chevalier John- 
stone. While trying to elude pursuit, some time after the affair at 
Culloden, he had to pass through the moor of Glenilla, on his way 
to the village of Cortachie. " In travelling this route," says he, " I 
wished much to have fallen in with the minister of that parish, a 
sanguinary wretch, who made a practice of scouring the moor every 
day, with a pistol, concealed under his great coat, which he instantly 
presented to the breasts of any of our unfortunate gentlemen whom 
he fell in with, in order to take them prisoners, This iniquitous in- 
terpreter of the word of God considered it as a holy undertaking to 
bring his fellow creatures to the scaffold ; and he was the cause of 
the death of several persons whom he had thus taken by surprise. I 
had been cautioned to be upon my guard against his attacks, but I 
was not afraid of him, as I always had with me my English pistols, 
which were of excellent workmanship, loaded and primed, one in 
each breeches pocket. I desired, indeed, nothing so much as to 
fall in with him, for the good of my companions in misfortune,—. 
being confident that I should have given a good account of him in 
an engagement with pistols; for I have all my life remarked, that an 
unfeeling, barbarous and cruel man is never brave. But the punish- 
ment of this inhuman monster was reserved for my friend Mr Gordon 
of Abachie. When we separated, four days after our departure from 
Rothiemurchus, Abachie resolved to go to his own castle ; and the 
minister of Glenilla, having been informed of his return, put himself 
at the head of an armed body of his parishioners, true disciples of 
such a pastor, and proceeded with them to the castle of Abachie, in 
order to take Mr Gordon prisoner. The latter had only time to save 
himself, by jumping out of a window in his shirt. We seldom pardon 
any treacherous attempt upon our life. Accordingly Mr Gordon assem- 
bled a dozen of his vassals, some days afterwards, set out with them 
in the night, and contrived to obtain entrance into the house of this 
fanatical minister. Having found him in bed, they immediately 
performed that operation upon him, which Abelard underwent in 
days of yore, and carried off**** as trophies ; assuring him, at the 


Though God spares long the raging set 

Which on rebellion doat, 
Yet his perfection ne'er will let 

His justice be forgot. 
If we, with patient faith, our cause 

To 's providence resign, 
He'll sure restore our king and laws, 

As he did langsyne. 

Our valiant prince will shortly land, 

With twenty thousand stout, 
And these, join'd by each loyal clan, 

Shall kick the German out. 
Then upright men, whom rogues attaint, 

Shall bruik their own again, 
And we'll have a free Parliament, 

As we had langsyne. 

Rejoice then ye, with all your might, 

Who will for justice stand, 
And would give Caesar his true right, 

As Heaven gave command ; 
While terror must all those annoy 

Who horridly combine 
The vineyard's true heir to destroy, 

Like Judas langsyne. 

same time, that if he repeated his nightly excursions with his parish- 
ioners, they would pay him a second visit that should cost him his 
life. In this adventure his wife alone was to be pitied. As for him- 
self, his punishment was not near so tragical as the death on the 
scaffold, which he had in view for Mr Gordon of Abachie. Doubt- 
less this chastisement completely cured him of Jacobite hunting." 

The mean vindictive conduct of such men as the minister of Glen- 
illa threw great odium on the whigs, and it is not at all surprising 
that the wrath of the Jacobites is so frequently expressed against both 
them and their principles. In vituperating that party, the author of 
the above old song only echoes the sentiments of a thousand other 
productions of that day, all of which were provoked by similar pro- 


A health to those fam'd Gladsmuir gain'd, 

And circled Derby's cross ; 
Who won Falkirk, and boldly strain'd 

To win Culloden moss. 
Health to all those who'll do't again, 

And no just cause decline. 
May Charles soon vanquish, and James reign, 

As they did langsyne. 

here's his health in water.* 

Although his back be at the wa', 

Another was the fau'tor ; 
Although his back be at the wa', 

Yet here's his health in water. 
He gat the skaith, he gat the scorn, 

I lo'e him yet the better ; 
Though in the muir I hide forlorn, 

I'll drink his health in water. 
Although his back be at the wa', 

Yet here's his health in water. 

I'll maybe live to see the day 

That hunds shall get the halter, 
And drink his health in usquebae, 

As I do now in water. 
I yet may stand as I hae stood, 

Wi' him through rout and slaughter, 
And bathe my hands in scoundrel blood, 

As I do now in water. 
Although his back be at the wa', 

Yet here's his health in water. 

ceedings of individuals quite independent of the violence exhibited 
by Government. 

* This is an old and favourite song among the Jacobites, both for 



Ken ye wha supped Bessy's haggies? 
Ken ye wha dinner'd on our Bessy's haggies ? 
Four gude lords, and three bonny ladies, 
A' to dinner on our Bessy's haggies. 
Ae gude chief wi' his gear and his glaumrie, 
Lords on the bed, and dukes in the aumrie ; 
There was a king's son kiver'd o'er wi' raggies, 
A' for to dinner on our Bessy's haggies. 

The horn it is short, gudewife, can ye mend it ? 
'Tis nearer the lift, kind sir, gin ye kend it. 
In and out, out and in, hey for the baggies ! 
Fient a crumb is o' Bessy's haggies. 
Gudewife, gin ye laugh, ye may laugh right fairly; 
Gudewife, gin ye greet, ye may greet for Charlie; 
He'll lie nae mair 'mang your woods and your 

You'll ne'er mair see either him or your haggies. 

the sentiment and the air, which bears the same name. The writer's 
zeal, however, seems to have been greater than his discretion. 

* Mr Gordon, of Ford, communicated this Song to the Ettrick 
Shepherd, who gives it as an antique. The tune is older than the 
year 1T45 ; but the words evidently refer to that period. The senti- 
ment would hardly seem to be justified by facts, if an anecdote told 
of old Lady Drummuir be authentic. When the Duke of Cumberland 
took the command in Scotland and advanced against the Highland 
army, it was remarked that at Holyrood-House, Falkirk, and other 
places, he occupied the same quarters, the same room, and the same 
bed which Prince Charles had previously vacated. In like manner, 
when he entered Inverness, after the victory of Culloden, he took up 
his lodgings in the house of Lady Drummuir, whose daughter, Lady 
M'Intosh, had there acted as the presiding divinity of Charles' house- 
hold for two months before. How this venerable Jacobite entertained 
him is not recorded ; but the comment which she was accustomed to 
make on the singular circumstance of her having lodged both Princes, 
betokened no great relish for the familiar presence of royalty : " I've 
ha'en twa Kings' bairns," said she, " living wi' me, in my time ; but, 
to tell you the truth, 1 wish I may ne'er ka'e anitlier." 



Leeze me on him that can thole alteration, 
A' for his friends and the rights o' the nation ! 
Leeze me on his bare houghs, his broad sword, 

and plaidie ! 
He shall be king in the right o' his daddie. 
Foid fa' the feiroch that hings by his bonnet ! 
The rump-rotten rebald, rich ! fie upon it ! 
He may grunch in his swine-trough up to the 

Never to be blest wi' a gudewife's haggies. 


Up and rin awa, WilHe, 
Up and rin awa, Willie ; 
Culloden's laurels you have lost, 
Your puff 'd-up looks, and a', Willie. 
This check o' conscience for your sins, 

It stings you to the saul, Willie, 
And breaks your measures this campaign, 
As much as Lowendahl, Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

* The fate of the house of Stuart being sealed by the victory gained 
at Culloden, the Duke of Cumberland, after reducing the Highlands, 
embarked for Flanders, and about January, 1747, joined the Allied 
Powers in their war against France. The forces of the Confederates, 
amounting to 120,000 men, were allowed to lie inactive in their camps 
for six weeks, exposed to the inclemency of the weather, and almost 
destitute of forage and provisions, while the French, commanded by 
Mareshal Saxe, Counts Lowendahl and De Clermont, were comfortably 
lodged in cantonments at Bruges, Brussels, and Antwerp, — Mareshal 
Saxe declaring, " that when the Allied forces had been reduced by 
sickness and mortality, he would convince Cumberland that the first 
duty of a general was to provide for the health and preservation of 
his troops." 

On the 20th June, both armies took the field, when a most sangui- 
nary conflict took place at the village of Val, three miles west from 
Maestricht, which terminated in the defeat of Cumberland, and his 
retreat to the latter place, having sustained a lose of 6000 men, 16" 


Whene'er great Saxe your troops attack'd, 
About the village Val, Willie, 

To scour awa ye wasna slack, 
For fear you'd get a ball, Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

In just reward for their misdeeds, 
Your butchers gat a fa' Willie ; 

And a' that liv'd ran aff wi' speed 
To Maestricht's Strang wa', Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

Baith Scott and Lockhart's sent to hell, 
For to acquaint mamma, Willie, 

That shortly you'll be there yoursel, 
To roast ayont them a', Willie. 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

The Maese you cross'd just like a thief, 
To feed on turnips raw, Willie, 

In place of our good Highland beef, 
With which you gorg'd your maw, Willie, 
Up and rin awa, &c. 

To Hanover I pray begone, 

Your daddie's dirty sta', Willie, 
And look on that as your ain hame, 
And come na here at a', Willie. 
It's best to bide awa, Willie, 
It's best to bide awa, Willie, 
For our brave prince will soon be back, 
Your loggerhead to claw, Willie. 

pieces of oannon, &c. During the whole of this oampaign, Count 
Lowendahl was eminently successful in defeating the plans of Cumber- 
land ; and the French King, who \isited his army in person, the same 
year, was so pleased with the exertions of the Count, that he promoted 



Here's a health to the King whom the crown 

doth belong to ; 
Confusion to those who the right king would 

wrong so ; 
I do not here mention either old king or new 

king ; 
But here is a health, boys — a health to the true 


Here's a health to the clergy, true sons of the 

"W ho never left king, queen, nor prince in the 

lurch ; 
I do not here mention either old church or new 

church ; 
But here is a health, boys — a health to the true 


him to the rank of a Mareshal of France, and at the same time ap- 
pointed Mareshal Saxe governor of the conquered Netherlands. 

* The Jacobites, during many years after the insurrection of 1 745. 
were obliged to be exceedingly guarded in their expressions, for fear 
of exciting the jealousy or the resentment of Government. The Toast 
is a good specimen of the sort of equivoke to which they resorted in 
communicating their political sentiments. 

f It is the Episcopal Church that is here alluded to ; for the Duke of 
Cumberland, finding the clergy of that persuasion very generally iden- 
tified with the cause of the exiled family, caused every place of worship 
in which they officiated, to be shut up, immediately after the battle of 
Culloden. It was not long till even severer measures were resorted 
to against them. An Act was passed, which ordained that every Epis- 
copal clergyman, officiating without having taken the oaths of allegi- 
ance, abjuration, and assurance, or without praying once, during the 
performance of worship, for the King, his heirs and successors, and 
for all the Royal Family, should, for the first offence, suffer six months* 
imprisonment; for the second, be transported to the plantations for 
life, and, in case of returning from banishment, be subjected to perpe- 
tual imprisonment. Other conditions were required to constitute an 
Episcopal meeting a legal one ; and the Act further declared, that 
any person resorting to an illegal meeting-house of that persuasion, 
without giving notice of such meeting to a magistrate within five 



Thickest night o'erhangs my dwelling? 

Howling tempests o'er me rave ! 
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, 

Still surround my lonely cave ! 

Crystal streamlets gently flowing, 

Busy haunts of base mankind, 
Western breezes, softly blowing, 

Suit not my distracted mind. 

In the cause of right engaged, 

"Wrongs injurious to redress, 
Honour's war we strongly waged, 

But the heavens denied success. 

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us, 

Not a hope that dare attend ; 
The wide world is all before us, 

But a world without a friend. 

days, should suffer fine and imprisonment. In consequence of the 
extreme severity with which this statute was carried into effect, a 
vast portion of the Episcopalian clergy underwent a persecution not 
less severe than that which had been suffered by the Presbyterian 
Church in the reign of Charles II. They displayed, however, under 
its continued oppressions, a fortitude not less exemplary, and testified 
by the constancy of their attachment to the principles which they pro- 
fessed, that in the words of the above Song, " They never left King, 
Queen, nor Prince in the lurch." 

* This Song, and the air to which it is sung, owe their birth to the 
joint enthusiasm of Burns and Allan Masterton, schoolmaster in Edin- 
burgh. Both were keen Jacobites of the modern school ; and on this, 
as well as on some other occasions, they mutually agreed to dedicate 
their composition to that cause. The words were solely by Burns^* 
the air by Masterton ; to whose merit the former bears testimony, by 
asserting that he was the worthiest and best hearted man living. The 
subject of the Song is supposed to be James, Viscount Strathallan, 
whose father, Viscount William, was killed at Culloden. The son 
escaped to France. 



The storm is raging o'er the Kyle, 

And o'er thy glen, dark Auchnacary, 
Your Prince has travell'd many a mile, 

And knows not where to go or tarry, 
He sees, far in the vale below, 

The wounded soldier home returning ; 
And those who wrought this day of woe, 

Are round yon watchfire dimly burning. 

* This is a modern production, and ascribed to Mr Daniel Weir of 
Greenock. Independent of its poetical merit, it is accurately descrip- 
tive of the Prince's wretched condition, while at the fastness in the 
fir-wood of Auchnacary, where he was concealed a few days when 
proceeding to join his friend Lochiel in Badenoch, after eluding his 
pursuers in the islands. So beset with dangers was the route by which 
he had to travel to this meeting, and so intersected was the country 
at every point with military patroles, guarding the passes to pre- 
vent his escape, that the Highlanders themselves thought it would be 
next to a miracle if he should finally accomplish it. Mr Chambers' 
narrative of his wanderings pn this occasion rivals any thing in ro- 
mance. At one time, after being eight-and-forty hours without a 
morsel of food, he was obliged to throw himself upon the honour of a 
band of robbers, whose only refuge and shelter was a rocky cave upon 
the side of the hill of Corambian. These poor fellows, however, who 
only robbed from necessity, proved kind, humane, and honourable 
men ; for though they knew the Prince the moment he was intro- 
duced to them, and were aware of the immense price set upon his 
head, they faithfully kept his secret. One of them, whose name was 
Hugh Chisholm, and who came to Edinburgh a good many years 
afterwards, communicated to Mr Home, the author of Douglas, a few 
interesting particulars. He said that when Charles was brought to 
their cave by Macdonald of Glenaladale, he had upon his head a 
wretched yellow wig and a bonnet. His neck was cinctured with a 
dirty clouted handkerchief. His coat was of coarse dark-coloured 
cloth ; his vest of Stirling tartan, much worn. A belted plaid was his 
best garment. He had tartan hose, and Highland brogues tied with 
thongs, so much worn that they would scarcely stick upon his feet. 
His shirt, and he had not another, was of the colour of saffron. Al- 
together, his outward man betrayed the extremity of privation and 
distress. Although previously informed that it was young Clanro- 
nald who was to be introduced to them, they instantly recognised the 
Prince in spite of his disguise, and kneeled down involuntarily to do 
himhomage. After they had provided a repast for him, which his 
long fast made him devour almost voraciously, they set their wits to 
work to renew his wardrobe, and they were not slow in accomplish^ 


Scotland lang shall rue the day, 

She saw Culloden drench'd and gory ; 
The sword the bravest hearts may stay, 

But some will tell the mournful story. 
Amidst those hills that are mine ain, 

1 wander here a houseless stranger ; 
With nought to shield me from the rain, 

And every hour beset with danger. 

Howl on, ye winds, the hills are dark, 
There shrouded in a gloomy covering ; 

Then haste thee o'er the sea, my bark, 
For blood-hounds are around me hov'ring. 

irig even this object. Having learned that a detachment of the King's 
troops, commanded by Lord George Sackville, was ordered from Fort 
Augustus to Strathglass, and knowing that it must pass at no great 
distance from their habitation, th^y lay in wait for it at a part of the 
road suitable for their purpose. They first permitted the soldiers to 
pass and get out of sight, and then, attacking the servants with the 
baggage, they seized some portmanteaus, in which they found linens 
and every thing that the comfort of the Prince required. Charles 
remained with this predatory band about three weeks, during which 
they performed not only the duty of the most faithful body guards, 
but acted as scouts, spies, and couriers, as circumstances demanded. 
From Fort Augustus, with which they held regular communications, 
they brought all sorts of intelligence, collected among the inhabi- 
tants, and even occasionally procured the newspapers of the day for 
the Prince's perusal. The vigilance of the Government patroles, how- 
ever, continued to be incessant ; one of these men was therefore dis- 
patched to Lochaber to endeavour to discover Lochiel, and to inform 
him of Charles's situation. This he effected, and by means of Cameron 
of Clunes, who arranged a meeting with his Royal Highness, in a con- 
cealed hut at the head of Glencoich.they afterwards joinedLochiel and 
other friends in Badenoch, though not without running a thousand 
risques, and suffering incredible hardships. When the faithful robbers 
consigned the Prince to the guardianship of Clunes and his three sons, 
who accompanied him, Hugh Chisholm and the man who had gone as 
courier to Lochiel, were appointed to attend him for some time, 
till they should think him out of danger. The courier's name was 
Peter Grant. Chisholm is supposed to have been their chief. Ac- 
cording to Mr Chambers, this person while in Edinburgh, was visited 
by many persons from curiosity. Some of them gave him money, to 
mark their approval of his fortitude and honour, in resisting the vast 
allurement of £30,000 offered for the Prince's apprehension, dead or 
alive. Chisholm always refused his right hand to shake, agreeably to 


O Scotland, Scotland, fare thee well, 
Farewell ye hills, I dare not tarry ; 

Let hist'ry's page my sufPrings tell, 
Farewell Clanronald and Glengary. 


The wind comes frae the land I love, 

It moves the flood fu' rarely ; 
Look for the lily on the lea, 

And look for royal Charlie. 

Ten thousand swords shall leave their sheaths, 

And smite fu' sharp and sairly ; 
And Gordon's might, and Erskine's pride, 

Shall live and die wi' Charlie. 

the ordinary custom of salutation, assigning as a reason, that he had 
got a shake of the Prince's hand, on parting with him, and -was re- 
solved never to give that hand to any man till he should meet with the 
Prince again. 

* Perhaps nothing affords a more decided proof of the enthusiastic 
devotion of the Scotch Jacobites, than the frequency with which we 
find strong political sentiment put into the mouths of the ladies, by 
many of our song writers. But the propriety of the practice is com- 
pletely justified by the fact of such political feeling having actually 
prevailed still more strongly among the women than the men, in 
1745. It was remarked emphatically, by Lord President Forbes, 
that men's swords did less for the cause of Prince Charles than the 
tongues of his fair countrywomen. His Lordship was a shrewd man 
of the world ; and, as a zealous supporter of the existing Govern- 
ment, he justly feared the consequences of this petticoat influence 
more than all the other causes of excitement put together. In his 
official correspondence he repeatedly refers to it as a matter to be feared 
as well as regretted. It is difficult to account for the balance of zeal 
thus displayed by the female sex, unless we are to find a cause for it, 
in their having been less capable of appreciating the probable con- 
sequences. In their light and airy visions of futurity, nothing, of 
course, would arise but the splendour of returning royalty, and all 
the glittering advantages of Court honours and royal smiles. The 
men, on the other hand, had to calculate not only on success, but 
defeat. They might, no doubt, acquire promotion and fame, and 
wealth and honour ; but they had also to look to the chance of for- 


The sun shines out — wide smiles the sea, 

The lily blossoms rarely ; 
O yonder comes his gallant ship, 

Thrice welcome, royal Charlie ! 

" Yes, yon's a good and gallant ship, 

Wi' banners flaunting fairly ; 
But should it meet your darling Prince, 

'Twill feast the fish wi' Charlie." 

Wide rustled she with silks in state, 
And waved her white hand proudlie, 

And drew a bright sword from the sheath, 
And answered high and loudlie : — 

" I had three sons, and a good lord, 

Wha sold their lives fu' dearlie ; 
And wi' their dust I'd mingle mine, 

For love of gallant Charlie. 

It wad hae made a hale heart sair, 
To see our horsemen flying ; 
And my three bairns, and my good lord, 
Amang the dead and dying : 

" I snatched a banner — led them back— 
The white rose flourish'd rarely : 

The deed I did for royal James 
I'd do again for Charlie." 

feited lands, ruined families, and the fearful possibility of the hal- 
ter, the block, and the headsman's axe. As remarked by Allan 
Cunninghame, the ladies of 1745 resembled Mause Headrigg, crying 
out, " Testify with your hands as ive testify with our tongues, and they 
mill never be able to liarl the blessed youth into captivity." This song 
comes from the lips of one of those resolute heroines'.— probably of 
the family of Mar. 





A while forget the scene of woe, 
Forbid awhile the tear to flow, 

The pitying sigh to rise ; 
Turn from the axe the thoughts away,f 
'Tis Charles that bids us crown the day, 

And end the night in joys. 

So, when black clouds and beating rain, 
With storms the face of nature stain, 

And all in gloom appears ; 
If Phoebus deigns a short-lived smile, 
The face of Nature charms awhile, 

Awhile the prospect clears : 

* The original manuscript of this composition, which was only 
published a few years ago, remained for three- fourths of a century 
in the possession of a distinguished family in Sommersetshire, to 
whose Jacobite ancestor it had been presented by its author, the 
Rev. Dr Isaacs, of Exeter. The care with which it was thus pre- 
served as a literary relic, shews that the principles which it inculcates, 
and for which the west of England was notorious in 1715, were not 
by any means extinct there in 1745. 

f This allusion denotes that the scaffold had recently exhibited 
the last scene of the tragedy which followed the government victory 
at Culloden. The massacre and devastation perpetrated by the 
Duke of Comberland in the Highlands, was not deemed punishment 
enough for the vanquished Jacobites. It was thought necessary, 
also, to strike terror in the south as well as in the north ; and ac- 
cordingly, a long list of those who had been taken prisoners, or 
who had delivered themselves up, was made out for prosecution, 
under the statutes against High Treason. Several hundreds were 
arraigned at London, York, and Carlisle, and out of the numerous 
convictions obtained, about eighty suffered death by the hands of 
the executioner. All these unfortunate individuals are said to have 
met their fate with heroic fortitude and resolution ; and some of 
them even gloried in their political martyrdom in such a manner 
as to astonish the beholders. With one exception also they continued 
to the last to justify the cause which had brought them to the scaffold, 
praying for the exiled Royal Family, and particularly for Prince 
Charles, whom they represented as a pattern of excellency, and quali« 


Come then, and whilst we largely pour 
Libations to the genial hour, 

That gave our hero birth ; 
Let us invoke the tuneful Nine, 
To sing a theme, like them, divine, 

To sing his race on earth ! 

How in his tender infant years, 
The guardian hand of heaven appears 

To watch its chosen care; 
Estranged from ev'ry foe to truth, 
Virtuous affliction form'd his youth, 

Instructive though severe. 

fied to make the nation happy, should it ever have the good fortune 
to see him restored. 

Of all those who met death at this tragical period, the Lords Kil- 
marnock, Balmerino, and Lovat, necessarily excited most interest, as 
their trials were conducted with all the pride, pomp, and circumstance 
peculiar to the arraignment of Peers for the crime of High Treason. 
The Earl of Cromarty was tried at the same time, but his share in 
the insurrection having been less conspicuous, he received a pardon. 
Many exertions were made by the friends of the other noblemen, to 
obtain the same grace for them, but without effect. They according- 
ly prepared to meet their doom. — .The 18th of August being fixed for 
the execution of Kilmarnock and Balmerino, the sheriffs of London 
and Middlesex went in procession, and conducted them from the 
Tower to the scaffold. On arriving within the area which sur- 
rounded it, they were conducted into separate apartments in a house 
fitted up for their reception, where their friends were admitted to see 
them. The walls were hung with black, as well as the passage lead- 
ing to the scaffold, which was surrounded with soldiers six deep. 
Lord Kilmarnock's rank giving him precedence, even in this scene 
of death, he was led out first ; but, before leaving the room, he took 
a tender farewell of those who attended him. When he stepped 
upon the scaffold he seemed to feel all the horror of his situation ; 
for he muttered in the ear of one of the attendant clergymen, 
" Home, this is terrible !" His countenance also bore the stamp of 
deep melancholy, and conveyed to the spectators an impression of the 
mingled feelings of resignation and despair, which occupied him 
within. His palid complexion, and his care-worn, though still elegant 
form, excited a strong and sympathetic interest iu the unhappy noble- 
man's fate, and many individuals, even at a distance, involuntarily 
burst into tears. After having stripped off his upper clothes, and 
bared his neck, he gave a purse containing five guineas to the execu.- 


No sinful court its poison lent, 
An early bane his life to taint, 

And blast his young renown : 
His father's virtues fire his heart — 
His father's sufferings truth impart, 

To form him for a throne. 

How, at an age, when pleasure's charms 
Allure the stripling to her arms, 

He formed the great design, 
To assert his injured father's cause, 
Restore his suffering country's laws, 

And prove his right divine. 

tioner, and mentioned in what manner he would give the signal for 
the descent of the axe. He then went forward, and knelt upon a black 
sushion which was placed for the purpose before the block. It was 
found necessary, however, farther to adjust his garments, so as to 
prevent any impediment to the fatal stroke, and he again rose for 
that purpose. This being done, he knelt down again, and having 
uttered a silent but fervent prayer, as appeared from the motion of 
his hands, he gave the signal, and his head was instantly severed 
from his body. 

The under sheriff now went and intimated to the other noble vic- 
tim, that his time was also come, and accordingly, Balmerino imme- 
diately made his appearance on the fatal stage. Very different, 
however, was the impression made by his demeanour on the spec- 
tators. Kilmarnock, in his despondency had recanted his political 
principles, in the hope of pardon, and his dignity and fortitude 
seemed to have given way altogether under the dread of death. 
Balmerino, on the other hand, had from first to last adhered to his 
political creed. At the same time, he maintained throughout 
the utmost serenity of temper, and had even the philosophy or 
indifference to jest occasionally on the subject of his misfor- 
tunes. The firm step, therefore, with which he strode the scaf- 
fold, his undaunted look, and his bold bluff figure, but above 
all, his dress, which was the same regimental suit of blue turned up 
with red, which he had worn during the campaign, excited the admi- 
ration of the crowd, rather than their pity, and made them regard 
him almost as a being of a superior order. In undressing himself, 
and preparing for the stroke of the executioner, he exhibited as 
much coolness as if he had been only going to lie down to sleep. 
Having put on a flannel vest, which had been made on purpose, and 
a tartan cap, to denote that he died a true Scot, he stepped up to the 
block, which he called his pillow of rest, and kneeling down, went 


How, when on Scotia's beach he stood, 
The wondering throng around him crowd, 

To bend the obedient knee ; 
Then, thinking on their country chain'd, 
They wept at worth so long detain'd 

By Fate's severe decree. 

How, when he moved, in sweet amaze, 
All ranks in transport on him gaze, 

E'en grief forgets to pine ; 
The wisest sage, or chastest fair, 
Applaud his sense, or praise his air, 

Thus form'd with grace divine. 

through a sort of rehearsal of the fatal ceremony, for the instruction 
of the executioner ; shewing how he would give the signal for the 
blow, by dropping his arms. This being over, he returned to his 
friends, who were standing at another part of the scaffold, and hav- 
ing taken a tender farewell of them, he looked round upon the 
crowd, and said, " I am afraid there are some who may think my 
behaviour bold ; " but, continued he, addressing a gentleman near 
him, " remember, sir, what I tell you ; it arises from a confidence in 
God, and a clear conscience." At this moment, he observed the 
executioner standing with the axe, and going up to him, he took 
the fatal weapon into his own hand and felt its edge. On returning 
it, he showed the man where to strike his neck, and hoped that he 
would do it with resolution and vigour ; " for in that, my friend," 
added he, " will consist your mercy." With a placid or rather 
cheerful expression of countenance, he then knelt down at the 
block, and having uttered the following words • — " O Lord, reward 
my friends, forgive my enemies, bless the Prince and the Duke, and 
receive my soul ;' > he dropped his arms for the blow. Unfortunately 
the suddenness with which the signal was thus given, prevented the 
executioner from taking deliberate aim, and the axe, instead of going 
through the neck, hit its victim between the shoulders. The un- 
happy nobleman turned his head half round, and gnashed his teeth 
either with rage or pain, while his eyeballs glared dreadfully around. 
A second stroke, however, taken with surer aim, went through two. 
thirds of the neck, and death immediately followed, for the body fell 
away from the block. A third blow entirely severed the head, and 
the tragedy was completed. 

Old Lord Lovat having been reserved by Government as the last 
victim of political vengeance, his trial did not take place till some 
months after the execution of the other noblemen. It was expected 
that on account of his great age he would have been pardoned, or at 


How great in all the soldier's art, 
With judgment calm, with fire of heart, 

He bade the battle glow : 
Yet greater on the conquer'd plain, 
He felt each wounded captive's pain, 

More like a friend than foe. 

By good unmoved, in ills resign'd, 

No change of fortune changed his mind, 

Tenacious of its aim ; 
In vain the gales propitious blew, 
Affliction's dart as vainly flew, 

His mind was still the same. 

Check'd in his glory's full career, 
He felt no weak desponding fear, 

Amidst distresses great ; 
By every want and danger prest, 
No care perplex'd his manly breast, 

But for his country's fate. 

least respited, till a natural death had superseded the office of the 
executioner. But the men in power were too vindictive to admit the 
plea of gray hairs, or even infirmity of body, as an apology for treason 
on this occasion, and, accordingly, the aged Lord was consigned to the 
scaffold like the rest. When he mounted the steps he was so feeble 
as to require two persons to assist him up. But he exhibited the most 
philosophical indifference as to his fate. He felt the edge of the axe, 
and expressed himself satisfied with its sharpness. He then called the 
executioner, gave him ten guineas, and told him to do his duty with 
firmness and accuracy, adding that he would be very angry with him, 
if he should hack and mangle his shoulders. With cool deliberation 
he laid his head upon the block, which fortunately was severed at a 
single blow. The age and infirmities of this old chieftain alone ex- 
cited the sympathy of the spectators ; for he was generally known to 
be the most equivocal politician of his time. Indeed, his character 
during a long life had been marked by singular duplicity, and though 
he possessed considerable talents, they were never exerted in the pub- 
lie service, so as to atone for his utter destitution of moral worth. 
In politics he was, from his earliest years, a thorough bred disciple 
of Machiavel, and even on his trial he betrayed the same principles, for 
he exerted himself to baffle his enemies, with all the dissimulation 


For oh ! the woes by Britain felt, 
Had not atoned for Britain's guilt, 

So will'd offended heaven ; 
That yet awhile the usurping hand, 
With iron rod should rule the land, 

The rod for vengeance given. 

But in its vengeance heaven is just, 
And soon Britannia from the dust 

Shall rear her head again ; 
Soon shall give way the usurping chain, 
And peace and plenty once again 

Proclaim a Stuart's reign. 

What joys for happy Britain wait, 

When Charles shall ride the British State, 

Her sullied fame restore ; 
When in Ml tide of transport tost, 
E'en memory of her wrongs be lost, 

Nor Brunswick heard of more. 

The nations round with wondering eyes 
Shall see Britannia awful rise, 

As she was wont of yore. 
And when she holds the balanced scale, 
Oppression shall no more prevail, 

But fly her happy shore. 

and chicanery which had marked his conduct at other periods of his 
life. The speech which he made in his defence was specious in argu- 
ment, and eloquent in expression ; but he found it impossible to get 
over the evidence of his own letters, produced by Murray of Brough- 
ton, which had been written to the exiled family, and in particular to 
the young Chevalier, promising them his assistance, and negotiating 
at the same time the elevation of his family to a Dukedom. Though 
a double dealer selfish to the last, and notwithstanding he had studied 
through life to make every thing subservient to his own purposes, he 
vainly wished to have it believed that he died a patriot ; and, as if 
quite unconscious of the opinion which the world entertained of him, 


Corruption, vice, on every hand, 
No more shall lord it o'er the land, 

With their Protector fled : 
Old English virtues in their place, 
With all their hospitable race, 

Shall rear their decent head. 

In peaceful shades the happy swain, 
With open heart and honest strain, 

Shall hail his long-wish'd Lord, 
Nor find a tale so fit to move 
His listening fair one's heart to love, 

As that of Charles restored. 

Though distant, let the prospect charm, 
And every gallant bosom warm, 

Forbear each tear and sigh ! 
Turn from the one the thought away 
'Tis Charles that bids us crown the day, 

And end the night in joy. 


Come, listen to my mournful tale, 
Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear ; 

Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, 
Nor need you blush to shed a tear. 

•while he laid his head upon the block, he uttered Horace's celebrat. 
ed sentiment, "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori .'" 

* This ballad is commemorative of the melancholy and peculiarly 
hard fate of a youthful victim who was sacrificed to the harsh and 
unrelenting policy of the Government, at the period of its triumph 
in 1746. He was the son of a gentleman of Lancashire of the name 
of Dawson, and, while pursuing his studies at Cambridge, he heard 
the news of the insurrection in Scotland, and the progress of the 
insurgents. At that moment he had committed some youthful ex- 
cesses, which induced him to run away from his College, and either 


And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, 

Do thou a pensive ear incline : 
For thou canst weep at ev'ry woe, 

And pity ev'ry plaint — but mine. 

from caprice or enthusiasm, he proceeded to the north and joined 
the Prince's army, -which had just entered England. He was made an 
officer in Colonel Townly's Manchester regiment, and afterwards sur- 
rendered with it at Carlisle. Eighteen of that corps were the first 
victims selected for trial, and among these was young Dawson. 
They were all found guilty, and nine were ordered for immediate 
execution, as having been most actively and conspicuously guilty. 
Kennington Common was the place appointed for the last scene of 
their punishment, and, as the spectacle was to be attended with all 
the horrid barbarities inflicted by the British law of Treason, a 
vast mob from London and the surrounding country assembled to 
witness it. The prisoners beheld the gallows, the block, and the 
fire, into which their hearts were to be thrown, without any dis- 
may, and seemed to brave their fate on the scaffold with the same 
courage that had prompted them formerly to risque their lives in 
the field of battle. They also justified their principles to the last ; 
for, with the ropes about their necks, they delivered written declara- 
tions to the sheriff" that they died in a just cause, that they did not 
repent of what they had done, and that they doubted not but their 
deaths would be afterwards avenged. After being suspended for 
three minutes from the gallows, their bodies were stripped naked and 
cut down, in order to undergo the operation of beheading and em- 
bowelling. Colonel Townly was the first that was laid upon the 
block, but the executioner observing the body to retain some signs 
of life, he struck it violently on the breast, for the humane purpose 
of rendering it quite insensible to the remaining part of the punish- 
ment. This not having the desired effect, he cut the unfortunate 
gentleman's throat. The shocking ceremony of taking out the 
heart and throwing the bowels into the fire, was then gone through, 
after which the head was separated from the body with a cleaver, 
and both were put into a coffin. The rest of the bodies were thus 
treated in succession ; and on throwing the last heart into the fire, 
which was that of young Dawson, the_ executioner cried, " God 
save King George !>> and the spectators responded with a shout. Al- 
though the rabble had hooted the unhappy gentlemen on the passage 
to and from their trials, it was remarked that at the execution their 
fate excited considerable pity, mingled with admiration of their cou- 
rage. Two circumstances contributed to increase the public sym- 
pathy on this occasion, and caused it to be more generally expressed. 
The first was, the appearance at the place of execution of a 
youthful brother of one of the culprits of the name of Deacon, him- 
self a culprit, and under sentence of death for the same crime ; but 
who had been permitted to attend this last scene of his brother's life, 
in a coach along with a guard. The other was the fact of a young 

e e 


Young Dawson was a gallant boy, 
A brighter never trode the plain ; 

And well he lov'd one charming maid, 
And dearly was he lov'd again. 

One tender maid, she lov'd him dear, 
Of gentle blood the damsel came ; 

And faultless was her beauteous form, 
And spotless was her virgin fame. 

But curse on party's hateful strife, 
That led the favour'd Youth astray ; 

The day the rebel clans appear'd, — 
O had he never seen that day ! 

Their colours and their sash he wore, 
And in the fatal dress was found ; 

And now he must that death endure, 

Which gives the brave their keenest wound. 

and beautiful female, to whom Mr Dawson had been betrothed, 
actually attending to witness his execution, as commemorated in the 
ballad. This singular fact is narrated, as follows, in most of the 
Journals of that period : — I 

" A young lady, of a good family and handsome fortune, had for 
sometime extremely loved, and been equally beloved by Mr James 
Dawson, one of those unfortunate gentlemen who suffered at Ken- 
sington Common for high treason ; and had he been acquitted, or , 
after condemnation, found the royal mercy, the day of his enlargement 
was to have been that of their marriage. 

" Not all the persuasions of her kindred, could prevent her from 
going to the place of execution ; — she was determined to see the last 
of a person so dear to her ; and, accordingly, followed the sledges in 
a hackney-coach, accompanied by a gentleman nearly related to her, 
and one female friend. — She got near enough to see the tire kindled 
irhich was to consume that heart she knew was so much devoted to 
her, and all the other dreadful preparations for his fate, without being 
guilty of any of those extravagancies her friends had apprehended. 
But when all was over, and that she found he was no more, she drew 
her head back into the coach, and, crying out, My dear, I follow thee, 
-—I follow thee ; Sweet Jesus, receive both our souls together, fell on the 
neck of her companion, and expired in the very moment she was 


How pale was then his true-love's cheeks, 
When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear ! 

For never yet did Alpine snows, 
So pale, or yet so chill, appear. 

With falt'ring voice, she weeping said, 
" Oh, Dawson ! monarch of my heart, 

Think not thy death shall end our loves, 
For thou and I will never part. 

" Yet might sweet mercy find a place, 
And bring relief to Jemmy's woes ; 

O, George ! without a prayer for thee, 
My orisons would never close. 

" The gracious prince that gave him life, 
Would crown a never-dying flame ; 

And every tender babe I bore 

Should learn to lisp the giver's name. 

" But though he should be dragg'd in scorn 

To yonder ignominious tree, 
He shall not want one constant friend 

To share the cruel fates' decree." 

O, then her mourning coach was call'd ; 

The sledge mov'd slowly on before ; 
Though borne in a triumphal car, 

She had not lov'd her fav'rite more. 

She follow'd him, prepar'd to view 

The terrible behests of law ; 
And the last scene of Jemmy's woes 

With calm and steadfast eyes she saw. 

" That excess of grief, which the force of her resolution had kept 


Distorted was that blooming face 
Which she had fondly lov'd so long ; 

And stifled was that tuneful breath 
Which in her praise had sweetly sung. 

Ah ! sever'd was that beauteous neck, 
Round which her arms had fondly clos'd 

And mangled was that beauteous breast. 
On which her love-sick head repos'd. 

And ravish'd was that constant heart 

She did to ev'ry heart prefer ; 
For though it could its king forget, 

'Twas true and loyal still to her. 

Amid those unrelenting flames, 

She bore this constant heart to see ; 

But when 'twas moulder'd into dust, 
" Yet, yet," she cried, " I follow thee. 

" My death, my death alone can show 
The pure, the lasting love I bore ; 

Accept, O Heaven ! of woes like ours, 
And let us, let us weep no more." 

The dismal scene was o'er, and past, 
The lover's mournful hearse retir'd ; 

The maid drew back her languid head, 
And sighing forth his name — expir'd ! 

Though justice ever must prevail, 
The tear my Kitty sheds is due ; 

For seldom shall she hear a tale, 
So sad, so tender, yet so true. 

smothered within her breast, it is thought, put a stop to the ^ 
motion, and suffocated, at once, all the animal spirits." 



O wad ye ken whare she comes frae, 

Her hame was in the north, man, 
But och, wae's me, she was sae puir, 

She had to cross the Forth, man. 
She didna like their boats ava, 

She came by Stirling brig, man ; 
And now she's singing her ain sang, 

Amang the Lawland Whig, man. 

Although hersel be aidd and gray, 

She was a sodger ance, man, 
When Struan rais'd her clans sae bauld, 

For justice and her Prince, man. 
Hersel she had a gude claymore, 

She us'd it wi' gude will, man, — 
Some English lads could witness that, 

If they had liv'd to tell, man. 

Hersel she fought at Falkirk muir, 

She fought at Prestonpans, man, 
Where the English loons '11 ne'er forget 

Their meeting wi' the clans, man. 
O had the Lowlands join'd us then — 

Had they but been the thing, man, 
Hersel had been a Highland laird,, 

And Charlie been her king, man. 

* In this production, which is not without spirit and humour, the 
principal events of Prince Charles' expedition are characterised in a 
strain of genuine popular feeling, as well as expression. Its author, 
however, has adopted the vulgar Highland prejudice as to Lord George 
Murray's supposed treachery. The fourth stanza evidently refers to 
that now exploded notion. Lord George did all that a brave and 
skilful commander could, under the peculiar and unexpected circum- 
stances which occurred at the battle of Culloden. 


But ah, wae's roe ! the Highland sword, 

The Highland heart ahint it, 
Could na ward aff the traitor's blow, 

Our fate ye could na stint it : 
Selt by a loon we thought was true, 

By ane we thought our ain, man, 
Our country's freedom got a fa', 

Nae mair to rise again, man. 

Ochon ! ochon ! the fatal day, 

The day o' dark despair, man ; 
Aye when her ainsel thinks upon't, 

It maks her heart right sair, man i 
The flower o' a' the Highland clans— 

The like we'll never see, man — 
Lay streekit in their bluidie plaids, 

Cauld on Culloden lee, man. 

O, is there ane amang ye a', 

Ae lad o' Scottish name, man, 
Wha'll say 'twas wrang your fathers did, 

Or that they were to blame, man ; 
To fight for puif auld Scotland's rights, 

To bring her back her ain, man. 
O were the deed to do the day, 

She'd do it o'er again, man. 

But ah, wae's me ! the time is past, 

The day's for ever gane, man, 
And gane's the Prince she lo'ed sae weel— 

The chieftains match'd by nane, man. 
Yet o'er their graves she'll drap a tear, 

She caresna wha observe it, 
And wish they'd gat a better fate, 

For weel they did deserve it. 


Yet aye she has her country yet ; 

An inch she'll never yield o't ; 
And tho' her arm be auld and stiff, 

Her sword she weel can wield it : 
And should the French but e'er come here, 

O, gin she meet them fairly, 
She'll mak the rascals rue the day 

They cheated her puir Charlie. 


May morning had shed her streamers on high, 
O'er Canada, opening all pale on the sky ! 
Still dazzling and white was the robe that she 
wore, [shore. 

Except where the mountain wave lash'd on the 

Far heaved the young sun, like a lamp on the 
wave, [cave, 

And loud screamed the gull o'er his foam-beaten 

When an old lyart swain on a head-land stood 
high, [eye. 

With the staff in his hand, and the tear in his 

* The feelings of those exiles, who for years hopelessly lingered in 
foreign lands after 1746, are well pourtrayed in this poem. The 
severities of Government during the suppression of the insurrection, 
compelled vast numbers to seek for safety abroad. Those who escaped 
to France were chiefly of the better ranks, and they were consoled 
for the loss of their property and the ruin of their families, by escaping 
a tragical death on the scaffold, and by experiencing both the protec- 
tion and humanity of the French Government. A sum was set apart 
for their subsistence, and most of them received an annual pension 
out of it. To the eternal disgrace of the Dutch Government, however, 
it yielded to a requisition from the English resident in Holland, to 
deliver up twenty Scotsmen who had emigrated thither. One of 
them only was so unfortunate as to be arrested. The others fled, and 
escaped into other countries. Nothing proves so strongly the perse- 
vering vengeance of the British Cabinet against the unhappy fugitives 
as the fact that at the distance of thirteen years, the Chevalier John- 


His old tartan plaid, and his bonnet so blue, 
Declared from what country his lineage he drew; 
His visage so wan, and his accents so low, 
Announced the companion of sorrow and woe. 

" Ah, welcome thou sun, to thy canopy grand, 
And to me, for thou com'st from my dear native 

land ! 
Again dost thou leave that sweet isle of the sea, 
To beam on these winter-bound vallies and me ! 

" How sweet in my own native valley to roam, 
Each face was a friend's, and each house was a 

home ; 
To drag our live thousands from river or bay, 
Or chase the dun deer o'er the mountain so gray. 

" Now forced from my home and my blythe 

halls away, 
The son of the stranger has made them a prey ; 
My family and friends to extremity driven, 
Contending for life both with earth and with 


" My country," they said, — "but they told me a 
Her vallies were barren, inclement her sky; [lie, 
Even now in the glens, 'mong her mountains so 

The primrose and daisy are blooming in dew. 

" How could she expel from those mountains 

of heath, [death ! 

The clans who maintained them in danger and 

stone did not think himself safe in Canada, and had serious appre- 
hensions of being seized and sent home for trial. 


Who ever were ready the broad sword to draw, 
In defence of her honour, her freedom, and law. 

" We stood by our Stuart, till one fatal blow 
Loosed ruin triumphant, and valour laid low ; 
The lords whom we trusted, and lived but to 

Then turned us adrift to the storms and the seas. 

" O gratitude ! where didst thou linger the while? 
What region afar is illumed with thy smile ? 
That orb of the sky for a home will I crave, 
When yon sun rises red on the Emigrant's grave ! 


My Harry was a gallant gay, 

Fu' stately strade he o'er the plain 

But now he's banish'd far away, 

I'll never see him back again. 

O for him back again ! 

for him back again ! 

1 wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land 
For Highland Harry back again. 

When a' the lave gang to their bed, 
I wander dowie up the glen, 

And set me down and greet my fill 
For Highland Harry back again. 
O for him back again, &c. 

* The first tWree verses of this Song were altered by Burns from 
the olden original, which was always exceedingly popular, both on 
account of the air and the sentiment. The other two verses were 
afterwards added by Sutherland. 

F f 


O were some villains hangit high, 
And ilka body had their ain ; 

Then I wad see the joyfu' sight 
Of Highland Harry back again. 
O for him back again, &c. 

Sad was the day, and sad the hour, 
He left me in his native plain, 

And rush'd his injur'd prince to join ; 
But, oh ! he ne'er came back again ! 
O for him back again, &c. 

Strong was my Harry's arm in fight, 
Unmatch'd on a' Culloden plain ; 

But vengeance has put down the right, 
I'll never see him back again ! 
O for him back again, &c. 


My bonny moorhen, my bonny moorhen, 

Up in the gray hill, down in the glen ; 

It's when ye gang butt the house, when ye gang 

Aye drink a health to my bonny moorhen. 
My bonny moorhen's gane over the main, 
And it will be simmer ere she come again ; 
But when she comes back again, some folk 
Joy be wi' thee, my bonny moorhen ! [will ken : 

My bonny moorhen has feathers anew, 
She's a' fine colours, but nane o' them blue : 

* The enigmatical mode of expressing the sentiment in this Song 
denotes it to have reference to one or other of the periods of active 
rebellion, but whether in 1715, or 1745, is doubtful. The colours 


She's red, and she's white, and she's green, and 

she's gray ; 
My bonny moorhen, come hither away : 
Come up by Glenduich, and down by Glendee. 
And round by Kinclaven, and hither to me ; 
For Ronald and Donald are out on the fen, 
To break the wing o' my bonny moorhen. 


It was upon a day, and a bonny simmer day, 

When the flowers were blooming rarely, 
That there fell out a great dispute 

Between Argyle and Airly. 
Argyle has rais'd an hundred men, 

An hundred men and mairly ; 
And he's away down by the back o' Dunkel', 

To plunder the bonny house o' Airly. 

are supposed to allude to those in the tartans of the Clan Stuart. 
The original air bears the same name as the Song. 

* This Ballad, as well as another in Page 13 of the present volume, 
has, it would appear, been altered occasionally to suit the different 
epochs in the history of the Jacobite cause. According to the Ettrick 
Shepherd, both compositions are much older than the events of 1715 
or 1745. In a note to the other ballad, we have explained the his- 
torical fact in which it originated. Why either the one or the other 
have been referred to the era of 1745, may be owing to the cir- 
cumstance of the lady of young Ogilvie of Airly, a Johnstone of 
Westerhall, having accompanied him through most of the vicissitudes 
of Prince Charles's career ; marching with the Highland army into 
England, and remaining with it during the whole period of the retreat 
from Derby to Culloden. The love of this lady for her husband, and 
her attachment to the house of Stuart, are yet the theme of story and 
tradition in that part of the country where his property lay. The 
alleged burning of Airly in 1746, is said to be only a piece of gra- 
tuitous poetical mischief. The lady Ogilvie and her children of that 
day, did not suffer by fire, however hardly they may have been 
dealt with in other respects. Argyll's destruction of this Castle took 
place a century before, as explained in the previous note above re- 
ferred to. 


The lady look'd o'er her window, 

And O but she sigh'd sairly, 
When she espied the great Argyle, 

Come to plunder the bonny house o' Airly ! 
" Come down, come down now, Lady Ogilvie, 

Come down and kiss me fairly." 
" No, I winna kiss thee, fause Argyle, 

Tho' ye sudna leave a stannin' stane o' Airly." 

He took her by the middle sae sma,' 

" Lady, where is your dowry ?" 
" It's up and down by the bonny burn side, 

Amang the plantings o' Airly." 
They sought it up, they sought it down, 

They sought it late and early, 
And they fand it under the bonny palm tree 

That stands i' the bowling green o' Airly. 

" A favour I ask of thee, Argyle, 

If ye will grant it fairly ; 
O dinna turn me wi my face 

To see the destruction o' Airly." 
He has ta'en her by the shouther-blade, 

And thrust her down afore him, 
Syne set her on a bonny green bank, [Airly. 

Till he plunder'd and burn'd the house o' 

" Haste, bring to me a cup o' gude wine, 

As red as ony cherry : 
I'll tak the cup and sip it up ; 

Here's a health to bonny Prince Charlie ! 
O I hae born me eleven braw sons, 

The youngest ne'er saw his daddie ; 
And If I had to bear them again, 

They a' should gang awa wi' Charlie. 


« But if my gude Lord were here this night, 

As he's awa' wi' Charlie, 
The great Argyle and a' his men 

Durstna plunder the bonny house o' Airly. 
Were my gude Lord but here this day, 

As he's awa' wi' Charlie, 
The dearest blood o' a' thy kin 

Wad sloken the lowe o' Airly. 


There was an old woman that had a bee hive, 
And three master bees about it did strive ; 
And to each master bee she did give a name. 
It was for to conquer each other they came. 
With a fal de ral, &c. 

There was one they called Geordie, and one 
they called Fed,f |head ? 

The third they called Jamie ; pray who was the 
Jamie and Geordie together did strive 
Who should be the master bee of the bee hive. 
With a fal de ral, &c. 

Says Geordie to Jamie, " I'd have you forbear, 
From ent'ring my hive ; if you do, I declare, 
My bees in abundance about you shall fly, 
And if they do catch you, you surely shall die." 
With a fal de ral, &c. 

* The Bee Hive has little merit in point of composition, and still 
less as an allegory. It is only inserted here as a further specimen 
of the ways and means by which the Jacobite spirit was kept alive 
among the people. 

f Fed, the Jacobite abbreviation of the name of Frederick, Prince 
of Wales, son of George II. 


Says Jamie to Geordie, " 'Twas very well known, 
Before you came hither the hive was my own, 
And I will fight for it as lang's I can stand, 
For I've full forty thousand brave bees at 
With a fal de ral, &c. [command. 

" But you've clipped all their wings, and shorn 

all their backs : 
Their stings they hing down with a devilish relax; 
But the summer will come and restore the green 

Plain, [again." 

And something may hap that will rouse them 
With a fal de ral, &c. 

Then bee Geordie said, " Sir, I'd have you 


Abroad with your hive, for 'tis very well known, 

Yours is not true honey, nor gathered at noon, 

But sucked up abroad by the light of the moon." 

With a fal de ral, &c. 

"Thou vulgar marsh bee," then said Jamie again, 
" For the hive have my fathers long travelled* 

in pain ; [owns, 

And the whole world knows, and the old woman 
That mine is The Bee Hive, but thine are 

The Drones." 

With a fal de ral, &c. 


Scotland and England must be now 
United in a nation, 

* This is a bitter explosion of Jacobite fury, and was probably 
written immediately after the passing of the Act of Union. The 


And we must all perjure and vow, 

And take the abjuration. 
The Stuarts' ancient freeborn race, 

Now we must all give over ; 
And we must take into their place 

The bastards of Hanover. 

Curs'd be the Papists who withdrew 

The king to their persuasion : 
Curs'd be that covenanting crew, 

Who gave the first occasion. 
Curs'd be the wretch who seiz'd the throne, 

And marr'd our constitution ; 
And curs'd be they who helped on 

That wicked revolution. 

Curs'd be those traiterous traitors who, 

By their perfidious knavery^ 
Have brought our nation now into 

An everlasting slavery. 
Curs'd be the Parliament, that day, 

Who gave their confirmation ; 
And curs'd be every whining Whig, 

For they have damn'd the nation. 


Frae the friends and land I love, 
Driven by fortune's felly spite ; 

sentiments, however, were applicable to all the periods of insurrec- 
tion and excitement; of course, as a song, it was contantly in 
use and highly popular. The Union was a deadly blow to the cause 
of the Stuarts, and hence the soreness betrayed on account of that 
event by their followers. 

■ This and the Song immediately following are old compositions, 
but they were popular even till the extinction of the Stuart family. 


Frae my best belov'd I rove, 
Never mair to taste delight ; 

Never mair maun hope to find 
Ease frae toil, relief frae care. 

When remembrance racks the mind, 
Pleasure but unveils despair. 

Brightest climes shall mirk appear, 

Desert ilka blooming shore, 
Till the fates, nae mair severe, 

Friendship, love, and peace restore ; 
Till revenge, wi* laurell'd head, 

Bring our banish'd hame again, 
And ilka loyal bonny lad 

Cross the seas and win his ain. 


Here's a health to them that's away, 

Here's a health to them that's away, 
Here's a health to him that was here yestreen, 

But durstna bide till day. 

O wha winna drink it dry ? 

O wha winna drink it dry ? 
Wha winna drink to the lad that's gane, 

Is nane o' our company. 

The first is taten from Johnson's museum ; both the words and air 
are affectingly simple. The second was procured by the Ettrick Shep- 
herd, from a set of old manuscript songs belonging to the Honour- 
able Miss Rollo. 

* Allan Ramsay altered the original of this Fragment into a 
love song, for the sake of preserving the old chorus. He took the same 
liberty with many more of our Jacobite productions; but we 
must find an apology for the bad taste of such management in the 
peculiar circumstances of the times. To have published any of the 
Jacobite songs at that period, in their original state, would have been 
tantamount to putting his neck into a halter. 


Let him be swung on a tree, 

Let him be swung on a tree ; 
Wha winna drink to the lad that's gane, 

Can ne'er be the man for me. 

It's good to be merry and wise, 

It's good to be honest and true, 
It's good to be aff wi' the auld king, 

Afore we be on wi' the new. 


I hope there's no soul 

Met over this bowl, 
But means honest ends to pursue : 

With the voice and the heart 

Let us never depart 
From the faith of an honest true blue, true blue, 
From the faith of an honest true blue. 

For our country and friends, 

Let us damn private ends, 
And keep our old virtue in view ; 

Stand clear of the tribe 

That address with a bribe, 
For honesty's ever true blue, &c. 

Of the politic knave, 

"Who strives to enslave, 
Whose schemes the whok nation may rue ; 

Of pension and place, 

That curse and disgrace, 
Stand clear, and be ever true blue, &c. 

* Hogg is at a loss to determine whether this be a Jacobite or a 
Whig song. The chorus would denote it one of the latter, but the 
general strain of the sentiment and expression partakes more of the 


As with hound and with horn 

We rise in the morn, 
With vigour the chase to pursue ; 

Corruption's our cry, 

Which we'll hunt till we die ; 
'Tis worthy a British true blue, &c. 

Here's a health to all those 

Who slavery oppose, 
And wish our old rights to renew ; 

To each honest voice 

That concurs in the choice, 
And support of an honest true blue, true blue, 
And support of an honest true blue. 


O how shall I venture or dare to reveal, 
Too nice for expression, too good to conceal, 
The graces and virtues that illustriously shine 
In the Prince that's descended from Stuart's 
great line ? 

O could I extol as I love the great name, 
Or sound my low strain to my Prince's great 
In verses immortal his glory should live, [fame, 
And to ages unborn his merit survive. 

usual spirit of the Jacobite muse. All the Whig songs were wretched 
in point of taste. This composition is lively, poetical, and clever ; 
and whether Jacobite or Whig, it is entitled to a place in any collec- 

* The strain of this production denotes it to be one of the panegy- 
rical effusions which abounded when Prince Charles first arrived in 
Scotland. Its adulation is too fulsome for modern taste; but it 
affords evidence of the enthusiastic feeling and blind idolatry of Jaco* 
bite loyalty, in Hogg's Relics it is set to a fine air by Oswald, whose 


O thou great hero, true heir to the crown, 
The world in amazement admires thy renown : 
Thy princely deportment sets forth thy great 

In trophies more lasting than ages can raise. 

Thy valour in war, thy conduct in peace, [cease. 
Shall be sung and admir'd when division shall 
Thy foes in confusion shall yield to thy sway, 
And those that now rule shall be glad to obey. 

May the heavens protect him, and his person 
rescue [crew ; 

From the plots and the snares of the dangerous 

May they still crown his arms with triumph in 

And restore him again to the crown that's his 

Then George and his breed shall be banish'd 

our land, 
To his paltry Hanover and German command ; 
Then freedom and peace shall return to our shore, 
And Britons be bless'd with a Stuart once more. 

flora's lament.* 

Sweet is the rose that's budding on yon thorn, 
Down in yon valley sae cheery, 

compositions in that line the Shepherd asserts are far too little 

* All the song-writers who have associated the Prince and Flora 
Macdonald in their compositions, for the sake of effect, err mostegre- 
giously as to facts. This Song is as outrageously wrong in that respect 
as any of them; and the reader has only to recur to some of the 
previous notes in this volume, to discover the extreme license which 


But sweeter the flower that does my bosom adorn, 
And springs from the breast of my dearie. 

The lav'rock may whistle and sing o'er the lea, 
Wi' a' its sweet strains sae rarely ; 

But when will they bring such joys to me, 
As the voice of my ain handsome Charlie. 

The tears stole gently down frae my een, 

Nae danger on earth then could fear me ; 
My throbbing heart beat, and I heaved a sigh, 

When the lad that I loved was near me. 
Fu' trig wi' his bonnet, sae bonny and blue, 

And his tartan dress sae rarely ; 
A heart that was leal, and to me ever true, 

Was aye in the breast o' my Charlie. 

His long-quartered shoon, and his buckles sae 

On his shoulder was knotted his plaidie : 
Naething on earth was to me half sae dear, 

As the sight o' my ain Highland laddie. 
Red were his cheeks, and flaxen his hair, 

Hanging down on his shoulders sae rarely ; 
A blink o' his e'e, wi' a smile, banish'd care, 

Sae handsome and neat was my Charlie. 

My Charlie, ochon ! was the flow'r o' them a' ; 

For the loss of my mate I am eerie ; 
For when that the pibroch began for to blaw, 

'Twas then that I quite lost my dearie. 
O, wae's me, alas ! wi' their slaughter and war, 

'Twas then that he gaed awa' fairly; 
And broad is the sea that parts me afar 

Frae love and my ain handsome Charlie. 

the author has here assumed. Flora's Lament, we believe, is modern, 
and obviously not in the very best taste. 


Ance my saft hours wi' pleasure were blest, 

But now they are dull and eerie ; 
And when on slumber's soft pillow I rest, 

I behold the sweet shade o' my dearie. 
But as long as I live, and as long as I breathe, 

I will sing o' his memory dearly, 
Till love is united in the cold arms of death, 

Poor Flora shall mourn for her Charlie. 


My laddie can fight, my laddie can sing, 

He's fierce as the north wind, and soft as the 

His soul was design'd for no less than a king, 

Such greatness shines in my dear laddie. 
With soft down of thistles I'll make him a bed, 
With lilies and roses I'll pillow his head, 
And with my tun'd harp I will gently lead 

To sweet and soft slumbers my laddie. 

Let thunderbolts rattle on mountains of snow, 
And hurricanes over cold Caucasus blow ; 
Let care be confin'd to the regions below, 

Since I have got home my dear laddie. 
Let Sol curb his coursers, and stretch out the 

That time may not hinder carousing and play ; 
And whilst we are hearty be every thing gay 

Upon the birth-day of my laddie. 

* This appears to have been a birth-day song, in honour of Prince 
Charles, and would seem to have been written about the time of his 
arrival in Scotland. Both the sentiment and the expression are 
poetical, and in its general strain it rises above the common run of 
those merely loyal effusions which the Jacobitemuse of that particular 
period so profusely and zealously discharged. Hogg says he got it 


He from the fair forest has driven the deer, 
And broke the curs'd antler the creature did 

That tore up the bonniest flowers of the year, 

That bloom'd on the hills of my laddie. 
Unlock all my cellars, and deal out my wine, 
Let brave Britons toast it till their noses shine, 
And a curse on each face that would seem to 

To drink a good health to my laddie. 


When royal Charles, by Heaven's command, 
Arriv'd in Scotland's noble plain, 
Arriv'd in Scotland's noble plain, 

Thus spoke the warrior, the warrior of the land, 
And guardian angels sung the strain : 

Go on, brave youth, go combat and succeed, 

For thou shalt conquer — 'tis decreed. 

out of Mr Scott's manuscript collection, and afterwards collated it 
with another copy which he found in young Dalguise's collection. 

* Notwithstanding the disastrous termination of Prince Charles* 
expedition in 1746, the Jacobite muse despaired not of the cause of 
his family, nor ceased to hope, as expressed in this effusion of loyalty 
and zeal, that the time was not far distant, when he should once 

" Return triumphant o'er his foes, 
And ruling Britain, end their woes." 

The reception which Charles met with at the Court of France 
after effecting his escape, and the liberality of the French govern, 
ment in protecting the exiles who followed in his train, afforded, 
among other circumstances, a strong ground for indulging in such 
hopes. No sooner was it understood at Versailles that His Royal 
Highness had landed at a French port, than the Castle of St. Anthoine 
was prepared for his reception ; and a cavalcade of young noble- 
men was appointed to meet and congratulate him on his safe return. 
The fame of his exploits in Scotland had already preceded him, and 
on the Court as well as on the French people, had made such an 
impression as rendered him every where an object of interest and 


At Falkirk's fam'd victorious field, 
Where Hawley, proud, was forc'd to yield, 
Where Hawley, proud, was forc'd to yield, 

curiosity. When he arrived at Versailles, the King was attending 
a Council of his Ministers, but his Majesty instantly rose and went 
out to welcome him. " My dearest Prince," said he, tenderly em- 
bracing him, " I thank Heaven for thus seeing you returned in safety, 
after so many fatigues and dangers ; you have proved yourself pos- 
sessed of all the qualities of the heroes and philosophers of antiquity, 
and I hope you will one day receive the reward of such extraordinary 
merit." After spending some time in further conversation with the 
King, Charles passed to the apartment of the Queen, who received 
him with the same demonstrations of respect and affection. And 
when he was about to withdraw from the palace, the whole court 
crowded around him to express their admiration of his heroic enter- 
prise, and the satisfaction with which they saw him once more in 
France. Every where did he receive similar testimonies of con- 
gratulation and esteem, and this gallant nation, so prone to admire 
whatever is great, enterprising, and heroic in the actions of men , 
almost beheld realised in the person of Charles, the beau ideal of Chi- 
valry, a real preux Chevalier, who in their enthusiasm they likened 
to their own celebrated Bayard, sans peur et sans reproche. 

In addition to the personal regard thus testified for Prince Charles 
by Louis XV. and his people, it was officially stated, that a new ex- 
pedition would soon be fitted out, and composed of such an effective 
force as would enable him to overcome all opposition. Accordingly 
several regiments of the exiled cavaliers were embodied immediately, 
at the head of which were placed Lochiel, Lord Ogilvie, and some 
others who had distinguished themselves in the late insurrection. 
These levies were posted at Dieppe, Boulogne, and Calais, and they 
served for a while as demonstrations of a serious intention to effect 
another invasion. Subsequent events, however, demonstrate that the 
French Court were never serious in this intention ; and finally, the 
Prince and his partizans found that they and their cause were but as 
dust in the balance, when weighed against the policy which dic- 
tated that both should be sacrificed to the political interests of 
France. In 1148, negotiations for peace, which had been entered 
into with the British government a year before, were brought to a 
close, and the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was soon after made public. 
According to one of its provisions, France not only acknowledged 
the right of the House of Hanover to the Crown of England, but 
agreed that, in terms of a treaty entered into in 1718, she should 
utterly renounce all alliance with the Pretender and his family, and 
cease to permit them to reside within her territory. Thus at one 
and the same time, did the Scottish Jacobites discover the hollow 
and deceitful character of the promised assistance of the French 
king, and the hopes of the unfortunate Charles Edward were ex- 
tinguished for ever. 

Notwithstanding the express stipulation in this treaty, that the 


Let the applauding, the applauding world be 

How well brave Charles's heroes fought : 
Ah,still brave youth, thou'lt combat and succeed, 
Yes, thou shalt conquer — 'tis decreed. 

Stuarts should be deprived of the rights of hospitality in France, 
Prince Charles lingered in that country for a considerable time, 
vainly imagining, that national policy would yield to the point of 
honour in the breast of the French king, who had pledged himself to 
see the Stuart family restored. At length the ministry gave Charles 
unequivocal proofs of their determination to fulfil this condition of 
the treaty ; and it was plainly intimated to him, that if he did not 
withdraw himself from France, he would be conveyed out of it by 
force. Charles only replied, that all he wanted was, " that the king 
should keep his word ; " and he continued to go about Paris, attend- 
ing the opera and all public places as usual. A petty official warfare 
ensued in messages and counter-messages, which, however ridiculous 
in itself, excited a great sensation in the frivolous Court of Lewis XV. 
For a person in Charles's circumstances to attempt to thwart the 
government of the Grand Monarque, was in those days deemed a very 
extraordinary instance of daring, and caused him accordingly to be- 
come, as it were, an object of national interest. Previously the peo- 
ple had looked upon him as a being of superior order, in consequence 
of the wild and romantic character of his Scottish expedition ; but 
now their admiration was still more increased, because they considered 
him a martyr to political expediency, and suffering under unmerited 
misfortunes. Whenever, therefore, he appeared in public, the people 
crowded after him ; and when he entered the theatres or other places 
of amusement, he became the sole object of interest and attention. 
" On such occasions," says a contemporary, ' ' he himself seemed the 
only person indifferent to his fate. He talked with good humour 
and gaiety upon every other topic of the day, to the young noblemen 
who surrounded him, but no one could speak to him without mingled 
emotions of admiration and regret, and few beheld him without 
teats." This state of things, however, could not be permitted to last, 
if the ministry meant to preserve the faith of a public treaty. Be- 
sides, it was soon perceptible that the public feeling so strongly 
excited in Charles's favour, was by no means agreeable to the 
French king. And, to add to the embarrassment, the Earl of 
Sussex and Lord Cathcart, then residing in Paris, as hostages 
to guarantee fulfilment of certain parts of the late treaty, com- 
plained bitterly of the marked respect everywhere shown to the 
public enemy of their country, while they were treated with ill 
suppressed contempt or dislike. Louis, therefore, addressed a letter 
to Charles's father at Rome, demanding that he should be withdrawn 
by parental authority from the French territory, otherwise active 
measures would be resorted to, in order to compel his departure. 
The old Chevalier instantly obeyed this mandate, and by letter com- 


Though thou art banish'd for a while, 
Yet fortune still on thee shall smile, 
Yet fortune still on thee shall smile ; 

Thou shalt return triumphant o'er thy foes, 

And, ruling Britain, end our woes. 

Usurper then begone, begone with all thy race, 

And to our rightful Prince give place. 

mantled the Prince to fulfil the king's wishes. Charles, however, 
though said to have always entertained the utmost respect for his 
father, in this case remained inflexible, and held out obstinately 
against his commands. He stated that he still looked to the honour of 
Louis for afulfilment of all his engagements, and declared in the most 
peremptory manner, that no pensions, promises, or advantages what- 
ever, should induce him to renounce his just rights ; but, on the 
contrary, that he was resolved to consecrate the last moment of his 
life to their recovery. The French ministers in this dilemma, advised 
their monarch to call a Council of State, which was accordingly held, 
and there it was at last determined to end the difficulty by send- 
ing the Prince out of the kingdom by force. Louis, it would appear, 
only yielded to this measure from a conviction of its political neces- 
sity, for he was known to entertain a warm affection for his unfortu- 
nate guest; and when the order of arrest was presented to him for 
signature, he exclaimed, with unaffected regret, "Ah,pauvre Prince ! 
qu'il est difficile pour un roi d?etre un veritable ami!" The order was 
immediately put in execution, and Charles was conducted to the Castle 
of Vincennes, where, in a small apartment, attended only by one real 
friend, the faithful Neil MacEachan, who, with Flora Macdonald, 
had accompanied him in his journey through Skye, he was left to 
ruminate on his wayward fortunes. The unhappy Prince had borne 
himself with dignity and composureat the moment of his being taken 
into custody ; and while the military escort was conveying him to Vin- 
cennes, he spoke in a haughty tone, as if to prove that he scorned the 
treatment he experienced ; but according to MacEachan's report, no 
sooner had the officers retired, than he clasped his hands together, 
and burst into tears, exclaiming, "Ah, my faithful Highlanders ! you 
would never have treated me thus — would I were still among you !'• 
The rest of Charles Edward's story may be stated in a few words. 
He was, soon after this, sent out of the French dominions, which he 
never again entered. His residence, during the remainder of his life 
was chiefly at Avignon, acity of Provence, but belonging to the Po^e. 
There he lived a life of retirement, though not of peace, for disap- 
pointment and sorrow preyed upon his mind, and wrought such a 
change upon his temper and disposition, that the noble qualities for 
which he got so much credit in his youth, entirely disappeared. In 
short, the heroic and generous Prince of 1745, in his latter years be- 
came a slave to vulgar sensuality, and acted the part of a brutal ty- 
rant towards an amiable wife ; thus leaving to the friends of his house 

G s 



Tho' rugged and rough be the land of my birth, 
To the eye of my heart 'tis the Eden of earth. 
Far, far have I sought, but no land could I see, 
Half so fair as the land of my fathers to me. 

And what though the days of her greatness be 
o'er, [no more, 

Though her nobles be few, though her kings are 

Not a hope from her thraldom that time may 
deliver, [ever ! 

Though the sun of her glory hath left her for 

Dark, dark are the shades that encompass her 
round, [found, 

But still 'mid those glooms may a radiance be 

As the flush through the clouds of the evening 
is seen, 

To tell what the blaze of the noontide hath been. 

the task of framing an apology for qualities so little worthy of the 
blood and tears which its cause had cost a heroic people — and to its 
enemies the power of exulting, with apparent justice, in the downfall 
and final extinction of his race. 

* With all the enthusiasm of a poet, and in a strain of indignant 
nationality, the author of this beautiful Song enters into the 
feeling of dislike, hatred, and prejudice with which the Union with 
England was so long and almost universally considered in Scotland. 
Even after the lapse of half a century, the minds of the Scottish 
people were by no means reconciled to that measure; and many 
intelligent, well educated men, were known to have favoured the 
insurrection in 1745, less from attachment to the family of the 
Stuarts, than from a hope that their restoration would lead to a 
repeal of what was called the detested Union; a measure in which 
they saw nothing but degradation and ruin — the decay of the nobles 
—the beggary of the people, — with the utter extinction of their 
country's name and rank as a nation. How much these well mean- 
ing but mistaken patriots deceived themselves, was signally verified 
in the course of another half century ; and never, perhaps, since the 
beginning of time, were the actual political results so opposite to 
those which had been thus anticipated. Instead of the decay and 


With a pToud swelling heart I will dwell on 

her story, 
I will tell to my children the tale of her glory ; 
When nations contended her friendship to know, 
When tyrants were trembling to find her their 


Let him hear of that story, and where is the Scot, 
Whose heart will not swell when he thinks of 
her lot ; [that are o'er, 

Swell with pride for her power, in the times 
And with grief that the days of her might are 

Unmanned be his heart, and be speechless his 
tongue, [she sung ; 

Who forgets how she fought, who forgets how 

Ere her blood through black treason was swell- 
ing her rills, [hills ! 

Ere the voice of the stranger was heard on her 

How base his ambition, how poor is his pride, 
Who would lay the high name of a Scotsman 

aside ; [fear, 

Would whisper his country with shame and with 
Lest the Southrons should hear it, and taunt as 

they hear. 

ruin so fearfully prognosticated, Scotland saw trade and commerce 
revive, manufactures increase and flourish, wealth and population 
extend, the luxuries as well as comforts of life abound ; and, to crown 
all, she discovered that while she thus grew in all -the essentials of 
prosperity, there was in reality no diminution of political fame. Her 
sons filled more than a due share of all the offices of Government, 
and whether in the cabinet or in the field, they continued to sustain 
the honour and perpetuate the renown of their country. In process 
of time she saw one of the humblest of her nobles rise to guide even 
the helm of the state ; while others carried the fame of the na- 
tional arms to the uttermost corners of the earth. 


Go tell them, thou fool, that the time erst hath 
been, [were but seen ; 

When the Southrons would blench if a Scot 
When to keep and to castle in terror they fled, 
As the loud border echoes resounded his tread. 

Shall thy name, O my country ! no longer be 
heard ; [bard ; 

Once the boast of the hero, the theme of the 
Alas ! how the days of thy greatness are gone, 
For the name of proud England is echoed alone ! 

What a pang to my heart, how my soul is on 

To hear that vain rival in arrogance claim, 
As the meed of their own, what thy children 

hath won, [glish have done. 

And their deeds pass for deeds which the En- 
Accursed be the lips that would sweep from 

the earth, 
The land of my fathers, the land of my birth ; 
No more 'mid the nations her place to be seen, 
Nor her name left to tell where her glory had 


I sooner would see thee, my dear native land, 
As barren, as bare as the rocks on thy strand, 
Than the wealth of the world that thy children 
should boast, [lost. 

And the heart-thrilling name of old Scotia be 

O Scotia ! my country, dear land of my birth, 
Thou home of my fathers, thou Eden of earth, 
Through the world have I sought, but no land 
could I see, [to me ! 

Half so fair as thy heaths and thy mountain s 



Hame, hame, hame, Hame fain wad I be, 
O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie ! 
There's an eye that ever weeps, and a fair face 

will be fain, [nie bands again. 

As I pass through Annan Water with my bon- 
When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf upon 

the tree, [trie ; 

The lark shall sing me hame in my ain coun- 

Hame, hame, hame, Hame fain wad I be, 
O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie ! 
The green leaf o' loyalty's beginning for to fa', 
The bonny white rose it is withering an' a' ; 
But I'll water't wi' the blude of usurping ty- 

An' green it will grow in my ain countrie. 

Hame, hame, hame, Hame fain wad I be, 
O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie ! [save, 
There's nought now frae ruin my countrie can 
But the keys of kind heaven to open the grave, 
That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie, 
May rise again and fight for their ain countrie. 

Hame, hame, hame, Hame fain wad I be, 
O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie ! 
The great now are gane, a' who ventured to save, 
The new grass is growing aboon their bloody 
grave ; [my e'e — 

But the sun through the mirk, blinks blythe in 
" I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countrie." 

* This Song is finely descriptive of the feelings of a Scotch Jacobite 
exile. The reader may remember to have seen it noticed in the 
introduction to the " Fortunes of Nigel." Hogg ascribes it, and we 
believe, with justice, to the muse of Allan Cunningham. 



Hersel pe Highland shentleman, 

Pe aiild as Pothwell Prig, man ; 
And mony alterations seen, 

Amang the Lawland Whig, man. 
First when her to te Lawlands came, 

Nainsell was droving cows, man, 
There was nae law upon hims nerse, 

About the preeks or trews, man. 

Nainsell did wear the philabeg, 

The plaid pricked on her shouder; 
De gude claymore hung py her pelt, 

Her pistol charged with powder. 
But curse upon these Saxon preeks, 

In which her limbs are lockit ; 
Ohon that ere she saw the day ! 

For a' her houghs pe prokit. 

Every thing in the Highlands now 

Pe turned to alteration ; 
Te sodger dwell at our door cheek, 

And tat's a great vexation. 
Scotland pe turned a Hingland now, 

The laws pring in de cadger : 
Nainsell wad dui*k him for his deeds, 

But oh, she fears te sodger. 

* This can hardly be called a purely Jacobite song ; it is rather a 
jeu d'esprit levelled at the peculiar restraints imposed on the Highr 
landers, after the insurrection in H45- " Her nainsell" doubtless 
thought it a horrible imposition to pay toll at the turnpike gates 
** for nought but gaun upon te crund;" and he must have viewed 
with unmeasured wrath the ludicrous but insulting Act of Parliament 
which prohibited the kilt, and imprisoned him in breeches. The style 
in which the Highlander speaks in this song is irresistibly comical, 


Anither law came after tat, 

Me never saw te like, man, 
They make a lang road on te crund, 

And ca' him turnimspike, man ■. 
And now she pe a ponny road, 

Like Loudon corn riggs, man ; 
Where twa carts may gang on her, 

And no preak ither's legs, man. 

They charge a penny for ilka horse, 

In troth she'll no be sheaper, 
For nought but gaun upon te crund, 

And they gi'e me a paper. 
They take the horse then py te head, 

And there they make him stand, man ; 
She tells them she had seen the day 

They had nae sic command, man. 

Nae doubt nainsell maun draw her purse, 

And pay him what him like, man : 
She'll see a shudgement on his door, 

That filthy turnimspike, man. 
But I'll away to te Highland hills, 

Where deil a ane dare turn her, 
And no come near the turnimspike, 

Unless it be to purn her. 

ESTATES, 1784.* 

As o'er the Highland hills I hied, 
The Camerons in array I spied, 
Lochiel's proud standard waving wide, 
In all its ancient glory. 

* It was only at the distance of forty years from ths last effort made 


The martial pipe loud pierc'd the sky, 
The song arose, resounding high 
Their valour, faith, and loyalty, 
That shine in Scottish story. 

No more the trumpet calls to arms, 
Awaking battle's fierce alarms, 
But every hero's bosom warms 

With songs of exultation ; 
While brave Lochiel at length regains, 
Through toils of war, his native plains, 
And, won by glorious wounds, attains 

His high paternal station. 

Let now the voice of joy prevail, 
And echo wide from hill to vale : 
Ye warlike clans, arise, and hail 

Your laurell'd chiefs returning. 
O'er every mountain, every isle, 
Let peace in all her lustre smile, 
And discord ne'er her day defile 

With sullen shades of mourning. 

by the House of Stuart, to recover its lost inheritance, that the Go- 
vernment of Britain thought it expedient to relent with regard to 
those individuals who had then fatally risqued every thing that was 
dear to them, in behalf of unfortunate royalty. Few of the original 
exiles survived, but their children and descendants still lingered 
abroad ; and as the Highlanders at home had, generally speaking, 
atoned for past transgressions, by a long course of quiet and steady- 
obedience to laws which were even subversive of their national habits 
and prejudices, such as those which abolished the Highland dress, and 
prohibited the use of arms, it was at length deemed politic as well as 
just, to testify the sense entertained of their now peaceable demeanour 
by passing an Act of grace restoring the exiled families to the homes 
of their forefathers. This well judged clemency was not lost upon 
the Scottish people. Though meant only to conciliate the High- 
landers, it was deemed a compliment to the whole nation ; and 
perhaps, no measure since the Union did more to abate ancient pre- 
judices, reconcile hostile parties, and attach the people in general to 
the reigning dynasty. From that day forward the political distinc- 
tion of Jacobite, may be said to have existed only in name, till it 


Macleod, Macdonald, join the strain; 
Macpherson, Fraser, and Maclean; 
Through all your bounds let gladness reign, 

Both prince and patriot praising ; 
"Whose generous bounty richly pours 
The streams of plenty round your shores, 
To Scotia's hills their pride restores, 

Her faded honours raising. 

Let all the joyous banquet share, 
Nor e'er let Gothic grandeur dare, 
With scowling brow, to overbear, 

A vassal's rights invading. 
Let Freedom's conscious sons disdain 
To crowd his fawning timid train, 
Nor even own his haughty reign, 

Their dignity degrading. 

Ye northern chiefs, whose rage unbroke, 
Has still repell'd the tyrant's shock ; 
Who ne'er have bow'd beneath her yoke 

With servile, base prostration ; 
Let each now train his trusty band 
'Gainst foreign foes alone to stand, 
With undivided heart and hand, 

For freedom, king, and nation. 

finally expired in the total extinction of the family for whose interest 
it had been so long and faithfully perpetuated. With this change 
of policy in Government, we find that the muse also changed her 
tone. A lingering spirit of regret for the past still remained ; but as 
acquiescence in the irremediable behests of fate succeeded to the Tain 
hopes which were wont to be indulged for their favourite Prince's 
return ; and instead of the narrow patriotism which burned but for 
a particular family, we find there was engendered the genuine amor 
pat\-Ue, and a warm expansive passion for the general weal. 



What's the spring-breathing j ess'mine and rose ; 

What's the summer with all its gay train ; 
Or the plenty of autumn to those 

Who've barter'd their freedom for gain ? 
Let the love of our king's sacred right, 
To the love of our country succeed ; 
Let friendship and honour unite, 

And flourish on both sides of the Tweed. 

No sweetness the senses can cheer, 
Which corruption and bribery blind ; 

No brightness that gloom e'er can clear, 
For honour's the sun of the mind. 
Let the love, &c. 

Let virtue distinguish the brave, 

Place riches in lowest degree ; 
Think bim poorest who can be a slave, 

Him richest who dares to be free. 
Let the love, &c. 

Let us think how our ancestors rose, 

Let us think how our ancestors fell, 
The rights they defended, and those 

They bought with their blood we'll ne'er sell. 
Let the love of our king's sacred right, 
To the love of our country succeed ; 
Let friendship and honour unite 

And flourish on both sides of the Tweed. 



Although his back be at the wa', . 312 

Arouse, arouse each kilted clan, . 170 

As I came by Lochmaben gate, . 58 

As I came down the Cano'gate, . 112 

As I came in by Auchindown, . 1 1 
A soldier, for gallant achievements re- 

nown'd, . 272 

As o'er the Highland hills I hied, . 359 

As over Gladsmuir's blood-stain'd field, 203 

At Auchindown, the tenth of June, 57 
Away ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of 

roses, .... 252 

Awa, Whigs, awa, ... 43 

A wes bird came to our ha' door, . 241 

A while forget the scene of woe, . 322 

Bannocks o' bear meal, bannocks o' bar- 
ley, 288 

Be kind to me, as lang's I'm your's, 172 

Britons, now retrieve your glory, . 54 

Britons, who dare to claim, . . 147 

By the side of a country kirk wall, . 209 

By yon castle wa', at the close o' the day, 22 

ii INDEX. 


Cam ye o'er frae France, . . 47 
Carle, an' the king come, . . 2 
Chinnie the deddy, and Rethy the mon- 
key, 5 

Clavers and his Highlandmen, . 19 

Come, all fast friends, let's jointly pray, 14 

Come along, my brave clans, . . 154 

Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er, 160 
Come, here's to the knights of the true 

royal oak, . . . . 149 

Come, let us drink a health, boys, . 114 

Come listen to my mournful tale, . 328 
Come o'er the stream Charlie, dear 

Charlie, brave Charlie, . 161 

Cope sent a challenge frae Dunbar, 195 

Cope sent a challenge from Dunbar, 197 

Culloden, on thy swarthy brow, . 235 

Donald's gane up the hill hard and hun- 
gry, 70 

Fair Lady mourn the memory, . 232 

Fare thee weel, my native cot, . 280 

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame, . 7 

Farewell to Glen Shalloch, . . 262 

Farewell to pleasant Ditson Hall, . 108 

Far over yon hills of the heather so green, 274 

Frae the friends and land I love, . 343 

From Bogie side to Bog o' Gight, . 84 

From whence, and why such impudence, 227 

Geordie sits in Charlie's chair, . 284 

God bless our lord the king, . . 145 
God prosper our king, and the king's 

noble sons, . . . 221 

INDEX. iii 


Hame, hame, hame, Hame fain wad I be, 357 

Hard fate, that I shou'd banish'd be, 94 

Hark the horn, . . . . 173 

He comes, he comes, the hero comes, 171 

Here's a health to all brave English lads, 158 
Here's a health to the king whom the 

crown doth belong to, . 316 
Here's a health to the valliant Swede, 113 
Here's a health to them that's away, 344 
Hersel pe Highland shentleman . 358 
How lang shall our land thus suffer dis- 
tresses, . . . . 150 

If thou'lt play me fairplay, . . 175 
I had three sons, a' young, stout, and 

bauld, . . . . 264 

I hae nae kith, I hae nae kin, . 8 

I hope there's no soul, . . . 345 

I'll sing you a song, my brave boys . 30 

I may sit in my wee croo house . 15 

It's Geordie's now come hereabout, . 49 
It's Hanover, Hanover, fast as you can 


It was a' for our rightfu' king, . 26 
It was in old times, when trees compos'd 

rhymes, .... 1 
It was upon a day, and a bonny simmer 

day, 339 

Ken ye whare cleekie Murray's gane, 288 

Ken ye wha supped Bessy's haggies, 313 

Lang hae we parted been, 

Let every honest British soul, . 123 

Let misers tremble o'er their wealth, 125 


iv INDEX. 


Let mournful Britons now deplore, 255 

Let our great James come over, . 63 

Little wat ye wha's coming, . . 71 

Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day, 179 

Lochiel, Lochiel, my brave Lochiel, 237 
Long have I pin'd for thee, 

MacGaradh! MacGaradh! red race of 

the Tay, .... 142 

Mackintosh was a soldier brave, . 121 
Make mane, my ain Nithsdale, thy leaf's 

i' the fa', .... 98 
May morning had shed her streamers on 

high, 335 

Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn, . 243 

My bonny moorhen, my bonny moorhen, 338 

My daddy had a riding mare, . 44 

My Harry was a gallant gay, . . 254 

My Harry was a gallant gay, . . 337 

My heart is sair, I daurna tell, . 126 

My laddie can fight, my laddie can sing, 349 

My love he was a Highland lad, . 9 

My love's a bonny laddie, an yon be he, 257 

My love was born in Aberdeen, . Ill 

My name is Bauldy Fraser, man, . 239 

Now Charles asserts his father's right, 184 

Now fy let us a' to the treaty, . 41 

Now up wi' Donald, my ain brave Donald, 185 

O cam ye here the fight to shun, . 89 

O Derwentwater's a bonny lord, . 106 

O dreary laneliness is now, . . 298 

Of all the days that's in the year, . 54 



Oh, cauld in the mools sleep the chiefs 

o' the North, ... 304 

O heav'ns, he's ill to be guidit, . 1 18 

Oh ! I am come to the low countrie, 270 

O, I had a wee bit mailin, . . 27 

O how shall I venture or dare to reveal, 346 

Oh ! send Lewie Gordon hame, . 167 

O Kenmure's on and awa, Willie, . 96 

O ken ye aught o' gude Lochiel, . 13 

On by moss and mountain green, . 225 

Once on a morning of sweet recreation, 140 
O Scotland, my country, far, far have I 

rang'd, . 000 

O sweet was the cot of my father, . 286 

O tell me, Fader Dennison, . . 28 

O think not I weep that an outcast I roam, 279 

O this is no my ain house, . . 23 

Our gallant Prince is now come hame, 206 

Over the hills and far away, . . 141 

O wad ye ken whare she comes frae, 333 

O what's the matter wi' the Whigs ? . 67 

O what's the rhyme to porringer ? . 28 

O where shall I gae seek my bread, . 277 

O Willie, WiUie Wanbeard, . . 24 

Perfidious Britain plung'd in guilt, . 119 

Princely is my lover's weed, . . 162 

Royal Charlie's now awa, . . 282 

Scotland and England must be now, . 342 

Shame fa' my e'en, , 32 

Should old gay mirth and cheerfulness, 309 

Sir John Cope trode the north right far, 191 

Star of the twilight grey, . . . 260 


Sweet is the rose that's budding on yon 

thorn, . ■ . . . . 347 

The auld Stuarts back again, . . 56 

The cannons roar and trumpets sound, 177 

The Chevalier being void of fear, . 198 
The cuckoo's a bonny bird, when he 

comes hame, ... 53 
The heath-cock craw'd o'er muir an' dale, 229 
The Highlandmen came down the hill, 217 
The lovely lass o' Inverness, . . 266 
The piper came to our town, . . 117 
The storm is raging o'er the Kyle, . 318 
There are twa bonny maidens, . . 305 
There liv'd a lass in Inverness, . 265 
There's news ! news ! gallant news ! 302 
There's some say that we wan, . . 73 
There was an old woman that had a bee- 
hive, 341 

The sun rises bright in France, . 269 
The small birds rejoice on the green leaves 

returning, .... 278 

The wind comes frae the land I love, 320 
The Whigs they may brag, but when all's 

said and done, . . . 000 

Thickest night o'erhangs my dwelling, 317 

Though Geordie reigns in Jamie's stead, 127 

Though my fireside it be but sma', . 269 
Tho' rugged and rough be the land of my 

birth, 354 

To ail that virtue's holy ties can boast, 293 
To curb usurpation, by th' assistance of 

France, .... 3 

To daunton me, an' me sae young, . 164 

To daunton me, to daunton me, . 166 


To your arms, to your arms, my bonny 

Highland lads, . . . 211 

'Twas on a Monday morning, » . 188 
'Twas on a Monday morning — (Second Set) 190 

Ungrateful Britons, rouse for shame, 157 

Up and rin awa, Willie, . . . 314 

Up an' rin awa, Hawley, . . . 215 

Up an' rin awa, Willie, . . . 297 

Up an' warn a', Willie, . . . 91 

Wae worth the time that I came here, 130 

Was ever old warrior of sufF'ring so weary, 259 

We a' maun muster soon the morn, . 155 

Weel may we a' be, . . . . 65 

Were ye at Drummossie muir, . . 299 

Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad, . 21 

Whare gang ye, thou silly auld carle, 128 

Wha the deil hae we got for a king, . 46 

What news to me, carlin, . . 105 
What's the spring-breathing jess'mine and 

rose, 362 

Wha wadna fight for Charlie, . . 186 

Wha will ride wi' gallant Murray, . 152 

When France had her assistance lent, 175 

When I left thee, bonny Scotland, . 60 
When Royal Charles, by Heaven's command, 350 

When Sol in shades of night was lost, 250 

When we think on the days of auld, . 62 

When William shall depart this life, . 296 

Where are the days that we hae seen, 134* 
Where is. your daddy gane, my little May, 267 

While thus I view fair Britain's Isle, 168 

White was the rose in his gay bonnet, 258 

Why, my Charlie, dost thou leave me, 275 

viii INDEX. 


Ye true sons of Scotia, together unite, 4> 

Ye warlike men, with tongue and pen, 213 

Ye Whigs are a rebellious crew, . 51 

Young Charlie is a gallant lad, . . 165 

You're right, Queen Anne, Queen Anne, 38 

You're welcome, Charlie Stuart, . 246 
You're welcome, Whigs, from Bothwell 

Briggs, .... 17 



Just Published, uniform ivith this Volume, 
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Neatly Printed, and Embellished with Five Portraits, 
and a beautiful Vignette., Engraved by Cook. 

Contents:— English Bards and Scotch Re- 
viewers, Byron. — New Morality, Canning.-~Thp 
Lousiad, Epistle to James Boswell, and Bozzy 
and Piozzi, Peter Pindar. — An Heroic Epistle 
to Sir Win. Chambers, and an Heroic Postscript 
to the Public, Anonymous. — London and the Va- 
nity of Human Wishes, Johnson.— The Rosciad, 
Churchill. — Retaliation, Goldsmith. — The State 
Dunces, Whitehead. — Advice and Reproof, Smol- 
lett — Taste, and A Day, Armstrong. — On Poe- 
try, Life and Death of Dr Swift, and a Character 
of the Legion Club, Swift* — The Dunciad, Pope. 
All the Notes and Illustrations, originally pub- 
lished with the above works, are carefully re-