9

HOGG IN LONDON.

IMITATION OF OLD SCOTTISH BALLADS.

We have been tired for a long while with imitations of old Scottish ballads, or compositions, alleged to be in the language, and after the manner of the early makers of Scotland. One of the most indefatigable

labourers in this vein has been our friend the Ettrick Shepherd; but, disposed as we are to admit his fine poetical capacity, we cannot concede to him the merit of being either a correct antiquary, or an ingenious imitator. Throwing the poetry and the thought out of the question, nothing can be more absurd than his compositions, which have appeared in various publications, in what he is pleased to style old Scottish. A correspondent of our's in London, who met with the worthy Shepherd, some few days ago in the metropolis, appears to entertain the same opinion, and has furnished us with a literary curiosity, of considerable interest, inasmuch, as it is the conjunct production of three very eminent characters. Our correspondent sends us it, as a fair specimen of what a correct imitation of the old traditionary and romantic ballad of Scotland should be, if properly handled by modern pens; and we are inclined to believe, that the eminent writers who have been concerned in it have performed their task with no mean ability. The iteration of circumstance, and identity of expression, as well as the constant recurrence of a refrain or burden, are features, common to all traditionary poetry. These, we find, occur in the romances of Spain, the Provençal troubadours, as well as in the ballads of the whole north of Europe. In general, the refrain consists either of a line of an older song, or some proverbial expression; and we observe that in the production, handed to us by our correspondent, this has formed a feature of prominent interest. For ballads, we entertain but a limited admiration; but, under the whole circumstances of the case, we daresay the present imitation has claims of no ordinary kind upon a literary public. But let our correspondent speak for himself:

MY DEAR MR. DAY,

For by that every-day name, I must for the present, address you-I have the pleasure of informing you, that not a few of your papers have found their way to the great Wen, as Cobbett chooses to designate the modern Babylon. If it can add to your satisfaction, I can give you another piece of intelligence, namely, that we all wish you good speed. We admire the novelty and boldness of starting a daily publication, in a city only removed 33 degrees from the north pole; and, although we concur in opinion that "The Day" is only in its dawn, we confidently anticipate that it will soon culminate to its meridian splendour, and when it closes, as every day must do, that it will be succeeded by a starry and luminous night, the glorious herald of some brighter day to-morrow.

You see my old sin of playing upon words has stuck to me as closely as my debts. One and t'other are a part of my existence, and are now quite as essential, in the present state of society, as the union of soul and body; and, since they never quarrel with each other, I have no mind that they should ever conjunctly sue in the Doctors' Commons for a divorce.

gave

I have just returned from Jerdan's, the hour of the night or the morning I cannot tell you, but if the truth must be told, and I were upon my oath upon the subject, I would depone to the best of my knowledge and belief, that it was some "twa or three hours ayont the twal;" but, be that as it may, here am I in my old lodgings, safe and sound, unburked, unbishopped, and, as I was when we last met here, still your assured friend, and bon camerado. Never did I pass a pleasanter evening. Who think you were present at our soirée, but the Ettrick Shepherd and Allan Cunninghame? There were a number of the small fry of the day besides, (excuse the phrase, my dear fellow,) but we three got into a snug corner together, and, as good luck would have it, our friend K― had, with a provident foresight of our peculiar national tastes, brought his contribution to the enjoyments of the evening, in the shape of a jolly-bellied bottle of exquisite, unadulterated, virgin and unsophisticated Glenlivet. We snuffed it up, as the Andalusian mares do the west wind, and you may conceive what followed. Why, if mortal man can be happy, we were. Our hearts were thawed under the genial influence of that liquour of the Scandanavian divinities, ycleped toddy, and our tongues, like Munchausen's horn, recovered their tones, and utterance to much right pleasant and fructifying discourse. Hogg wore his grey maud, a bit of affectation, by-the-bye; but yet I like it, for why should we forego our national costume? Surely, a Scottish Shepherd, as well as an Hebrew Jew, a Turk or Armenian, should venerate the garb of his forefathers. I should only have liked that, to complete his attire, he had sported the broad Kilmarnock bonnet, in shape so like a scone, as well as the coat and breeks of Raploch grey, or watchet blue, of home manufacture; and it is because the Shepherd was incongruous and incomplete in his attire, that I deem him liable to the charge of affectation. From a paragraph I wrote for one of the morning papers, you will have observed that he has figured in Irving's Chapel. Neither the Prophet from the Border, nor his Female Professor of Unknown Tongues, had any monopoly of admiration that day, I can assure you. The good honest weather-beaten sagacious phiz of our Ettrick forrester, fairly drew off the attention of the congregation, from the sombre gesticulation of the one, or the eldritch squalling of the other. There was ten to one in favour of the "Queen's Wake" against religi ous fanaticism and humbug, and no takers. Hogg's business in London, besides, as he expresses it, glowr about him, and see the ferlies," is, if possible, to get some publisher to bring out his novels in a monthly form, like the Waverley ones. But I fear he won't succeed, for the trade here is confoundedly dull. In fact, nothing will take save political pamphleteering. For my part, I have managed to keep soul and body together, by penning two pamphlets in favour of the Bill, and two against it, which is but fair, as one must live, come of the Bill and Ministry what may.

to

But I am wandering from my subject. Cunninghame, Hogg and I had got ourselves ensconsed in a nice cozy corner, (by the way, I must inform you, that Hogg is here transmogrified into a Lion, and unless he makes a speedy retreat to Altrive lake, he will be dined, suppered and fuddled off his feet,) and, in that corner, I fell tooth and nail upon both him and Cun

ninghame, for their respective sins, in the article of ballad making. With Cunninghame, I objected to his attempt of fastening upon the Covenanters any thing in the shape of poetical feeling, as contrary to all fact, and in utter discordance with the morose spirit of their sect; and, with Hogg, I objected, not merely to the spirit of his ballad compositions, but also to the uncouth shape, so far as orthography is concerned, in which they had appeared in Blackwood and Frazer. Upon these points, as you say in the North country, there was much argle-bargling. Cunninghame was open to conviction, but Hogg fenced off. It's easy," quoth the Shepherd, "for you, and the like o' you, that are nae poyets, to pick out fauts, but juist do what I hae dune, and then we'll alloo you to cavil, my Billy." If so were the case, was my rejoinder, then there was an end of criticism altogether-there would be no distinction between the respective realms of genius and taste. "Neither there should," said the Shepherd, "and be dd till ye; for the twa gang hand in hand like bride and bridegroom, lad and lass, a' the warld ower." To this proposition I of course objected, and claimed for the discriminative faculty, an existence separate and distinct from that of the creative, and contended that, although they might be found harmoniously blended in one individual, they were very far from being frequently so; and, having a few illustrative cases in point upon my finger ends, where shocking bad taste was found lying abed, with undeniable genius, I think I had the advantage of the Shepherd in argument. In fact, I quoted some few passages from his own writings, which he had forgotten, saying merely they were from the pen of a celebrated living author, and, after obliging him to confess that they were unco clumsy, but deevilish clever," I announced name and surname, to his infinite discomfiture.

66

But, passing from these things, said I, why is it that you will persist in your present atrocious system of orthography? It is neither Scottish nor English of any period. Why do you not, since you affect this antique form, recur to classical models, and make your compositions smack of a critical acquaintance with your own vernacular? At present you and a herd of imitators after yon, have clad yourselves with the castoff raiments of poor Chatterton! stitched and tagged together with the thread of your own conceits. If you must write Scottish, in heaven's name give us the language of Winton, of Barbour, of Douglas, Dunbar, Lindsay, or even some more recent author, but do not seek to impose upon the world with an unmeaning concatenation of letters, which belong to every age, and yet no age, which are merely the chance arrangement of the moment, without any system, and are only calculated to throw difficulties in the way of the reader, without powdering over, at least, to the intelligent eye, your ballads with the dust of hoar antiquity. Against this general charge the Shepherd defended himself fiercely. He, however, admitted, that it was not the first time that he had been challenged upon the same score, although he would not yield to its justice. "I maun hae my ain way in spellin', as in ither things," quoth the Shepherd, almost demolishing the table with a heavy thwack of his brawny fist. Turning to Allan Cunninghame, he continued, "D'ye mind, Allan, the nicht that we were at Abbotsfuird, when the samen thing came abune board, and when gude Sir Walter took the same view of it as this birkie doesand d'ye mind the ballat we three made to be in imitation, o' a genuine auld ballat o' the north countrie, baith in speerit and language?" I do, said Allan. "You'll mind that it was agreed amang us, that the sang suld hae an owercum either the first line o' an aulder sang, or a proverb, to make it correspond wi' sum o' our ain ancient ballats, or the ballats o' the Danes and Norwegians." Well do I remember that social and instructive evening, said Cunninghame, and as well do I recollect that Sir Walter acted as "Adam Scrivener," and said, that he would garnish it in classical Scottish,

and that as a sort of crambo verses, each of us contributed line about. I really would like to see what sort of stuff we three made of it."

"Made of it," exclaimed the Shepherd, "Lord, man! I hae the indentical ballat in my pouch. I brocht it up aither to gie to Jerdan, wha ye ken, is aften eneuch imposed upon wi' what are ca'd auncient pieces; or else to gie't to Frazer, as a piece o' my ain. It will do fine for an article in his Magazine." With that, Hogg pulled out of his pocket, a sheet of foolscap; and, having expressed some curiosity to see it, he handed it over to me with these words, "keep it till the morn, my laud; ye'll see what We poyets and antiquarians can do when we like. Od, maun, I nailit baith Sir Walter and Allan there, wi' lines o' auld sangs and proverbial sayings innoomerable. Nane o' them could haud the caunil to me in that line,-I was sic an oracle."

I fobbed the wonderful production, took it home with me, and, having nothing else to fill up my sheet, I transcribe it for your use, well aware that you will take as much pleasure as I do in the learned pastimes of men of genius. It is a literary curiosity of a sort. Yours, &c.

ELFINLAND WUD.

Erl William has muntit his gude grai stede,
(Merrie lemis mundlicht on the sea,)
And graithit him in ane cumli weid.
(Swa bonnilie blumis the hawthorn tree.)
Erl William rade, Erl William ran-
Fast thay ryde quha luve trewlie—
Quhyll the Elfinland wud that gude Erl wan-
Blink ower the burn, sweit may, to mee.
Elfinland wud is dern and dreir,

Merrie is the grai gowkis sang,
Bot ilk ane leafis quhyt as silver cleir,
Licht makis schoirt the road swa lang.

It is undirneth ane braid aik tree,

Hey and a lo, as the leavis grow grein,
Thair is kythit ane bricht ladie.

Manie flowris blume quhilk ar ̧nocht seen.
Around hir slepis the quhyte muneschyne,
Meik is mayden under kell,
Hir lips bin lyke the blude reid wyne.

The rois of flowris hes sweitest smell.
It was al bricht quhare that ladie stude,
Far my luve, fure ower the sea.

Bot dern is the lave of Elfinland wud.

The knicht pruvit false that ance luvit me.
The ladie's handis were quhyte als milk,
Ringis my luve wore mair nor ane.
Hir skin was safter nor the silk,
Lilly bricht schinis my luvis halse bane.

Save you, save you, fayr ladie,
Gentil hert schawis gentil deed.
Standand alane undir this auld tree;
Deir till knicht is nobil steid.

Burdalane, if ye dwall here,

My hert is layd upon this land.
I wuld like to live your fere.
The schippis cum sailin to the strand.

Never ane word that ladie sayd;
Schortest rede hes least till mend.
Bot on hir harp she evir playd.

Thare nevir was mirth that had nocht end.

Gang ye eist, or fare ye wast,

Ilka stern blinkis blythe for thee,
Or tak ye the road that ye like best.
Al trew feeris ryde in cumpanie.
Erl William lentit doun full lowe;
Luvis first seid bin courtesie.
And swung hir owir his saddil bow.

Ryde quha listis, ye'll link with mee.
Scho flang her harp on that auld tre,

The wynd pruvis aye ane harpir gude.
And it gave out its music free.

Birdis sing blythe in gay green wud.
The harp playde on its leeful lane,
Lang is my luvis yellow hair.
Quhill it has charmit stock and stane.
Furth by firth, deir lady fare.

Quhan scho was muntit him bebynd,

Blyth be hertis quhilkis luve ilk uthir.
Awa thai flew lyke flaucht of wind.

Kin kens kin, and bairnis thair mither.

Nevir ane word that ladie spak;

Mim be maydens men besyde.

Bot that stout steid did nicher and schaik.
Smal thingis humbil hertis of pryde.
About his breist scho plet her handis;
Luvand be maydins quhan thai lyke.
Bot thay were cauld as yron bandis.

The winter bauld bindis sheuch and syke. Your handis ar cauld, fayr ladie, sayd hee, The caulder hand the trewer hairt.

I trembil als the leif on the tree.
Licht caussis muve ald friendis to pairt.
Lap your mantil owir your heid,

My luve was clad in the reid scarlett,
And spredd your kirtil owir my stede.
Thair nevir was joie that had nae lett.
The ladie scho wald nocht dispute;

Nocht woman is scho that laikis ane tung.
Bot caulder hir fingeris about him cruik.
Sum sangis ar writt, bot nevir sung.
This Elfinland wud will neir haif end.
Hunt quha listis, daylicht for mee.

I wuld I culd ane strang bow bend.
Al undirneth the grene wud tree.

Thai rade up, and they rade doun,

Wearilie wearis wan nicht away.

Erl William's heart mair cauld is grown.
Hey, luve mine, quhan dawis the day?
Your hand lies cauld on my breist bane.
Smal hand hes my ladie fair,
My horss he can nocht stand his lane.
For caullness of this midnicht air.

Erl William turnit his heid about;
The braid mune schinis in lift richt cleir.
Twa Elfin een are glentin owt.

My luvis een like twa sternis appere.
Twa brennand eyne, sua bricht and full,
Bonnilie blinkis my ladeis ee.
'Flang fire flauchts fra ane peelit skull.
Sum sichts ar ugsomlyk to see.

Twa rawis of qubyt teeth then did say,
Cauld the boysteous windis sal blaw.
Oh, lang and weary is our way.
And donkir yet the dew maun fa'.
Far owir mure, and far owir fell,
Hark the sounding huntsmen thrang.
Thorow dingle, and thorow dell,

Luve, come, list the merlis sang.
Thorow fire, and thorow flude,
Mudy mindis rage lyk a sea,
Thorow slauchter, thorow blude,

A seamless shrowd weird schaipis for me!

And to rede aricht my spell,

Eerilie sal nicht wyndis moan. Qubill fleand Hevin & raikand Hell. Ghaist with ghaist maun wandir on.

MORAL TALES FROM THE PERSIAN.-No. I.

THE VISION OF ABDALLAH.

I was seated in my chamber, in mine own house, in the great city of Balsora. Darkness covered the land and silence reigned in my habitation. The night was far gone, but the hand of affliction was upon me, and sleep was banished from my couch. And I said unto myself, what hath been done by me, or by my father's house, that I should be thus grievously afflicted? Youth is mine, but my strength is wasted. Riches are mine, but they cannot purchase for me an hour of peaceful slumber, or assuage, for one moment, the acuteness of my sufferings. Kindred and and friends have been given unto me, but their words have lost their sweetness—their presence is a burden unto me. Why should length of days be desired by helpless man? He is the creaturethe very sport of circumstances. Would to God I had never lived! Would to God I were mingled with the ashes of my fathers!

And, in the anguish of my soul, and the exceeding soreness of

my disease, I repined against the decrees of the Most High, and wept bitterly.

Whilst I was thus giving utterance unto my sorrows, my chamber was suddenly filled with a light, pure and soft as the pallid beams of the moon. Lifting up mine eyes, a celestial being Her flowing robes were of a dazzling

Fear

was manifested unto me. whiteness, and her countenance, lovely beyond that of the daughters of our race, was resplendent with grace and majesty. came upon me, and I fell upon the ground, covering my face with my hands. The Genius raised me up, and, with a look of much benignity and compassion, said unto me, "Fear not, young man-re-assume thyself, and hearken unto my words. I am Zulitza, and I have heard your griefs. Murmur not that thou art unable to scan the universe, or to penetrate the grand designs of the Most High. The creature must be inferior to its Creator. Beings of the highest order wonder and admire; and, unless thou thinkest the Most High ought to have made thee equal unto himself, thou hast no cause for impeaching the divine administration. Thou holdest the appointed place in the scale of beings, and, so far from complaining, thou oughtest to rejoice that thou art what thou art-that the Most High hath conferred upon thee the great and dignified honor of being an instrument—and man is not a mean one, in the accomplishment of his vast purposes.

"Neither oughtest thou to murmur that afflictions and disappointments are scattered over the path of life. Thou knowest not, and canst not know, the designs of infinity, but, be assured, that nothing takes place in the government of the universe, from which lessons of instruction may not be drawn by thee or by thy fellow men.

Without presuming to conjecture the cause or object of thy particular affliction, it is admirably calculated to produce many and lasting advantages.

"Do not the children of thy race often make a false estimate of the things of this world? Thy situation is well fitted to make thee see them in their proper light.

“The pride of the human heart too frequently maketh man forget the Most High. And well bath it been said by the inspired poet of another clime, that man, vain man, plays such antic tricks, in the face of High Heaven, as make the angels weep. Let thy present affliction teach thee self-knowledge and humility. Let it also teach thee to look forward to, and prepare for thy future state of being.

"Thou art weak and helpless-thou art dependent upon the sympathies of others. My son, learn from this, brotherly kindness and much charity.

"And when thou reflectest upon the goodness of the Most High, and upon the utter insufficiency, in thyself or others, to exempt thee from the ills of life, be taught, my son, the sacred duty of resignation.

“Nor are these all the consequences of thy present state. It is calculated to draw forth the affections and tender sympathies of thy kindred and friends, and to lead them, though perhaps, in a limited degree, to the exercise of those reflections and the practice of those virtues which are enforced by thine affliction upon thyself."

The Geuius ceased to speak. The light of truth penetrated my inmost soul. I lifted up my streaming eyes. I was alone and in darkness. Zulitza had vanished, and the halo of her glory had ceased to illumine mine apartment.

LITERARY NOTICE.

MEMOIRS OF CELEBRATED FEMALE SOVEREIGNS. By Mrs. Jame-
2 Vols.
SON, Authoress of the Diary of an Ennuyée, &c.
Colburn and Bentley, London, 1831.

THIS is one of the few works which have, of late, issued from the great book manufactory of Burlington Street, that is destined to outlive the year in which it has been born. The object of the writer has been, to present, in a small compass, an idea of the influence which a female government has had, generally, on men and nations, and of the influence which the possession of power has had, individually, on the female character, and in both, we are bound to say, that we think she has been singularly suceessful. After perusing the lives here given of the most celebrated Female Sovereigns that ever held rule in the world, we are forced, in spite of all our obsequiousness to the fair, honestly to confess, that Madame Roland's opinion is founded in truth,—that “women were formed to beautify the world, rather than to command it ;" that, in fact, instead of the rule of women being found to be one of benevolence, peace, and moderation, it has been quite the contrary-for, among the most arbitrary governments on record, are those of women. Where can we find for example, in the whole annals of despotism, an individual more tyrannical, cruel, and unjust, than that of Catherine II. of Russia—an individual who presents herself to the fancy more like an ogress or a fury, grim, foul, and horrible, than any thing feminine and human? What, again, do we find in the character of CHRISTINA of Sweden, but one continued contradiction? Destitute of virtue, or common sense, her sex, her learning and her splendid situation, only served to render her more conspicuously wretched, ridiculous, and pitiable. As a woman, she passed through life without loving or being loved, and, as a Queen, she sank into a grave uncrowned, unhonoured, and unlamented. And, when we look nearer home, do we not discover, in the history of our own female Sovereigns, distinct and satisfactory evidence of what we consider an important axiom, that, as nature never destined women to fight and to carry arms, it is only fair to hold, that those who cannot defend themselves are neither fitted for command nor for sovereignty! Grace and adulation are so necessary to a being whose real empire is founded on love, that neither morality, nor policy, will prevent women from attaching the highest value to this trifling distinction. We are confident, that not a single person of twenty years of age, in possession of real beauty, would consent (if the exchange were possible) to part with it for the acquisition of a throne. And in a Sovereign, what pernicious results may arise from this weakness! It was, in fact, the rivalry of face and of feminine charms which decided England's GOOD QUEEN BESS to violate all the rights of hospitality, of justice, and of royalty, and to doom her unfortunate rival MARY, at the close of a nineteen years' captivity, to perish on a scaffold!

As a contribution to English Biography, this work, by Mrs. Jameson, is, indeed, well worthy of the patronage of the public. It is written in a fine, pure and flowing style, and is totally free from that disgusting affectation of Gallic-English now so prevalent among our modern writers.

GLASGOW GOSSIP.

AMONG the odd variety of English dialects and idioms for which our good city is celebrated, the following arrested our attention at the Broomielaw:

"Vessels who wants Water to apply at the Tonnage Office."

This notice is affixed to the pump-well at the foot of York Street and is well worthy of the attention of the Water Baillie.

There is much talk, in the east end of the city, regarding the Musical Assembly, after the manner of the famous Mille Colonnes at Paris, which takes place nightly in Mr. MORGAN'S, London Street. The crowds that are seen pouring in about eight o'clock prove that the manner of passing an evening on the Continent may be relished even in Glasgow. We purpose giving an account of this Assembly in an early Number.

FINE ARTS.

A MEETING of the Royal Academy is summoned early in February, to elect a member in the room of James Northcote. Newton, Allan, and Briggs are spoken of as the most likely to be put in nomination. Some members will, no doubt, vote for Elias Martin: though this veteran has, for many years, it is believed, been in the bosom of St. Luke; still he is kept at the head of the list of Associates; and, when a person is put up to whom any Academician is averse, he bestows his vote on Elias. Wilkie has now finished his great picture of "Knox preaching at St. Andrew's, to the utter confusion of the Romish hierarchy :" he is about, it is said, to try his hand on an English Reformation picture, and a scene from the Life of Cranmer has been selected.

KING'S THEATRE, LONDON.

ABOUT the close of this month, the Opera House will open, when the following are among the musical works which are proposed to be represented :-The Esule di Roma,' and Olivo e Pasquale' of Donizetti- La Straniera' of Bellini- Il Demetrio e Polibi' of Rossini, being the first production of his pen; with, perhaps, the Armida' or Ermione' of the same authorL'Alfredo' of Mayer- Il Sansone' of the celebrated Professor Basily, now President of the Imperial Conservatory of Music at Milan- La Vestale' of Spontini-' L'Annibale in Bettinia' of Niccolini La Sylvana' of Weber- Il Matrimonio per raggiro' of Cimarosa--the Maometto' of Winter-and L'Idomeneo, Rè di Creta' of Mozart. In addition to the above, the celebrated opera of Robert le Diable' has been purchased, and, with the original performers from the Academie Royale at Paris, will be produced under the immediate direction of its great author, Meyerheer. On this occasion, an overture, which has hitherto been wanting, will be composed by him, and no exertion or expense avoided to render the whole the most perfect entertainment possible. The Esule di Granata' of the same author, will at the same time, be brought out, under his direction, the entire of the second act being re-written for the occasion: La Dame Blanche,' translated into Italian, will likewise be represented by the performers of the Academie Royale, and M. Boieldieu, the author, it is expected, will add to its interest, and ensure its success, by his presence. Offers have been likewise held out to the celebrated Maestro Paër, to attend at the representation of his most favoured work, Sargino,' which the Director has reason to believe will not be refused.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

LADY CHARLOTTE BURY will shortly present to the public a Poem, entitled, "Some Account of the three Great Sanctuaries of Tuscany Valombrosa, Camaldoli, and Laverna."

Mr. Horace Smith has a new Novel in the press, entitled, Romance of the Early Ages.

The Memoirs of the celebrated Duchesse de St. Leu, ExQueen of Holland, are nearly ready for publication.

A Numismatic Manual, or Guide to the Study of Ancient and Modern Coins, by John G. Akerman, is in the Press.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"The Smuggler" has been received, and will be submitted to the consideration of the Board.

The "Largs Regatta, No. 4," will appear on Tuesday.

The writer of stanzas "To Alison" is so deeply in love, that, perhaps, we may afford his fair one an opportunity of judging of his devotion, when our Poet's Corner is relieved from the many demands that are at present made upon it.

The communication of" Civis" will suit the regular newspapers better than our Journal.

"R. P.'s" Lines will probably find a place in to morrow's Number.

"Confessions of a Burker, No. 3," early next week.

"A Pretty Cap for the Pretty Head which it fits meetest" by the Author of " Wake, Lady, wake!" will appear on Tuesday.

In order to insure this Publication being on the Breakfast Table every morning, it is requested that intending Subscribers will leave their names and addresses at the Publisher's.