On board the ship, resign’d
to fate,
Yet planning joys
to come,
Her love in silent sorrow
sate
Upon a broken
drum.
He saw her lonely on the beach;
He saw her on
the strand;
And far as human eye can reach
He saw her wave
her hand!
“O Rosabel! though forced
to go,
With thee my soul
shall dwell,
And Heaven, who pities human
woe,
Will comfort Rosabel!”
JOHN HAMILTON.
Of the personal history of John Hamilton only a few particulars can be ascertained. He carried on business for many years as a music-seller in North Bridge Street, Edinburgh, and likewise gave instructions in the art of instrumental music to private families. He had the good fortune to attract the favour of one of his fair pupils—a young lady of birth and fortune—whom he married, much to the displeasure of her relations. He fell into impaired health, and died on the 23d of September 1814, in the fifty-third year of his age. To the lovers of Scottish melody the name of Mr Hamilton is familiar, as a composer of several esteemed and beautiful airs. His contributions to the department of Scottish song entitle his name to an honourable place.
THE RANTIN’ HIGHLANDMAN.
Ae morn, last ouk, as I gaed
out
To flit a tether’d
ewe and lamb,
I met, as skiffin’ ower
the green,
A jolly, rantin’
Highlandman.
His shape was neat, wi’
feature sweet,
And ilka smile
my favour wan;
I ne’er had seen sae
braw a lad
As this young
rantin’ Highlandman.
He said, “My dear, ye
’re sune asteer;
Cam’ ye
to hear the lav’rock’s sang?
Oh, wad ye gang and wed wi’
me,
And wed a rantin’
Highlandman?
In summer days, on flow’ry
braes,
When frisky are
the ewe and lamb,
I ’se row ye in my tartan
plaid,
And be your rantin’
Highlandman.
“Wi’ heather bells,
that sweetly smell,
I ’ll deck
your hair, sae fair and lang,
If ye ’ll consent to
scour the bent
Wi’ me,
a rantin’ Highlandman.
We ’ll big a cot, and
buy a stock,
Syne do the best
that e’er we can;
Then come, my dear, ye needna
fear
To trust a rantin’
Highlandman.”
His words, sae sweet, gaed
to my heart,
And fain I wad
hae gi’en my han’;
Yet durstna, lest my mither
should
Dislike a rantin’
Highlandman.
But I expect he will come
back;
Then, though my
kin should scauld and ban,
I ’ll ower the hill,
or whare he will,
Wi’ my young
rantin’ Highlandman.
UP IN THE MORNIN’ EARLY.[25]