What strikes one first on looking at the ninety-eight is the variety of their moods and subjects, the versatility of mind they exhibit. There are Jacobite songs; and, what is remarkable in one brought up in Jacobite sentiments and traditions, there are songs of sympathy with Knox, the Covenanters, and the old Scottish Presbyterians and Whigs, the very contradictories of Scottish Jacobitism. Then there are lovesongs, satirical songs, humorous songs and songs of Scottish character and oddity, nonsense songs and songs of philosophic “pawkiness” and good sense, songs of scenery and places, and songs of the most tearful pathos. A few are of a distinctively religious character. Passing from matter or subject to quality, one may say that there is a real moral worth in them all, and that all have that genuine characteristic of a song which consists of an inner tune preceding and inspiring the words, and coiling the words as it were out of the heart along with it. Hence there is not perhaps one of them that, with the advantage they have of being set to known and favourite airs, would not please sufficiently if sung by a good singer. Apart from this general melodiousness or suitability for being sung, the report for all of them might not be so favourable; but, tried by the standard of strict poetic merit, about twenty or twenty-five of the whole number, I should say, might rank as good, while eight or ten of these are of supreme quality. Would not this, though written by a woman, serve for the rallying of a thousand men for any cause, right or wrong?
“The news frae Moidart cam yestreen
Will soon gar mony ferly,
For ships o’ war hae just come in
And landit Royal Charlie.
Come through the heather, around him gather;
Ye’re a’ the welcomer early;
Around him cling wi’ a’ your kin;
For wha’ll be King but Charlie?
Come through the heather, around him gather,