Written on reading the “Harper of Mull,” a Highland story.
Set to Music by Mr. R. A. Smith.
1806.
WHEN Rosie was faithfu, how happy was I,
Still gladsome as simmer the time glided by ;
I play'd my harp cheery, while fondly I sang
O the charms o my Rosie the winter nichts lang.
But now I'm as waefu as waefu can be,
Come simmer, come winter, tis a ane tae me :
For th' dark gloom o falsehood sae clouds my sad soul,
That cheerless for aye is the Harper o Mull.
I wander the glens an the wild woods alane,
In their deepest recesses I mak my sad mane ;
My harp's mournfu melody joins in the strain,
While sadly I sing o the days that are gane.
Tho Rosie is faithless, she's no the less fair,
An the thocht o her beauty but feeds my despair ;
Wi painfu remembrance my bosom is full,
An weary o life is the Harper o Mull.
As slumb'ring I lay by the dark mountain stream,
My lovely young Rosie appear'd in my dream ;
I thocht her still kind, an' I ne'er was sae blest,
As in fancy I clasp'd the dear nymph tae my breast.
Thou fause fleetin vision, too sune thou wert o'er !
Thou wak'dst me tae tortures unequall'd before ;
But death's silent slumbers my griefs sune shall lull,
An the green grass wave o'er the Harper o Mull.
William M‘Laren in his Life of Tannahill, 1815, mentions that, at a convivial meeting, a dispute arose between the Poet and another person present regarding the chastity of the fair sex and fidelity after marriage. The opponent referred to several eases of unfaithfulness, and particularly the infidelity of Rosie and the sorrows of the Harper of Mull. The Bard, in a few days, presented his friends with the beautiful song known by that name. The original story occupied many pages of an Edinburgh periodical called the Bee; and so far as the Biographer could recollect of reading it in his boyish days, it is briefly thus :—In the island of Mull lived a harper, conspicuous for nothing so much as his exquisite performance on that instrument, and his attachment to a lovely rosy-cheeked nymph, who was esteemed by the inhabitants of the island as the sweetest object ever formed by the hand of nature. As the harper was universally esteemed and admired for his sprightly appearance, and the affectionate simplicity of his manners, he soon gained the heart of his Rosie, and in a few weeks after he made her his bride. Soon after the nuptial ceremony was performed, he set out on a visit to some low country friends, accompanied by Rosie and his harp, which had been a companion to him in all his journies for many years. Overtaken by the shades of night, in a solitary part of the country, a cold and shivering faintness fell upon Rosie, and she sank almost lifeless into the harper's arms. His tartan plaid he unbound from his arm, and hastily wrapped it round her shivering frame, but the cold sweat still gathered on her cheek. Distracted and alarmed, he hurried from place to place, in search of fuel to revive the dying ember of life. None could be found. His harp lay carelessly on the grass. Its neglected strings vibrated to the blast. The harper loved it dear as his own life, but he loved his Rosie better than either. His nervous arms were applied to its sides, and in a few minutes it lay crackling on the heath. Rosie soon revived, and resumed her journey as soon as morning began to purple the east. Stepping down the sloping side of a hill, they were met by a hunter on horseback, who addressed Rosie in the style of an old and familiar friend. The harper, innocent himself, and unsuspicious of others, paced slowly down the hill. Wondering at his Rosie's delay, he turned round and saw the faithless fair seated on the hunter's steed. The horse flew swift as the wind. The harper, transfixed in astonishment, gazed at them. Then pacing heavily home, he, sighing, exclaimed—“Fool that I was to burn my harp for her.”
Note by Ramsay.—“The story on which these verses are founded, may be thus abridged. In the island of Mull, &c.” He only took out a few words from M‘Laren's narrative, and finished with the contraction.— Ed.
Tannahill said the song was written on his reading “The Harper of Mull,” a Highland story. M‘Laren stated that allusion had been made to the story in a discussion, which he gave as near as he could from his own recollection of the circumstances. Ramsay comes next, commencing his Note with “In the island of Mull, &c.,”—taking out a few words of M‘Laren's narrative, and passing off the remainder as a Note composed by himself. They all seem to have been making a “mull” of the harper. We are, however, inclined to believe the statement of Tannahill himself, for he had a copy of the Bee in his library. It was a small Edinburgh periodical, edited by James Anderson, LL.D., and was commenced on 22nd December, 1790. “ ‘The Harper of Mull,’ a tale written in the year 1730, never before printed,” will be found in Vol. III., page 233, June 15, 1791. The story was related by a native to Dr. Garnet, Professor in the Andersonian Institution of Glasgow, when in the island of Mull, and he inserted it in his “Tour to the Hebrides in 1800.” Hector Macneil, a popular poet, born in 1746, published his poem “The Harp,” containing fifty-six stanzas, on 15th April, 1789, relating the foregoing tale in verse, with a little variation of the traditions. In his preface, he stated that Mr. Ramsay of Auchtertyre while on a tour in the Hebrides heard the tale. Macneil, in his poem, changed the scene to Saint Kilda ; and he called the harper “Coll,” and his wife “Mora,” In 1807, an “Historical enquiry respecting the performance on the Harp in the Highlands of Scotland till 1734, drawn up by John Gunn, F.S.A.,” was published ; and the tale of the “Harper of Mull” was introduced thus:—“The summit of a steep hill near Moy Castle, the seat of the Macleans of Lochbay, in the Island of Mull, is called Madhm na Tiompan, or the Harper's Pass ; and was so named from a remarkable incident that happened on that summit, which the natives relate to the following purpose.” The abridged narrative of M‘Laren relates the purport so well that we will not require to repeat it. Mr. Gunn, in a Note in his book, says—“Mr. Macneil has told me that he now regrets his having departed so much in his poem from the traditional story.”—Ed.
[Semple 107]