Volume V Part 14 (1/2)

FOOTNOTES:

[10] Here printed for the first time.

ARCHIBALD MACKAY.

Archibald Mackay was born at Kilmarnock in 1801. Receiving a common school education, he was apprenticed to a handloom weaver. Abandoning the loom, he subsequently acquired a knowledge of bookbinding, and has continued to prosecute that trade. From his youth devoted to the Muse, he produced in 1828 a metrical tale, ent.i.tled ”Drouthy Tam,” which, pa.s.sing through numerous editions, brought a local reputation to the writer. In 1830 he published a small volume of poems, and in 1832 a little work in prose and verse, ent.i.tled ”Recreations of Leisure Hours.”

In 1848 appeared from his pen a ”History of Kilmarnock,” in a well-written octavo volume. A collection of his best songs was published in 1855, under the t.i.tle of ”Ingleside Lilts.” Mackay has contributed extensively to the local journals, and has established a circulating library for the benefit of his fellow-townsmen.

OUR AULD SCOTS SANGS.

AIR--_”Traveller's Return.”_

Oh, weel I lo'e our auld Scots sangs, The mournfu' and the gay; They charm'd me by a mither's knee, In bairnhood's happy day: And even yet, though owre my pow The snaws of age are flung, The bluid loups joyfu' in my veins Whene'er I hear them sung.

They bring the fond smile to the cheek, Or tear-drap to the e'e; They bring to mind auld cronies kind, Wha sung them aft wi' glee.

We seem again to hear the voice Of mony a lang-lost frien'; We seem again to grip the hand That lang in dust has been.

And, oh, how true our auld Scots sangs When nature they portray!

We think we hear the wee bit burn Gaun bickering doun the brae; We see the spot, though far awa', Where first life's breath we drew, And a' the gowden scenes of youth Seem rising to the view.

And dear I lo'e the wild war strains Our langsyne minstrels sung-- They rouse wi' patriotic fires The hearts of auld and young; And even the dowie dirge that wails Some brave but ruin'd band, Inspires us wi' a warmer love For hame and fatherland.

Yes, leese me on our auld Scots sangs-- The sangs of love and glee, The sangs that tell of glorious deeds That made auld Scotland free.

What though they sprung frae simple bards, Wha kent nae rules of art?

They ever, ever yield a charm That lingers round the heart.

MY LADDIE LIES LOW.

Alas! how true the boding voice That whisper'd aft to me, ”Thy bonnie lad will ne'er return To Scotland or to thee!”

Oh! true it spoke, though hope the while Shed forth its brightest beam; For low in death my laddie lies By Alma's b.l.o.o.d.y stream.

I heard the village bells proclaim That glorious deeds were done; I heard wi' joy the gladsome shout, ”The field, the field is won!”

And I thought my lad, wi' glory crown'd, Might come to me again; But vain the thought! cold, cold he lies On Alma's gory plain.