188 THE SHEPHERD'S OBLIGATIONS TO HIM. aften o' mist and snaw, intrudes between them and me—and I'm muckle obleeged, after a', to the honest gentleman, for remindin them o' my existence, and for clearin my character, aboon a' things, frae the stain o' disloyalty contracted frae the traitors wha hae sae lang been plottin against Church and King at the Noctes Ambrosianæ. I thank him also for telling their worships that I'm a sober man-though I canna quite agree wi' him in conceivin't to be ony proof to the contrar, that some sax times a-year I indulge in a gaudeamus in the Snuggery. Thank him, too, for assuring the Society, that our meetings here are no purely imaginary, as some coofs jalouse -and that this Glenlivet-oh! but it outdoes itsel the nicht -is no mere pented air, sic as ane endeavours unavailingly to drink in his dreams. He has removed the Noctes frae the shadowy and unsubstantial realms o' Faery, intil the solid world o' reality, established for perpetuity "their local habitation and their name" in the minds of all the people of Britain and elsewhere—yea, embalmed their remembrance in the more than Egyptian wisdom o' his ain genius Tickler. A pair of mummies, that, when countless generations have passed away, and left no memorial of their being, will be preserved in the museums of the curious and scientific, and poetry penned upon them by the wonder of bards flourishing during the Millennium. North. I should be sorry, my dear James, to let the world believe, with the lacrymose eulogist of your sobriety and loyalty-virtues as native to your orb as light and heat to that of the sun,-a luminary, by the by, which he ought forthwith to vindicate from the generally credited calumny, that he seldom goes to bed, or rises from it, without drinking an unconscionable draught of the sea,-I should be sorry, I say, James, to let the world believe that you are a melancholy man, living in a melancholy place, the victim of unmerited. misfortunes, and the misunderstood and misrepresented Interlocutor in these our Dialogues, at once the disgrace and the delight of the age-countenanced though they be by Kings on their thrones, Bishops and Judges by their benches, Peers and Peasants in hall and hut, Ladies in silk, and Lassies in grogram Tickler. By "Laughter holding both his sides." North. And by Il Penseroso, "under the shade of melan THE SHEPHERD'S TRUE FRIENDS-WILLIAM BLACKWOOD. 189 choly boughs," feeling himself gradually growing into L'Allegro Tickler. Or coming out of the Cave of Trophonius, with "nods and becks and wreathed smiles," so potent the magic of Maga, folded in a Double Number across his fortified heart. North. Most musical thou art, O Shepherd, but not most melancholy; nor hast thou cause, any more than the nightingale, to be other than a merry Bird of Song. True, that with all thy skill and science-witness "Hogg on Sheep"-thy pastoral farm has not been more prosperous than those of thy compeers; but during all thy struggles, thou didst preserve an unspotted name, nor was there wanting one stanch friend to stand by thee in thy difficulties, whether a new edition of the Wake was deemed advisable, or the publication of Queen Hynde, or a collection of thy matchless Songs, many of them first chanted in this Snuggery, James-and how vocal its roof!-or if thy racy articles, beloved by Maga, were sent in from the Forest to brave the Balaam-Box-that tomb of so many Capulets-one stanch friend, James, whom none but the base abuse Shepherd. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD. The Bailie1 has aye been a gude freen to me-but let me say, sir, that I aye gied as gude's I got—and that we staun on the same level o' mutual obligation. North. He is your debtor, James-and is proud to be Shepherd. Na-he's no. But in a' his dealings wi' me, he's been the gentleman, which is something mair nor I can say o' some that ance held their head sae high, and far mair than I can say o' ithers, who, while they trumpet their payment, are as penurious in their poverty as the blusterin wund that, amidst a glint o' seeming sunshine, brings naething but a cauld blash o' sleet. North. Your works, my dear James, in prose and verse, most of them full of the inspiration of true genius, and none of them without its breath, have been, with few months' 1 Mr Blackwood was one of the bailies of Edinburgh at this time. To his enterprise the world is indebted for the projection of the Magazine which has made his name so universally known; and, assisted as he was in its management by able advisers, and in particular by Professor Wilson, to his own judgment he always ultimately trusted, and on him really rested the editorial labour and responsibility. He died in 1834. 190 NORTH-MAGA-LOCKHART-SCOTT. intermission, appearing before the world, often in Maga, for upwards of twenty years-and during all that time, your character has been known to thousands of your admiring and affectionate countrymen. Should any Society, whose noble object it is to reward genius and virtue by solid pudding, and not by empty praise, befriend you in the calm and bright afternoon of your life-for 'tis not yet the gloaming, the evening is still far off, and long, long may it be ere cometh to thee the night in which no man can work-there will be a blessing in their bounty-not on you only, but on themselves. Shepherd. Whisht, sir, whisht. Poor as I am, I'm independent at least I'm no idle; and conscious o' my integrity, I'm as happy as a bird,—though often, you ken sir, the happiest bird wull sit mute and pensive on the bough, aside its nest, when its loving mate is cowerin ower their young anes, as if it was thinkin within itsel what wad become o' them, if it fell aneath the fowler, and the grun' were to be a' covered wi' spring snaw! North. God bless you, my dear James, such melancholy moments but serve to brighten sunshine and gladden song. Shepherd. Oh! but I was cheerfu' at the curlin! Tickler. The beef and greens. North. We have put, I think, this matter in the proper light-removed from it all misapprehension-and courteously and kindly reminded the Quarterly, that should the genius and virtues of the author of the Queen's Wake and the Ettrick Shepherd receive their due and dignified reward from any enlightened patronage, whether of an individual or a society, no praise can, in that case, by possibility, be deserved by that rich but rather stingy periodical; because that, whatever merit may belong to any one besides the poet himself and those who may prove his benefactors, it most assuredly does belong to William Blackwood, Christopher North, and Maga-to whom Shepherd. I beg leave to add, wi' a heart fu' o' everlastin gratitude, John Gibson Lockhart, and Sir Walter Scott. North. On whom, now and ever, be all blessings poured from heaven-and may the light of their hearths burn bright as that of their fame! Shepherd. Amen,-Hurraw! hurraw! hurraw! Noo, I'll sing you a bit sang, out o' the colleckshun 2 O weel befa' the maiden gay, Wha lo'es the modest truth sae weel- O, weel befa' the bonny thing 'Tis sweet to hear the music float 'Tis sweet to hear the blackbird's note To see the lambkin's lightsome race- O, had it no been for the blush Dear beauty never had been known, An' never had a name. But aye sin' that dear thing of blame But deadliest far the sacred flame There's beauty in the violet's vest There's hinny in the haw— There's dew within the rose's breast, The sweetest o' them a'. The sun will rise and set again, And lace wi' burning gowd the main-- But lovelier far the bonny thing That wons in yonder glen. 191 1 Sung here for the second time, with one or two slight variations. See vol. i. p. 203. 2 Bught-sheepfold. 192 LITERARY SUPPERS. THE BEST SOCIETY." Tickler. Clearly and crousely crawed, my cock. North. Sweetly and silverly sung, my nightingale. Shepherd. It's a gran' thing, sirs, to be the cock o' the company, occasionally; at ither times, pensie as a pullet. Tickler. Anything but a hen. Shepherd. At leeterary soopers, I like to see a blue-stocking playin the how-towdy. North. How? Shepherd. Chucklin intil hersel, when a spruce young cockie is lettin his wing drap close aside hers, and half-receivin halfdeclinin his advances, like ony ither Christian lassie wha mayna hae the gift o' writin verses ayont a Valentine. Far better sic undertoned and underhaund natural dealins, maist innocent a', than cacklin about Coleridge, or blouterin about Byron, or cheepin, as if she had the pip, o' Barry Cornwall. North. Some maidens I know, James, bright as the muses, whose souls, as well as frames, are made of the finest clay, who before the eyes of the uninitiated pass for commonplace characters, because, unpresumptuous in their genius, and retiring in their sensibility, oft "the house affairs do call them thence;" because, to their lips none so familiar as household words; and because to their hearts dearer are the tender humanities of life, than bright to their imaginations the poetic visions, that yet "swarm on every bough," when they walk in their beautiful happiness by Windermere or Loch Lomond. Tickler. I, too, like occasionally to play the first fiddle. Shepherd. An' you're entitled to do sae; for you've a fine finger, and a bauld bow-haun. North. I love best of all to sit sympathetically mute among my friends, and by a benign countenance to encourage the artless fluency of young lips, overflowing with the music of untamed delight in life, "a stranger yet to pain." Shepherd. A benign countenance ! North. Few words have been more perverted from their true meaning, by being narrowed, than the words one so frequently hears, nowadays, from not unvulgar lips - "Good Society ""The Best Society." Tickler. "The highest circles." North. In my opinion, James, a man may commit a worse mistake, in aspiring to association with persons above his own rank, than in descending somewhat, perhaps, below it, in the intercourse of private and domestic life. |