JAMES HOGG. JAMES HOGG was born in Ettrick, Selkirkshire, Scotland, in 1770. The precise date is unknown. His ancestors were shepherds; he followed the same occupation, and is known in literature as the Ettrick Shepherd rather better than by his proper name. His mother is said to have been a woman of superior energy, with considerable culture. When the poet was six years of age, his father, who had been thrifty and prosperous, became bankrupt, and the boy was taken from school, where he had been but three months, and hired out as a cow-herd. His wages for six months were a ewe lamb and a pair of shoes. At the end of this engagement he attended school three months longer, which was all the education he ever received. His life was spent among the hills, where he soon forgot whatever he had learned. In his fourteenth year, finding that he had some taste for music, he saved five shillings and bought an old violin, on which he learned to play his favorite tunes. At the age of eighteen he had reached the comparatively easy post of shepherd, and he began to teach himself to read, using borrowed copies of Minstrel's "Life of Sir William Wallace," and Allan Ramsay's "Gentle Shepherd." In his twentieth year he entered the service of James Laidlaw, who appreciated Hogg's desire for learning and gave him the use of his library. He was assisted also by his master's son William (afterward Sir Walter Scott's amanuensis), who writes: "He was not long in going through all the books belonging to my father; and learning from me that Mr. Elder, bookseller, Peebles, had a large collection of books which he used as a circulating library, he forthwith became a subscriber, KILMENY. BONNY Kilmeny gaed up the glen; But it wasna to meet Duneira's men, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu' the cress-flower round the springThe scarlet hypp, and the hind-berry, And the nut that hung frae the hazel-tree; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. But lang may her minny look o'er the wa', And lang may she seek i' the green-wood shaw; and by that means read Smollett's and Field. ing's novels, and those voyages and travels which were published at the time, including those of Cook, Carteret, and others." All this time Hogg had not attempted penmanship. He now learned to write while sitting on the hillside watching his sheep, his knees being his desk, with the ink-bottle suspended from his button-hole. He composed his first poem when twenty-six years old. It was a song for the shepherd-girls, who thereupon gave him the title of "Jamie the Poeter." He was a great favorite among the young people of his own sphere, both because of his music and verses, and because he was handsome, strong, and amiable. His first publication was of short prose essays, in the "Scots Magazine." At a party in Edinburgh he was asked for a song, and sang one of his own, which was received with great applause, and one of the company procured its publication, when it speedily became popular in all parts of the kingdom. In 1801 he published his first book, a pamphlet of sixty-two pages, entitled "Scottish Pastorals, Poems, Songs, etc.," which was well received, and in 1803 he published "The Mountain Bard," a collection of songs and poems, with a sketch of his life. In 1810 he went to Edinburgh as a literary adventurer, where he established a short-lived weekly called "The Spy," and gradually became intimate with men of letters. In 1813 he published his greatest poem, "The Queen's Wake," which was immediately successful and fully established his fame. He wrote various other books, but only his poems and his tales Lave fairly survived. He died on November 21, 1835. When the ingle lowed with an eiry leme, "Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been? Kilmeny looked up with a lovely grace, But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny's face; As still was her look, and as still was her ee, As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. For Kilmeny had been she knew not where, And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare; Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew; But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung, And the airs of heaven played round her tongue, When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, And a land where sin had never been- In yon green-wood there is a waik, And in that wene there is a maike, That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane; And down in yon green-wood he walks his ' lane. In that green wene, Kilmeny lay, Her bosom happ'd wi' the flowerets gay; But the air was soft, and the silence deep, And bonny Kilmeny fell sound asleep; She kend nae mair, nor opened her ee, Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye. She 'wakened on a couch of the silk sae slim, All striped wi' the bars of the rainbow's rim; "Lang have I journeyed the world wide," A meek and reverend fere replied; "Baith night and day I have watched the fair Eident a thousand years and mair. Yes, I have watched o'er ilk degree, Wherever blooms femenitye; But sinless virgin, free of stain, In mind and body, fand I nane. Never, since the banquet of time, Found I a virgin in her prime, Till late this bonny maiden I saw, As spotless as the morning snaw. Full twenty years she has lived as free As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye. I have brought her away frae the snares of men, That sin or death she may never ken." They clasped her waist and her hands sae fair; They kissed her cheek, and they kemed her hair; And round came many a blooming fere, Saying, "Bonny Kilmeny, ye're welcome here; For it's they who nurice the immortal mind. And deep in the green-wood walks alone; The viewless tears have o'er them shed; And the angels will weep at the day of doom! "Oh, would the fairest of mortal kind Aye keep the holy truths in mind, That kindred spirits their motions see, Who watch their ways with anxious ee, And grieve for the guilt of humanitye! Oh, sweet to heaven the maiden's prayer, And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair! And dear to heaven the words of truth And the praise of virtue frae beauty's mouth! And dear to the viewless forms of air, The minds that kythe as the body fair! "O, bonny Kilmeny! free frae stain, If ever you seek the world againThat world of sin, of sorrow and fearOh, tell of the joys that are waiting here; And tell of the signs you shall shortly see; Of the times that are now, and the times that shall be." They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away, And she walked in the light of a sunless day; The sky was a dome of crystal bright, The fountain of vision, and fountain of light; The emerald fields were of dazzling glow, And the flowers of everlasting blow. Then deep in the stream her body they laid, In the stream of life that wandered by. But lang, lang after baith night and day, Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom!" They bore her away, she wist not how, For she felt not arm nor rest below; But so swift they waned her through the light, 'Twas like the motion of sound or sight; They seemed to split the gales of air, And yet nor gale nor breeze was there. Unnumbered groves below them grew; They came, they past, and backward flew, Like floods of blossoms gliding on, In moment seen, in moment gone. Oh, never vales to mortal view Appeared like those o'er which they flew, That land to human spirits given, The lowermost vales of the storied heaven; From whence they can view the world below, And heaven's blue gates with sapphires glowMore glory yet unmeet to know. They bore her far to a mountain green, And they seated her high on a purple sward, Far swifter than wind, or the linkèd flame; She saw a sun on a summer sky, And that land had glens and mountains gray; A thousand times and a thousand again; Little peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth. Kilmeny sighed and seemed to grieve, And a leifu' maiden stood at her knee, With a silver wand and melting eeHer sovereign shield, till love stole in, And poisoned all the fount within. Then a gruff, untoward bedes-man came, And she saw the red blood fall like rain. Then the gruff, grim carle girnèd amain, And they trampled him down but he rose again; And he baited the lion to deeds of weir, She saw below her, fair unfurled, the seas. The widows they wailed, and the red blood ran, With a mooted wing and waefu' maen, The eagle sought her eiry again; But lang may she cower in her bloody nest, And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast, Before she sey another flight, To play wi' the norland lion's might. But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw, For she found her heart to that land did So far surpassing Nature's law, cleave; She saw the corn wave on the vale; She saw the deer run down the dale; She saw a lady sit on a throne, The fairest that ever the sun shone on! The singer's voice wad sink away, Then Kilmeny begged again to see The friends she had left in her own countrye, To tell of the place where she had been, And the glories that lay in the land unseen; To warn the living maidens fair, With distant music, soft and deep, wene. When seven long years had come and fled; When grief was calm, and hope was dead; When scarce was remembered Kilmeny's name, Late, late in a gloamin, Kilmeny came hame! For there was no pride nor passion there; To suck the flowers and drink the spring. Oh, then the glen was all in motion! And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret LOCK THE DOOR, LARISTON. Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddisdale, Lock the door, Lariston, Lowther comes on, The Armstrongs are flying, Their widows are crying, See how the Saxon plumes bob on the sky, Fierce is the foray, and far is the cry. Bewcastle brandishes high his broad scimitar, Ridley is riding his fleet-footed grey, Hidley and Howard there, Wandale and WindermereLock the door, Lariston, hold them at bay. Why dost thou smile, noble Elliot of Lariston? Why does the joy-candle gleam in thine eye? Thou bold border ranger Beware of thy danger Thy foes are relentless, determined, and nigh. "I've Mangerton, Ogilvie, Raeburn, and Netherby, Old Sim of Whitram, and all his array; Red as the beacon-light tipp'd he the wold; Never more oped on his orbit of gold! Shrill was the bugle's note, dreadful the warrior shout, Lances and halberts in splinters were borne; Buckler and armlet in shivers were shorn. Howard-ah! woe to thy hopes of the day! SONGS. THE SOLDIER'S WIDOW. Tune-Gilderoy. AN' art thou fled, my bonny boy, I hop'd, when thou wert grown a man, I thought when I was fail'd, I might Now clos'd an' set that sparkling eye! An' a' my hope, an' a' my joy, But thou art fled, my bonny boy, The flower now fading on the lea, For thou art fled, my bonny boy! THE FLOWER. O SOFTLY blow, thou biting blast, Long has she hung her drooping head, But transient sun-beams, through the cloud, One sweetly scented summer eve To yonder bower I stray'd; While little birds from every bough Their music wild convey'd ; The sun-beam lean'd across the shower, And wonder fill'd mine eye. Her border was the purple tint Stole from the rising sun; The whitish feather, from the swan, Her placid smile was love and grace Must ev'ry bosom win; But frost, on cold misfortune's wing, How can ye blow, relentless winds, LORD EGLINTON'S AULD MAN. THE auld gudeman cam hame at night, His looks were like an evening bright, He spake o' days, lang past an' gane, "Then blythly blush'd the mornin' dawn, An' gay the gloamin' fell; For sweet content led aye the van, We had our griefs, we had our joys, We nourish'd virtuous girls an' boys, The life o' man's a winter day; But yet his pleasures have the way, But conscious virtue still maintains The honest heart through toils an' pains, An' hope o' better days remains, An' hauds the heart aboon." BONNY MARY. WHERE Scaur rins wimpling 'mang the rocks |