SCOTIA’S DIRGE:
BEING
VERSES ON THE DEATH OF JOHN WILSON, Esq.,
THE SCOTTISH VOCALIST,
Who died at Quebec on the 9th July 1849.

Auld Scotia now may sigh aloud,

Her tears in torrents fa’,

Her sweetest harp now hangs unstrung,

Since Wilson’s ta’en awa’.

He sang o’ a’ her warlike deeds,

An’ sons that gallant were—

Her hoary towers, an’ snaw-clad hills,

An’ maidens sweet and fair.

His was a harp o’ thrillin’ sound,

Could pleasure aye impart;

Its melody o’ bygane days

Gaed hame to ilka heart.

Its strains could bring remembrance back

To youthfu’ days at school;

Or mak’ us sigh for Scotia’s wrangs,

An’ Flodden’s day o’ dool.

He sang o’ beauty’s winsome wiles,

In mony a leesome theme,

An’ gather’d by his artless lays

A never-dying name.

While heather blooms on Scotia’s hills,

An’ burnies join the sea,

His aft-applauded “Nichts wi’ Burns”

Will ne’er forgotten be.

Ye gentle maids! a tribute pay

Frae ’mang your Western bowers,

An’ strew the minstrel’s lowly grave

Wi’ summer’s balmy flowers!

Then rest thee, minstrel! Tho’ thy harp

Can noo nae mair be found,

The lovers o’ auld Scotia’s sangs

Can ne’er forget its sound!

Gourdon Schoolhouse. W. J.

Footnotes

[1]Bell’s house, when we leave the road, is midway between Nashville and Louisville, and 90 miles from each city.
[2]In St Louis I saw part of a panorama of the Upper Mississippi, which a French artist named Pomerade has been engaged on for some years, and which he has nearly finished. It is beautifully painted, and must prove very interesting, for he has introduced Indian scenes, customs, &c., and has also machinery which sets the steam-boats agoing, &c. He intends to have four views from the Mammoth Cave as drop-scenes; if he succeeds in giving anything like a faithful representation of them, it will add much to the eclat of his picture.

Transcriber’s Notes