Bird of the wilderness,
Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling place—
O to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
Where on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar singing away!
Then when the gloaming comes
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling place—
O to abide in the desert with thee!
Filled with these pleasant images, we pursue our journey, and wind along the edge of the Pentland Hills, with their thrilling memories of "Auld-lang-syne;" pass the "bonnie braes" of Woodhouselee, and reach old Glencorse Church, "bosomed high 'mong tufted trees;" cross "a bonnie burn," called "Logan Water," and get a glimpse of "House of Muir," in the vicinity of which the old Scottish Covenanters met with a terrible slaughter, from General Dalzell of Binns, the "bluidy Dalzell," as the Scots call him to this day. Passing through the humble village of Silver Burn, we reach Newhall, once the residence of Dr. Pennycuick, a poet and an antiquary, and subsequently of the Forbes family highly distinguished for their talents and virtues. Disposing of our carriage, let us ramble, at our "own sweet will," amid those beautiful grounds. The mansion of Newhall, once a battlemented castle of the Crichtoun family, stands on the left bank of the North Esk, within a curvature of the stream, under the shadow of the Pentland Hills. On either side is a deep ravine, terminating in the glen of the Esk, one of the most romantic spots in Scotland. Passing round on the eastern side, we gaze down into the ravine, overhung by the remains of a small round tower, and densely shaded with tangled trees. A dark rill gurgles at the bottom, here and there leaping into beautiful cascades, and flinging its glittering spray among the dark woods. Passing to the other side, we come to what was formerly the site of an old prison and chapel, encircled by a pleasant walk. The ravine beneath is filled with trees and shrubbery, but has no stream. From this point the eye glances up through the wooded glen, echoing with the songs of the mavis and the linnet, and over to a mineral well, sheltered by copsewood and pines.
But Newhall, and the grounds around it, derive their chief interest from their connection with the well-known pastoral poem of "Allan Ramsay." The very air seems redolent with the poetry of "The Gentle Shepherd." Leaving the house, we reach a little "haugh," or low sheltered spot, where the Esk and the rivulets from the Harbour Craig mingle their waters. At the side of the stream are some romantic gray crags, directly fronting the south, and looking up a turn in the glen. These, adorned with green birches, shrubs, and copsewood, and shading the limpid stream which makes a curve, and then glides underneath their overhanging cliffs, form "a shady bield," completely protected from observation. In this spot is laid the first act of "The Gentle Shepherd."
"Beneath the south side of a craggy field,
Where crystal springs the halesome water yield,
Twa youthful shepherds on the gowans lay,
Tenting their flocks ae bonny morn of May."
Ascending the vale, and just behind the house, we come to a considerable holm or green, with the babbling burn, now gentler in its movement, winding sweetly among the white pebbles. At the head of this quiet retreat, on the edge of the burn, are the ruins of an ancient washing-house, protected by an aged thorn. It was here that the "twa lasses" proposed to wash their "claes," unseen by their lovers.
"A flowery howm between twa verdant braes,
Where lasses use to wash and spread their claes,
A trotting burnie wimpling through the ground;
Its channel pebbles shining smooth and round."
A little further up the burn we come to a hollow, a little beyond what is called "Mary's Bower," where the Esk divides it in the middle, and forms a linn or cascade, called the "How Burn;" a small enclosure above is called the "Braehead Park;" and this hollow beneath the cascade with its bathing pool and little green, its rocks and birches, its wild shrubs and natural flowers, and general air of sequestered and romantic beauty, in every respect corresponds with the poet's exquisite description of the spot called "Habbie's Howe."
"Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's Howe,
Where a' the sweets o' spring and summer grow,
There, 'tween twa birks out ower a little linn,
The water fa's and mak's a singand din;[20]
A pule breast deep, beneath as clear as glass,
Kisses wi' easy whirls the bordering grass."
Ascending yet further, at a place called the "Carlops," (a contraction of "Carline's Loups," so called, in consequence of a witch or carline having been seen leaping, at night, from one rock to another,) two tall rocks shoot up on either side. Near this, by the side of that old ash tree, stood Mause's Cottage.