Hear also Dr. Waddell’s translation of the last four verses of the 52nd chapter of Isaiah, they are inexpressibly beautiful:—
“Blythe and brak-out, lilt a’ like ane, ye bourocks sae swak o’ Jerusalem; for the Lord He has hearten’d His folk fu’ kin’; He has e’en boucht back Jerusalem.
“The Lord He rax’d yont His hailie arm, in sight o’ the nations mony, O; an’ ilk neuk o’ the yirth sal tak tent an’ learn the health o’ our God sae bonie, O!
“Awa, awa, clean but frae the toun: mak nor meddle wi’ nought that’s roun’; awa frae her bosom; haud ye soun’, wi’ the gear o’ the Lord forenent ye!
“For it’s no wi’ sic pingle ye’se gang the gate; nor it’s no wi’ sic speed ye maun spang the spate; for the Lord, He’s afore ye, ear’ an’ late; an’ Israel’s God, He’s ahint ye!”
These suggest “The Lord’s Prayer intill Auld Scottis,” as printed by Pinkerton, and which is cast in more antique form still:—“Uor fader quhilk beest i’ Hevin, Hallowit weird thyne nam. Cum thyne kinrik. Be dune thyne wull as is i’ Hevin, sva po yerd. Uor dailie breid gif us thilk day. And forleit us our skaths, as we forfeit tham quha skath us. And leed us na intill temtation. Butan fre us fra evil. Amen.”
No writer of any time—Burns alone excepted—has handled the native tongue to better purpose for the expression of every feeling of the human heart than has Sir Walter Scott; and in Jeanie Deans’ plea to the Queen for her sister’s life there is the finest example of simple pathos, dashed with the passion of hope struggling with despair, that is to be met with anywhere in literature. It shows the extent in this way of which the native speech is capable.
“My sister—my puir sister Effie, still lives, though her days and hours are numbered! She still lives, and a word o’ the King’s mouth might restore her to a heart-broken auld man, that never, in his daily and nightly exercise, forgot to pray that His Majesty might be blessed with a lang an’ a prosperous reign, and that his throne, and the throne o’ his posterity, might be established in righteousness. O, madam, if ever ye kend what it was to sorrow for and with a sinning and a suffering creature, whase mind is sae tossed that she can be neither ca’d fit to live or dee, hae some compassion on our misery! Save an honest house from dishonour, and an unhappy girl, not eighteen years of age, from an early and dreadful death! Alas! it is not when we sleep saft and wake merrily oursel’s that we think on other people’s sufferings. Our hearts are waxed light within us then, and we are for righting our ain wrangs and fighting our ain battles. But when the hour of trouble comes to the mind or to the body—and seldom may it visit your leddyship—and when the hour of death comes, that comes to high and low—lang and late may it be yours!—oh, my leddy, then it isna what we hae dune for oursel’s, but what we hae done for others, that we think on maist pleasantly. And the thought that ye hae intervened to spare the puir thing’s life will be sweeter in that hour, come when it may, than if a word o’ your mouth could hang the haill Porteous mob at the tail o’ a’e tow.”