But here I must pause. Shall I be breaking my promise of not a word of Scotch in my story, if I give the song? True it is not a part of the story exactly, but it is in it. If my reader would like the song, he must have it in Scotch or not at all. I am not going to spoil it by turning it out of its own natural clothes into finer garments to which it was not born—I mean by translating it from Scotch into English. The best way will be this: I give the song as something extra—call it a footnote slipped into the middle of the page. Nobody needs read a word of it to understand the story; and being in smaller type and a shape of its own, it can be passed over without the least trouble.
|
SONG
Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the yorlin[1] sings, Wi’ a clip o’ the sunshine atween his wings; Whaur the birks[2] are a’ straikit wi’ fair munelicht, And the broom hings its lamps by day and by nicht; Whaur the burnie comes trottin’ ower shingle and stane, Liltin’ [3] bonny havers[4] til ‘tsel alane; And the sliddery[5] troot, wi’ ae soop o’ its tail, Is awa’ ‘neath the green weed’s swingin’ veil! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur I sang as I saw The yorlin, the broom, an’ the burnie, an’ a’! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the primroses wonn, Luikin’ oot o’ their leaves like wee sons o’ the sun; Whaur the wild roses hing like flickers o’ flame, And fa’ at the touch wi’ a dainty shame; Whaur the bee swings ower the white clovery sod, And the butterfly flits like a stray thoucht o’ God; Whaur, like arrow shot frae life’s unseen bow, The dragon-fly burns the sunlicht throu’! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur I sang to see The rose and the primrose, the draigon and bee! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the mune luiks doon, As gin she war hearin’ a soundless tune, Whan the flowers an’ the birds are a’ asleep, And the verra burnie gangs creepy-creep; Whaur the corn-craik craiks in the lang lang rye, And the nicht is the safter for his rouch cry; Whaur the wind wad fain lie doon on the slope, And the verra darkness owerflows wi’ hope! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur, silent, I felt The mune an’ the darkness baith into me melt. Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the sun luiks in, Sayin’, Here awa’, there awa’, baud awa’, sin! Wi’ the licht o’ God in his flashin’ ee, Sayin’, Darkness and sorrow a’ work for me! Whaur the lark springs up on his ain sang borne, Wi’ bird-shout and jubilee hailin’ the morn; For his hert is fu’ o’ the hert o’ the licht, An’, come darkness or winter, a’ maun be richt! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the sun luikit in, Sayin’, Here awa’, there awa’, hand awa’, sin. Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur I used to lie Wi’ Jeanie aside me, sae sweet and sae shy! Whaur the wee white gowan wi’ reid reid tips, Was as white as her cheek and as reid as her lips. Oh, her ee had a licht cam frae far ‘yont the sun, And her tears cam frae deeper than salt seas run! O’ the sunlicht and munelicht she was the queen, For baith war but middlin’ withoot my Jean. Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur I used to lie Wi’ Jeanie aside me, sae sweet and sae shy! Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the kirkyard lies, A’ day and a’ nicht, luikin’ up to the skies; Whaur the sheep wauk up i’ the summer nicht, Tak a bite, and lie doon, and await the licht; Whaur the psalms roll ower the grassy heaps, And the wind comes and moans, and the rain comes and weeps! But Jeanie, my Jeanie—she’s no lyin’ there, For she’s up and awa’ up the angels’ stair. Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the kirkyard lies, And the stars luik doon, and the nicht-wind sighs! |
[Footnote 1: The Yellow-hammer.]
[Footnote 2: Birch-trees.]
[Footnote 3: Singing.]
[Footnote 4: Nonsense.]
[Footnote 5: Slippery.]
Elsie’s voice went through every corner of my brain: there was singing in all its chambers. I could not hear the words of the song well enough to understand them quite; but Turkey gave me a copy of them afterwards. They were the schoolmaster’s work. All the winter, Turkey had been going to the evening school, and the master had been greatly pleased with him, and had done his best to get him on in various ways. A friendship sprung up between them; and one night he showed Turkey these verses. Where the air came from, I do not know: Elsie’s brain was full of tunes. I repeated them to my father once, and he was greatly pleased with them.
On this first acquaintance, however, they put me to sleep; and little Jamie Duff was sent over to tell my father what had happened. Jamie gave the message to Mrs. Mitchell, and she, full of her own importance, must needs set out to see how much was the matter.
I was dreaming an unutterably delicious dream. It was a summer evening. The sun was of a tremendous size, and of a splendid rose-colour. He was resting with his lower edge on the horizon, and dared go no farther, because all the flowers would sing instead of giving out their proper scents, and if he left them, he feared utter anarchy in his kingdom before he got back in the morning. I woke and saw the ugly face of Mrs. Mitchell bending over me. She was pushing me, and calling to me to wake up. The moment I saw her I shut my eyes tight, turned away, and pretended to be fast asleep again, in the hope that she would go away and leave me with my friends.