Volume Iii Part 30 (1/2)

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi' earliest thochts, As ye hae been to me!

Oh, tell me gin their music fills Thine heart, as it does mine; Oh, say gin e'er your heart grows grit Wi' dreamings o' langsyne?

I 've wander'd east, I 've wander'd west, I 've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot.

The fount that first burst frae this heart, Still travels on its way; And channels deeper as it rins, The luve o' life's young day.

Oh, dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sinder'd young, I 've never seen your face, nor heard The music o' your tongue; But I could hug all wretchedness, And happy could I die, Did I but ken your heart still dream'd O' bygane days and me!

[48] The heroine of this song, Miss Jane Morrison, now Mrs Murdoch, still survives. Her father, Mr Ebenezer Morrison, was a respectable brewer and corn-merchant in Alloa. In the autumn of 1807, when in her seventh year, she became a pupil of Mr Lennie, and for several months occupied the same cla.s.s-room with young Motherwell. Of the flame which she had excited in the susceptible heart of her boy-lover, she was totally unconscious. Mr Lennie, however, in a statement published by the editor of Motherwell's poems, refers to the strong impression which she made on the young poet; he describes her as ”a pretty girl, and of good capacity.” ”Her hair,” he adds, ”was of a lightish brown, approaching to fair; her eyes were dark, and had a sweet and gentle expression; her temper was mild, and her manners una.s.suming.” In 1823, Miss Morrison became the wife of Mr John Murdoch, commission-agent in Glasgow, who died in 1829. She has since resided in different places, but has now (Whitsunday 1856) fixed her abode in the vicinity of Stirling. She never met the poet in after-life, and has only an imperfect recollection of his appearance as a boy. The ballad of ”Jeanie Morrison” had been published for several years before she became aware that she was the heroine. It remains to be added, somewhat in justification of the poet's juvenile pa.s.sion, that Mrs Murdoch is a person of the most gentle and amiable manners, and retains, in a very remarkable degree, that personal beauty for which she was celebrated in youth.

WEARIE'S WELL.

In a saft simmer gloamin', In yon dowie dell, It was there we twa first met, By Wearie's cauld well.

We sat on the broom bank, And look'd in the burn, But sidelang we look'd on Ilk ither in turn.

The corncraik was chirming His sad eerie cry, And the wee stars were dreaming Their path through the sky; The burn babbled freely Its love to ilk flower, But we heard and we saw nought In that blessed hour.

We heard and we saw nought, Above or around; We felt that our luve lived, And loathed idle sound.

I gazed on your sweet face Till tears fill'd my e'e, And they drapt on your wee loof-- A warld's wealth to me.

Now the winter snaw 's fa'ing On bare holm and lea, And the cauld wind is strippin'

Ilk leaf aff the tree.

But the snaw fa's not faster, Nor leaf disna part Sae sune frae the bough, as Faith fades in your heart.

You 've waled out anither Your bridegroom to be; But can his heart luve sae As mine luvit thee?

Ye 'll get biggings and mailins, And mony braw claes; But they a' winna buy back The peace o' past days.

Fareweel, and for ever, My first luve and last; May thy joys be to come-- Mine live in the past.

In sorrow and sadness This hour fa's on me; But light, as thy luve, may It fleet over thee!

WAE BE TO THE ORDERS.

Oh! wae be to the orders that march'd my luve awa', And wae be to the cruel cause that gars my tears down fa', Oh! wae be to the bluidy wars in Hie Germanie, For they hae ta'en my luve, and left a broken heart to me.

The drums beat in the mornin', afore the screich o' day, And the wee, wee fifes play'd loud and shrill, while yet the morn was gray; The bonnie flags were a' unfurl'd, a gallant sight to see, But waes me for my sodger lad that march'd to Germanie.

Oh! lang, lang is the travel to the bonnie Pier o' Leith, Oh! dreich it is to gang on foot wi' the snaw drift in the teeth!

And oh, the cauld wind froze the tear that gather'd in my e'e, When I gaed there to see my luve embark for Germanie.