By Duncan M‘Neil.
Though days on days and years on years have pass'd
And been into oblivion's waters cast,
The harps hangs on the willows silent still—
The harp once strung by thee, lov'd Tannahill ;
No hand melodious sweeps the silver string,
To make our woods and glens with music ring,
To sing in pathos sweet, of flowery braes,
Of love, of friendship, and their happy days,
With smooth notes stealing o'er the vale and rill,
Like the melodious chants of Tannahill.
Dear to my heart, since childhood's happy days,
Since first I roam'd “Gleniffer's flowery braes,”
Since “Gloomy Winter” first my ear did charm,
And fil I'd my heart with feelings pure and warm ;
The touch of pity—oh ! how dear to me—
That glows and swells in “Bonnie Craigielee ;”
The “Woodlan Burn,” and cozy “Dusky Glen,”
With music thrill my raptured ears again ;
And ever in my soul, till death make still
This heart, thy strains shall dwell, lov'd Tannahill.
Oh ! could I touch thy lyre and catch its strain,
I'd make our glens and woodlands wake again,
And wrap my soul in spells to last for aye
Till woods, and glens, and braes, were swept away ;
Not like the soaring eagle would I steer,
But sing like the low linnet on the brier,
That chants its modest song mid dews and flowers,
By crystal stream and fragrant shady bowers ;
Ye muses I grant my fervent pray'r, and fill
My breast with feelings like lov'd Tannahill.
Duncan M`Neil, baker and poet, was born in Renfrew on 12th December, 1830.—Ed.