[This poem is supposed to have been the last, or among the last, of Nicoll's compositions.] The dew is on the summer's greenest grass, Blessed is the brightness of a summer day; These words have shaken mighty human souls- away? Longings for beings nobler in each part Things more exalted-steeped in deeper bliss? The Exile's Song. The bulbul sweetly sings. In my ain countrie! In the Days o' Langsyne. In the days o' langsyne, when we carles were young, Who gave us these? What are they? Soul, in thee An' nae foreign fashions amang us had sprung; The bud is budding now for immortality! Death comes to take me where I long to be; One pang, and bright blooms the immortal flower; Death comes to lead me from mortality, To lands which know not one unhappy hour; I have a hope, a faith-from sorrow here Can I not love them deeper, better there? May meet again! Death answers many a prayer. Bright day, shine on! be glad days brighter far Are stretched before my eyes than those of mortals are! ROBERT GILFILLAN. Though no Scottish poetry besides that of Burns attracts attention out of its native country, there is not wanting a band of able and warm-hearted men who continue to cultivate it for their own amusement and that of their countrymen. Amongst these may be mentioned MESSRS RODGER, BALLANTYNE, VEDDER, and GRAY: a high place in the class is due to MR ROBERT GILFILLAN, a native of Dunfermline, whose Poems and Songs have passed through three editions. The songs of Mr Gilfillan are marked by gentle and kindly feelings, and a smooth flow of versification, which makes them eminently suitable for being expressed in music. When we made our ain bannocks, and brewed our ain yill, An' were clad frae the sheep that gaed white on thehill; Wi' the rest'o' my claes I hae rowed up the ribbon, On ilka howm the sward was mawn, Ye powers wha row this yirthen ba', That owre the muir meandering rows; Lucy's Flittin'. [By William Laidlaw.] [William Laidlaw is son of the Ettrick Shepherd's master at Blackhouse. All who have read Lockhart's Life of Scott, know how closely Mr Laidlaw was connected with the illustrious baronet of Abbotsford. He was his companion in some of his early wanderings, his friend and land-steward in advanced years, his amanuensis in the composition of some of his novels, and he was one of the few who watched over his last sad and painful moments. Lucy's Flittin' is deservedly popular for its unaffected tenderness and simplicity. In printing the song, Hogg added the last four lines to complete the story.'] 'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree was fa'in, And Martinmas dowie had wound up the year, That Lucy rowed up her wee kist wi' her a' in't, And left her auld maister and neibours sae dear: For Lucy had served i' the glen a' the simmer; She cam there afore the bloom cam on the pea; An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her, Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her ee. She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stannin'; Richt sair was his kind heart her flittin' to see; 'Fare ye weel, Lucy!' quo' Jamie, and ran in; The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae her ee. Then what gars me wish ony better to be? The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when its droukit; The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lea; But Lucy likes Jamie;'-she turned and she lookit, She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see. Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless! And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn! For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return! The Brownie of Blednoch. [By William Nicholson.] There cam a strange wight to our town-en', His face did glow like the glow o' the west, O, sirs! 'twas Aiken-drum. I trow the bauldest stood aback, Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum? O! had ye seen the bairns' fright, As they stared at this wild and unyirthly wight; As they skulkit in 'tween the dark and the light, And graned out, Aiken-drum! The black dog growling cowered his tail, At the sight o' Aiken-drum. His matted head on his breast did rest, Roun' his hairy form there was naething seen On his wauchie arms three claws did meet, To look at Aiken-drum. But he drew a score, himsel' did sain, But the canny auld wife cam till her breath, But it feared na Aiken-drum.. 'His presence protect us!' quoth the auld gudeman; 'I lived in a lan' where we saw nae sky, I'll shiel a' your sheep i' the mornin' sune, 1 I'll loup the linn when ye canna wade, I'se tame't,' quoth Aiken-drum. To wear the tod frae the flock on the fell, I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond, nor mark; Is the wage o' Aiken-drum.' Quoth the wylie auld wife, 'The thing speaks weel; But the wenches skirled, 'He's no be here! Puir clipmalabors! ye hae little wit; Roun' a' that side what wark was dune Sae helpfu' was Aiken-drum. On Blednoch banks, an' on crystal Cree, Sae social was Aiken-drum. But a new-made wife, fu' o' frippish freaks, Let the learned decide when they convene, He was heard by a herd gaun by the Thrieve, O! luckless Aiken-drum!' Awa, ye wrangling sceptic tribe, Though the 'Brownie o' Blednoch' lang be gane, Tell the feats o' Aiken-drum. E'en now, light loons that jibe an' sneer Song. [By Joseph Train.] [Mr Train will be memorable in our literary history for the assistance he rendered to Sir Walter Scott in the contribution of some of the stories on which the Waverley novels were founded. He entered life as a private soldier, and rose by merit to be a supervisor of excise, from which situation he has now retired on a superannuation allowance.] Wi' drums and pipes the clachan rang, I bickered down the mountain side. The auld thing weel done o'er again. Right far a-fiel' I freely fought, The Cameronian's Dream. [James Hislop was born of humble parents in the parish of Kirkconnel, in the neighbourhood of Sanquhar, near the source of the Nith, in July 1798. He was employed as a shepherd-boy in the vicinity of Airsmoss, where, at the gravestone of a party of slain covenanters, he composed the following striking poera. He afterwards became a teacher, and his poetical effusions having attracted the favourable notice of Lord Jeffrey, and other eminent literary characters, he was, through their inffuence, appointed schoolmaster, first on board the Doris, and subsequently the Tweed man-of-war. He died on the 4th Decem ber 1827 from fever caught by sleeping one night in the open air upon the island of St Jago. His compositions display an elegant rather than a vigorous imagination, much chasteness of thought, and a pure but ardent love of nature.] In a dream of the night I was wafted away, An' guidly folks hae gotten a fright, 'Twas morning; and summer's young sun from the east Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's breast; Glistened there 'mong the heath bells and mountain Wi' sughs like Aiken-drum. flowers blue. And far up in heaven near the white sunny cloud, And Wellwood's sweet valleys breathed music and gladness, The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness; But, oh! there were hearts cherished far other feelings, For they knew that their blood would bedew it to morrow. Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unsheathed, But the vengeance that darkened their brow was unbreathed; With eyes turned to heaven in calm resignation, The hills with the deep mournful music were ringing, Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were shrouded, Yet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded, Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as, firm and unbending, They stood like the rock which the thunder is rending. The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming, The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was stream ing, The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling, When in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were falling. When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended, A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining, Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation. On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding, Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are riding; Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye, A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory! DRAMATISTS. Dramatic literature no longer occupies the prominent place it held in former periods of our history. Various causes have been assigned for this declineas, the great size of the theatres, the monopoly of the two large London houses, the love of spectacle or scenic display which has usurped the place of the legitimate drama, and the late dinner hours now prevalent among the higher and even the middle classes. The increased competition in business has also made our 'nation of shopkeepers' a busier and harder-working race than their forefathers; and the diffusion of cheap literature may have further tended to thin the theatres, as furnishing intellectual entertainment for the masses at home at a cheaper rate than dramatic performances. The London managers appear to have had considerable influence in this matter. They lavish enormous sums on scenic decoration and particular actors, and aim rather at filling their houses by some ephemeral and dazzling display, than by the liberal encouragement of native talent and genius. To improve, or rather re-establish the acted drama, a periodical writer suggests that there should be a classification of theatres in the metropolis, as in Paris, where each theatre has its distinct species of the drama, and performs it well. We believe,' he says, 'that the evil is mainly occasioned by the vain endeavour of managers to succeed by commixing every species of entertainment-huddling together tragedy, comedy, farce, melo-drama, and spectacleand striving, by alternate exhibitions, to draw all the dramatic public to their respective houses. Im perfect-very imperfect companies for each species are engaged; and as, in consequence of the general imperfection, they are forced to rely on individual excellence, individual performers become of inordinate importance,. and the most exorbitant salaries are given to procure them. These individuals are thus placed in a false position, and indulge themselves in all sorts of mannerisms and absurdities. The public is not unreasonably dissatisfied with imperfect companies and bad performances; the managers wonder at their ruin; and critics become elegiacal over the mournful decline of the drama! Not in this way can a theatre flourish; since, if one species of performance proves attractive, the others are at a discount, and their companies become useless burdens; if none of them prove attractive, then the loss ends in ruin.'* Too many instances of this have occurred within the last twenty years. Whenever a play of real excellence has been brought forward, the public has shown no insensibility to its merits; but so many circumstances are requisite to its successful representation-so expensive are the companies, and so capricious the favourite actors-that men of talent are averse to hazard a competition. The true dramatic talent is also a rare gift. Some of the most eminent poets have failed in attempting to portray actual life and passion in interesting situations on the stage; and as Fielding and Smollett proved unsuccessful in comedy (though the former wrote a number of pieces), so Byron and Scott were found wanting in the qualities requisite for the tragic drama. It is evident,' says Campbell, that Melpomene demands on the stage something, and a good deal more, than even poetical talent, rare as that is. She requires a potent and peculiar faculty for the invention of incident adapted to theatric effect; a faculty which may often exist in those who have been bred to the stage, but which, generally speaking, has seldom been shown by any poets who were not professional players. There are exceptions to the remark, but there are not many. If Shakspeare had not been a player, he would not have been the dramatist that he is.' Dryden, Addison, and Congreve, are conspicuous exceptions to this rule; also Goldsmith in comedy, and, in our own day, Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer in the romantic drama. The Colmans, Sheridan, Morton, and Reynolds, never,. we believe, wore the sock or buskin; but they were either managers, or closely connected with the theatre. * Edinburgh Review for 1843. In the first year of this period, ROBERT JEPHSON associates! partners of my toil, my feelings, and (1736-1803) produced his tragedy of The Count of Narbonne, copied from Walpole's Castle of Otranto, and it was highly attractive on the stage. In 1785 Jephson brought out another tragedy, The Duke of Braganza, which was equally successful. He wrote three other tragedies, some farces, and operas; but the whole are now utterly neglected. Jephson was no great dramatic writer; but a poetical critic has recorded to his honour, that, 'at a time when the native genius of tragedy seemed to be extinct, he came boldly forward as a tragic poet, and certainly with a spark of talent; for if he has not the full flame of genius, he has at least its scintillating light.' The dramatist was an Irishman by birth, a captain in the army, and afterwards a member of the Irish House of Commons. The stage was aroused from a state of insipidity or degeneracy by the introduction of plays from the German, which, amidst much false and exaggerated sentiment, appealed to the stronger sympathies of our nature, and drew crowded audiences to the theatres. One of the first of these was The Stranger, said to be translated by Benjamin Thompson; but the greater part of it, as it was acted, was the production of Sheridan. It is a drama of domestic life, not very moral or beneficial in its tendencies (for it is calculated to palliate our detestation of adultery), yet abounding in scenes of tenderness and surprise, well adapted to produce effect on the stage. The principal characters were acted by Kemble and Mrs Siddons, and when it was brought out in the season of 1797-8, it was received with immense applause. In 1799 Sheridan adapted another of Kotzebue's plays, Pizarro, which experienced still greater success. In the former drama the German author had violated the proprieties of our moral code, by making an injured husband take back his guilty though penitent wife; and in Pizarro he has invested a fallen female with tenderness, compassion, and heroism. The obtrusion of such a character as a prominent figure in the scene was at least indelicate; but, in the hands of Mrs Siddons, the taint was scarcely perceived, and Sheridan had softened down the most objectionable parts. The play was produced with all the aids of splendid scenery, music, and fine acting, and these, together with its displays of generous and heroic feeling on the part of Rolla, and of parental affection in Alonzo and Cora, were calculated to lead captive a general audience, 'Its subject was also new, and peculiarly fortunate. It brought the adventures of the most romantic kingdom of Christendom (Spain) into picturesque combination with the simplicity and superstitions of the transatlantic world; and gave the imagination a new and fresh empire of paganism, with its temples, and rites, and altars, without the stale associations of pedantry.' Some of the sentiments and descriptions in Pizarro are said to have originally formed part of Sheridan's famous speech on the impeachment of Warren Hastings! They are often inflated and bombastic, and full of rhetorical glitter. Thus Rollo soliloquises in Alonzo's dungeon: -O holy Nature! thou dost never plead in vain. There is not of our earth a creature, bearing form and life, human or savage, native of the forest wild or giddy air, around whose parent bosom thou hast not a cord entwined of power to tie them to their offspring's claims, and at thy will to draw them back to thee. On iron pinions borne the blood-stained vulture cleaves the storm, yet is the plumage closest to her heart soft as the cygnet's down; and o'er her unshelled brood the murmuring ring-dove sits not more gently.' Or the speech of Rolla to the Peruvian army my fame! Can Rolla's words add vigour to the at the consecration of the banners:- My brave |spiring influence on the rising genius of that age. |