Sunday Poetry - Allan Ramsay

I was searching for a poem about cold, bitter weather as a contrast to the very hot week we've had but I couldn't find one in my current anthology, Translated Kingdoms. So, I chose a melancholy Highland lament, Lochaber No More, by Allan Ramsay.
I've been reading a new novel set in a haunted Scottish castle so it's appropriate in that context if not particularly wintery in subject. Here it is set to music & sung by folk band Breabach.The clip includes some gorgeous Scots scenery as well.

Farewell to Lochaber! and farewell, my Jean,   
Where heartsome with thee I hae mony day been;   
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,   
We’ll maybe return to Lochaber no more!   
These tears that I shed they are a’ for my dear,           
And no for the dangers attending on wear,   
Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,   
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.   

Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind,   
They’ll ne’er make a tempest like that in my mind;           
Though loudest of thunder on louder waves roar,   
That’s naething like leaving my love on the shore.   
To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pained;   
By ease that’s inglorious no fame can be gained;   
And beauty and love’s the reward of the brave,           
And I must deserve it before I can crave.   

Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse;   
Since honor commands me, how can I refuse?   
Without it I ne’er can have merit for thee,   
And without thy favor I’d better not be.           
I gae then, my lass, to win honor and fame,   
And if I should luck to come gloriously hame,   
I’ll bring a heart to thee with love running o’er,   
And then I’ll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

Sunday Poetry - Marriages

As I read this poem, The Generous Gentleman, by Allan Ramsay (picture from here) I couldn't help thinking about a book I'm reading at the moment. My 19th century bookgroup is currently reading Jennie Gerhardt by Theodore Dreiser. Dreiser is an author I've been aware of but haven't read until now. His most famous novel is probably Sister Carrie (filmed in the 1950s as Carrie with Jennifer Jones & Laurence Olivier). I've raced ahead & read next week's chapters already & I just wish that Jennie could meet a generous gentleman like the narrator of this poem. She hasn't had much luck so far & she certainly doesn't have the confidence & self-esteem of this young woman. I hope I'm wrong but I think Jennie is headed for more heartbreak.

Allan Ramsay was certainly a talented & multi-skilled man. He was a wig-maker, a bookseller & a librarian as well as a poet. He opened the first circulating library in Scotland & promoted the reading of early Scottish verse. His eldest son was the painter of the same name.

As I came in by Tiviot side,
And by the braes of Branksome,
There first I saw my bonny bride,
Young, smiling, sweet, and handsome:
Her skin was safter than the down,
And white as alabaster;
Her hair a shining, wavy brown;
In straightness nane surpast her.

Life glow'd upon her lip and cheek,
Her clear een were surprising,
And beautifully turn's her neck,
Her little breasts just rising:
Nae silken hose with gushets fine,
Or shoon with glancing laces,
On her fair leg forbad to shine,
Well shapen native graces.


Ae little coat, and bodice white,
Was sum of a' her claithing;-
Even these o'er mickle;- mair delyte
She'd given clad wi' naithing.
She lean'd upon a flow'ry brae,
By which a burnie trotted;
On her I glowr'd my saul away,
While on her sweets I doated.


A thousand beauties of desert
Before had scarce alarm'd me,
Till this dear artless struck my heart,
And but designing, charm'd me.
Hurry'd by love, close to my breast
I grasp'd this fund of blisses;
Wha smil'd, and said, without a priest,
Sir, hope for nought but kisses.


I had nae heart to do her harm,
And yet I couldna want her;
What she demanded, ilka charm
Of her's pled, I should grant her.
Since heaven had dealt to me a routh,
Straight to the kirk I led her,
There plighted her my faith and troth,
And a young lady made her.