JEAN ELLIOT. 1727-1805. 66 One of the old Scots ladies of good family, whose presence was a typical feature of society in Edinburgh during the last twenty years of the eighteenth century, was Miss Jean Elliot. Her residence was in Brown Square, then the fashionable quarter. There she kept up some state, being remarked, among greater things, for the fact that she kept her own sedan-chair. She was the only lady in Edinburgh who did so. Riddels Carr, in his Border Memories, describes her, perhaps at a somewhat earlier date, as possessing a sensible face, and a slender, wellshaped figure. In manner grave, and reserved to strangers, she had high aristocratic notions which she took no pains to conceal." The high breeding on which she prided herself was not, however, all in name. On at least one occasion she had proved herself a woman of character and courage. During the Rebellion of 1745 her father was one of the law officers of the Crown, and when the Jacobite army came to Edinburgh a detachment was sent to seize him. In this crisis it is recorded that she "received and entertained the officers, and by her presence of mind and composure averted the danger." Third daughter of Sir Gilbert Elliot, second baronet of Minto and one of the Lords of Session, the authoress of "The Flowers o' the Forest came of a poetic family, for her father and her brother both wrote verse. The circumstances of the composition of her famous and only song are well known. One evening, about the year 1756, she was riding home after nightfall in a carriage with her brother Gilbert to Minto House. At dinner some mention had been made of Flodden, and someone had quoted the refrain of an old, forgotten lament on the subject, "The Flowers o' the Forest are a' wede awa'." This, her brother suggested, would make a suitable subject for a song. And there, leaning back in the carriage as it rolled along the dark roads, she composed her ballad. The immediate subject of the piece, of course, is the fall of the "Seventy of Selkirk " with James IV. on Flodden Field. The first and last lines, as well as the beautiful, pathetic air to which it is sung, are ancient. The rest is Miss Jean Elliot's composition. When it first appeared, the entire composition was supposed to be antique, and some confusion was introduced into the question by Herd, who included Miss Elliot's, along with Mrs. Cockburn's stanzas with the same title, in a long, single ballad. This, however, is of obviously modern make-up. Miss Jean Elliot was born at Minto House, in Teviotdale, and died at Mount Teviot, Roxburghshire, then the residence of her brother, Admiral Elliot. THE FLOWERS O' THE FOREST. I'VE heard them lilting at the ewe-milking, But now there is moaning in ilka green loaning1; I lane. 2 weeded away. At buchts3 in the morning nae blythe lads are 3 sheepfolds. scorning 4; Lasses are lanely and dowie and wae; 4 rallying. Nae daffin', nae gabbin's, but sighing and sabbing; 5 No joking, no Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away. chatting. 6 milk-pail. 8 reaping. In hairst at the shearing3 nae youths now are jeering; ? harvest. At fair or at preaching nae wooing, nae fleeching11 2 At e'en in the gloaming nae younkers are roaming But ilk maid sits dreary, lamenting her dearie- 9 Sheaf-binders. 10 wrinkled and turning grey. II coaxing. Dule and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border! The English for ance by guile wan the day; The flowers o' the forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay. We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking, JOHN LAPRAIK. 1727-1807. When Johnson was publishing his Scots Musical Museum, one of the songs sent to him by Burns was "When I upon thy bosom lean." The poet had heard it sung at a country "rockin'," and he was so struck with its merits that he forthwith opened a poetic correspondence with its author. To this correspondence, and to the one fine song, is owed the memory of John Lapraik. An account of Lapraik's life is given in Ayrshire Contemporaries of Burns. For several generations his forbears had owned the lands of Dalfram, in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk, and for the first forty years of his life Lapraik himself enjoyed their possession. The failure, however, of "that villanous bubble, the Ayr Bank," involved him, with many others of the landholders of Ayrshire, in ruin. In turn he tried milling and farming, without success; and in his last days he supported himself and his family by keeping a small publichouse and the village post office in Muirkirk. In 1785, when Burns knew him, he had sold his estate, and was the miller at Muirsmill; and no doubt fully deserved the description of "bauld Lapraik, the king o' hearts," bestowed on him by his illustrious contemporary. It was while imprisoned for debt in Ayr gaol, a few years previously, that Lapraik composed his fine lyric. In 1788, inspired by the example and success of Burns, he gathered together and published, at Kilmarnock, a collection of his pieces, including this song among others. In the volume it wears an English dress, and moves somewhat more stiffly than the Museum version, but whether the finer touches of the latter are due to Burns, or to Lapraik himself, or to the improvements of oral transmission, it is impossible to say. As it stands in the Museum it remains one of the few finest lyrics of wedded happiness in the language. WHEN I UPON THY THY BOSOM LEAN. WHEN I upon thy bosom lean, And fondly clasp thee a' my ain, I glory in the sacred ties That made us ane, wha ance were twain. The tender look, the melting kiss; Ha'e I a wish? it's a' for thee, And aye when weary cares arise, Thy bosom still shall be my hame. I'll lay me there and tak' my rest; And beg her not to drap a tear. Ha'e I a joy? its a' her ain. United still her heart and mine; They're like the woodbine round the tree, That's twined till death shall them disjoin. |
