instruct us in his own singular way: he described the excellent temper of his Sheffield whittles; praised the curious qualities of his spectacles, which might enable the wearer to see distant events; and after soothing over some lines of a psalm or hymn common to the Presbyterians, he proceeded to chant the following ballad, of which I regret the loss of several verses:—
THE PEDLAR'S BALLAD.
It is pleasant to sit on green Saddleback top,
And hearken the eagle's cry;
It is pleasant to roam in the bonnie greenwood,
When the stags go bounding by;
And it's merry to sit, when the red wine goes round,
'Mid the poet's sweet song and the minstrel's sweet sound.
It is merry in moonshine to lead down the dance,
To go starting away when the string
Shakes out its deep sound, and the fair maidens fly
Like the sunlight—or birds on the wing;
And it's merry at gloaming, aneath the boughs green,
To woo a young maiden and roam all unseen.
But it's blither by far when the pennon is spread,
And the lordly loud trumpet is pealing,
When the bright swords are out, and the war-courser neighs,
As high as the top of Helvellyn;
And away spurs the warrior, and makes the rocks ring
With the blows that he strikes for his country and king.
Our gallants have sprung to their saddles, and bright
Are the swords in a thousand hands;
I came through Carlisle, and I heard their steeds neigh
O'er gentle Eden's sands.
And seats shall be emptied, and brands shall be wet,
Ere all these gay gallants in London are met.
Lord Maxwell is mounted by winding Nith,
Lord Kenmore by silver Dee;
The blithe lads spur on from the links of the Orr
And Durisdeer's greenwood tree;
And the banners which waved when Judea was won
Are all given again to the glance of the sun.
The Johnstone is stirring in old Annandale,
The Jardine, the Halliday's coming
From merry Milkwater and haunted Dryfe bank,
And Esk, that shall list at the gloaming
The war shout, the yell, and of squadrons the dash,
And gleam to the claymore and carabine's flash.
