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I do not give these verses for any merit they have. I composed them at the time at which Patie Allan's mither died; that was the back o' midnight; and by the lee-side of a bowl of punch, which had overset every mortal in the company, except the hautbois and the muse.
"Yell be a bra' fallow, an ye be spared, Patie, but ye'll never never can be what he was to me! He has sailed the coble wi' me since he was ten years auld, and there wasna the like o' him drew a net betwixt this and Buchan-ness. They say folks maun submit I will try." And he had been silent from that moment until compelled to answer the necessary questions we have already noticed.
Foe as he was, I own that I shall never look on his like again. 'I hold with you in that, Patie, said Bishop Kennedy; 'and frown as you may, my young liege, a few years with such as he would do more for you as it did with your blessed father than ever we can.
"Yell be a bra' fallow, an ye be spared, Patie, but ye'll never never can be what he was to me! He has sailed the coble wi' me since he was ten years auld, and there wasna the like o' him drew a net betwixt this and Buchan-ness. They say folks maun submit I will try." And he had been silent from that moment until compelled to answer the necessary questions we have already noticed.
Patrick could not but murmur, 'Dearest brother! 'Ay, like brothers they loved! said Baird, gravely. 'A strange brotherhood, began Drummond. But Malcolm cried, with much agitation, 'Not a word, Patie! You know not what you say. Take heed of profaning the name of one who is gone to the Sion above. 'You turned English, our wee Malcolm! exclaimed Drummond, in amaze.
'And so Lilias must pine, and Patrick wander off to the weary French war, sighed Malcolm; 'and I must be scorned by my cousins whenever the House of Stewart meets together; and must strive with these fierce cruel men, that will ever be too hard for me when Patie is gone. His eyes filled with tears as he continued, 'Ah! that fair chapel, with the sweet chant of the choir, the green smooth-shaven quadrangle, the calm cloister walk; there, there alone is rest.
'Jeanie, whispered Eleanor, as they lay down on their bed together, 'didst mark the tall laddie that was about to seat himself at the high table and frowned when the steward motioned him down? 'What's that to me? An ill-nurtured carle, said Jean; 'I marvel Sir Patie brooks him in his meinie!
"For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove," is a charming song; but "Logan Burn and Logan Braes" are sweetly susceptible of rural imagery; I'll try that likewise, and if I succeed, the other song may class among the English ones. Now my dear lad maun face his faes, Far, far frae me, and Logan braes. "My Patie is a lover gay", is unequal. "His mind is never muddy," is a muddy expression indeed.
'Nevertheless, Patie, said the old gentleman, 'though I had rather the caution had come from the eldest rather than the youngest head among us, parley as much as may serve with honour and courtesy ere opening the gate to the stranger. Hark, there is his bugle.
He had written some years before "A Pastoral Dialogue between Patie and Roger," published as usual in a sheet for a penny, and no doubt affording much pleasure to the great popular audience to whom the "new piece" was as the daily feuilleton, that friendly dole of fiction which sweetens existence.
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