Then at Perth.
June, 1804.
LET those who never felt its flame,
Say Friendship is an empty name ;
Such selfish, cold philosophy
For ever I disclaim :
It soothes the soul with grief opprest,
Half cures the care distemper'd breast,
And in the jocund happy hour,
Gives joy a higher zest.
All nature sadden'd at our parting hour,
Winds plaintive howl'd, clouds, weeping, dropt a show'r,
Our fields look'd dead—as if they'd said,
“We ne'er shall see him more.” [1]
Tho fate an fortune threw their darts,
Envying us your high deserts,
They well might tear you from our arms,
But never from our hearts.
When spring buds forth in vernal show'rs,
When summer comes array'd in flow'rs,
Or autumn kind, from Ceres' horn, [2]
Her grateful bounty pours ;
Or bearded winter curls his brow—
I'll often fondly think on you,
And on our happy days and nights
With pleasing backcast view.
If e'er in musing mood ye stray
Alang the banks of classic Tay, [3]
Think on the walks by Stanely Tower,
And sage Gleniffer brae;
Think on our langsyne happy hours,
Spent where the burn wild, rapid, pours,
And o'er the horrid dizzy steep
Dashes her mountain stores ; [4]
Think on our walks by sweet Greenlaw, [5]
By woody hill and birken shaw,
Where nature strews her choicest sweets
To make the landscape braw.
And think on rural Ferguslie,
Its plantins green and flow'ry lee;
Such fairy scenes, tho distant far,
May please the mental e'e.
Yon mentor, Geordie Zimmerman, [6]
Agrees exactly with our plan,
That partial hours of solitude
Exalt the soul of man.
So, oft retir'd from strife and din,
Let's shun the jarring ways of men,
And seek serenity and peace
By stream and woody glen.
But ere a few short summers gae
Your friend will mix his kindred clay,
For fell disease tugs at my breast,
To hurry me away.
Yet while life's bellows bear to blaw,
Till life's last lang-fetch'd breath I draw,
I'll often fondly think on you,
And mind your kindness a'.
Now, fare-ye-well ! still may ye find
A friend congenial to your mind,
To share your joys, and half your woes—
Warm, sympathising, kind.
This Epistle first appeared in Maver's Selector, 1805, Vol. III., page 159. See Note to No. 5.—Ed.
Note by Ramsay.—“James Scadlock, a copperplate engraver, wrote ‘The Scottish Mile,’ and other poems that have been published. In the words of John Struthers, in his ‘Essay on Scottish Song Writers,’ he died, July the 4th, 1818, lamented by his friends, respected by his neighbours, and probably without an enemy in the world.’ ”
[1] This line occurs in an old English Epitaph :—
“Old Grimes is dead, that good old man,
We ne'er shall see him more,
He used to wear a long brown coat
All buttoned down before.”—Ed.
[2] Ceres—in mythology, the goddess of agriculture. Ceres' horn, Cornu¬copia. The Horn of Plenty, an emblem of abundance of cereal crops and all other fruits of bountiful autumn.—Ed.
[3] The classic Tay is one of the principal rivers in Scotland, and Tannahill reminded his friend, then residing in the fair town of Perth, in musing on its banks, to remember their walks of solitude in places around ancient Paisley, endeared to them from their youth. —Ed.
[4] The cascade, or fall of water in Gleniffer, or western branch of the streamlet of Espedair. The best time for enjoying the scene is after a heavy shower of rain.—Ed.
[5] Scadlock was brought up in the Abbey Close of Paisley, and of course his walks were on the east or Newton side of the River Cart. Greenlaw path and Arkleston road would be the walks of solitude in that district. Easter Greenlaw belonged to Mr. Charles Ross, surveyor, who, in 1760, built a house thereon in the Ionic order of architecture. He made a nursery on his lands for fruit and forest trees, and for evergreen and flowering shrubs. He published a map of the county of Renfrew, besides other county maps, and “The Traveller's Guide to Lochlomond, in 1792.” Wester Greenlaw belonged to Robert Corse, Esq., merchant. In 1780 he built a splendid mansion on Greenlaw-hill, after the Corinthian order, and its elevation was given in William Semple's plan of Paisley, published in 1782, and is now possessed by John Morgan, Esq.—Ed.
[6] The familiar Scots orthography of one of the christian names of this foreign author is characteristic of a Paisley weaver. Johann Gorg von Zimmerman, the celebrated author of “Solitude,” was born at Brug, in Switzerland, in 1728, and died at Hanover, in 1775, aged 67.—Ed.
[Semple 21]