Enter the LAIRD, attended by HARRY.
Laird. Well—how d'ye do, my worthy tenants ; pray,
How fares good Gaffer since I went away?
Gaf. My noble Laird! thanks to the lucky star,
That steer'd you hame, safe thro the storms o war.
Laird. Thanks, honest friend—I know your heart of truth,
But for my safety, thank this gallant youth :
He saved my life—to him I owe my fame,
And gratitude shall still revere his name.
Gaf. May heav'n's post angel swift my blessin's carry!
He saved your life!—preserve me, it is Harry !
Thrice welcome, lad, here—gie's a shake o your paw !
Ye've mended hugely since ye gaed awa.
Harry. Yes, soldiering brushes up a person's frame ;
But, at the heart, I hope I'm still the same.
Gaf. Your promise tae dae weel, I see ye've keepent.
He saved your life ! O tell me how it happent ?
Laird. 'Twas March the eighth, that memorable day,
Our sea-worn troops all weary with delay,
For six long days storm rock'd we lay off shore,
And heard the enemies' guns menacing roar,
At length the wish'd for orders came to land,
And drive the foe back from the mounded strand ;
Then, each a hero, on the decks we stood,
Launch'd out our boats and speeded all we could ;
While clouds of sulph'rous smoke obscur'd the view,
Arid show'rs of grape-shot from their batt'ries flew— [1]
A brother Captain, seated by my side,
Receiv'd a shot—he sunk—he quiver'd—died ;
With friendly hand I closed his life gone eyes,
Our sighs, our tears, were all his obsequies.
Then, as our rowers strove with lengthen'd sweep,
Back from the stern I tumbl'd in the deep,
And sure had perish'd, for each pressing wave
Seem'd emulous to be a soldier's grave ;
Had not this gallant youth, at danger's shrine,
Off'ring his life a sacrifice for mine,
Leap'd from the boat and beat his billowy way,
To where I belch'd and struggl'd in the sea;
With god-like arm sustain'd life's sinking hope,
Till the succeeding rowers pick'd us up.
Gaf. Fair fa your worth, my brave young sodger lad,
Tae see you safe return' d my heart is glad;
Ilk cottar roun will lang your name regaird,
An bless you for your kindness tae the Laird.
[1] The first account that arrived in Britain of the landing of British troops at Aboukir on the coast of Egypt came from France, and we shall quote the news which would then be of such vast interest to the nation, in the brief narrative given in the Scots Magazine for April, 1801, vol. 63, p. 296,—“The Paris journals of the 16th April contain very important accounts from Egypt. Sir Ralph Abercromby appeared off that place on the first day of March, and sailed for Aboukir, where he lay for several days on the account of bad weather ; but on the 8th, at six in the morning, the weather being favourable, he began landing his troops. The French followed him from Alexandria, and posted themselves on the heights of Aboukir to oppose the debarkation. A battle took place from seven till nine in the morning, which must have been very bloody. The English troops were covered by gunboats and other vessels, and the French employed fifteen pieces of cannon on them. After two hours' fighting, the number of the English continually increasing, the French found it necessary to retreat.” In mentioning in a previous note that Sir Ralph Abercromby was killed at the Battle of Alexandria, we should have said he there received his death-wound, and that he died seven days thereafter.—Ed.
The account of the landing and Battle of Aboukir arrived in Paisley on 23rd April, 1801.—Ed.