I HAE NAEBODY NOW WAS published lately in Fraser's Magazine, and received with higher encomiums than it deserved. It was written in the character of a disconsolate parent, whose desolate condition I witnessed; but, Heaven be thanked, as yet having no relation to any breach in my own family. Many of my warm and sincere friends were alarmed at seeing it, and condoled with me; but to such I answer, as I have done already, that if such poetical licenses were not allowable, what a limited hold the bard would occupy!-This song has been set to music both in Scotland and England. It is said that a Mr Ebsworth, an accomplished musician in Edinburgh, has set it beautifully. I HAE naebody now, I hae naebody now To meet me upon the green, Wi' light locks waving o'er her brow, An' joy in her deep blue een; Wi' the raptured kiss an' the happy smile, An' the wee bit tale o' news the while That had happen'd when I was away. I hae naebody now, I hae naebody now To clasp to my bosom at even, O'er her calm sleep to breathe the vow, There's naebody kens, there's naebody kens, An' O may they never prove, That sharpest degree o' agony For the child o' their earthly love To see a flower in its vernal hour By slow degrees decay, Then calmly aneath the hand o' death O dinna break, my poor auld heart, Nor at thy loss repine, For the unseen hand that threw the dart Was sent frae her Father and thine; Yet I maun mourn, an' I will mourn, Even till my latest day, For though my darling can never return, THE FORTY-SECOND'S WELCOME TO SCOTLAND Was written, at the suggestion of Mr George Thomson, on the return of that gallant regiment from Waterloo, and harmonized beautifully by him to the old air bearing the name of the regiment. It is to be found, I think, in Mr Thomson's first volume, small edition. OLD Scotia! wake thy mountain strain, In all its wildest splendours, And welcome back the lads again, Your honour's dear defenders. Be every harp and viol strung, Till all the woodlands quaver; Of many a band your bards have sung, Raise high the pibroch, Donald Bane, That warriors bold may hear it. |