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Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland
Hitherto unpublished with explanatory notes by Peter Buchan, corresponding member of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland in two volumes (1875)


INTRODUCTION

In all ages, and by all nations of the world, even in a rude and a barbarous state, lias the voice of song been cherished, and made to express the natural feelings of a grateful, a joyful, a brave, and a generous heart. Much has been written on the nature and composition of Song, but it all tends to shew that it had its origin in love and gratitude. Love to the Supreme Creator first inspired the muse to tune the heart to sing his praises, and the wonders of indefinite creation, and gratitude continued the song. When man was taught the duties he owed to a Deity, and the obligations he was daily under for his preservation, he testified the same in the fulness of his heart, by the adoration given in his morning and evening songs. Reli-gion and love are synonymous, and expressed in the sweet and delightful cadence of poetical imagery and numbers. When the dawn of nature first began to spread its benign influence over the infant mind of man, and the light of religion dispel the dense mists of heathen darkness, it was like the bursting of a raoid river from its channelled course; the longer it ran the wider the breach, and the deeper the stream the smoother the current.—Such was the case regarding poetical refinement ; and such was the happiness of man, when the first rays of light broke through the dark and almost impenetrable clouds of ignorance and superstition. Poetical sublimity has paved the way to the cultivation of man’s taste, and the refinement of his manners and morals. Previous to the art or discovery of writing and printing, the religion, the laws, and the histories of times, families, and particular events, were preserved and handed down from one generation to another, by a race of people called Druids, Bards, Scalds, Senachies, Minstrels, &c. who were wont to sing their themes of religion, love, friendship, war, or history. They were in great esteem both amongst the Gauls and Britons. Their function and name doth yet remain among all those nations which use the old British tongue : and so much honour was given to them in many places, that their persons were accounted sacred, and their houses sanctuaries: nay, in the height of their enmities, when they managed the cruellest wars one against another, and used their victories as severely, yet these Bards and their retinue had free liberty to pass and repass at their pleasure. The nobles, when they came to them, received them honourably, and dismissed them with gifts. They made cantos, and these not inelegant, which the rhapsodists recited, either to the better sort, or else to the vulgar, who were very desirous to hear them; and sometimes they sung to musical instruments. They were often maintained by the chief of the ancient clans, and by some wealthy men, kept on purpose to commemorate their ancestors, and first of their families, in genealogics which they got by heart. In this case, many fly to the Bards and Senachies, as the preservers of ancient records. Tacitus says, that the songs of the German Bards were their only annals. And Joannes Magnus, Archbishop of Upsal, acknowledges, that in compiling the History of the Ancient Goths, he had no other records but the songs of the Bards. As these songs made an illustrious figure at every festival, they were conveyed in every family by parents to their children, and in that manner were kept alive before writing was known. It is to this vanity alone, that we owe the preservation and the remains of ancient poesy.

The Bards made an early appearance in Scotland; for, "beneath the moss-covered rock of Lona, near his own loud stream, gray in his locks of age, dwells Clon-mal, king of harps.” They delivered their mysterious doctrines in verses entrusted entirely to memory, which, as a part of their education, their pupils were taught to repeat. They were the oracles, prophets, priests, philosophers, poets, lawgivers, judges, physicians, and teachers of the Gauls; as their Bards, like the German Scalds, were, more especially, their poets, historians or annalists, and musicians: those communicated their knowledge and precepts also in verse; and these “sung the battles of heroes, and the heaving bosoms of love.” The first traditional records and compositions of all nations were poetical; and that verse, from custom, was continued, as most impressive and memorable, on subjects thought worthy of preservation. America has; Asia, Greece, and Italy had their Bards, as well as Gaul; and the Scalds of the North were equally honoured and famous in Germany. And till of late. there were itinerant Bards, or strolling Minstrels, who-performed upon harps, and sung and recited heroic and other ballads. To these rural Minstrels, I am convinced, we are indebted for the preservation of many of our fine old ballads and songs ; many of which will be found to enrich this Collection, culled with the greatest industry and care from among the sons and daughters of the North.

Poetry has been long and justly esteemed as the noblest ebullition of the human soul. Its uses are as various as its power is unbounded; and let not the vulgar mind ridicule and abuse its votaries as troublesome and useless members of society. But I speak not to those whose faculties are contracted within the narrow sphere of sordid gain; but to those whose ideas are extended, whose minds are refined, and who can cultivate a taste for polite literature amid the more weighty concerns of business. In the first ages, poetry was generally used to perpetuate the memory of some great event, to sing the praises of heroes, and to honour the remains of those who fell in battle. Some nations (as the Arabians do at present) distinguished the various genealogies of their tribes and families in verse, which was conveyed from father to child as a sort of patrimony. The ideas of the ancient Bards were generally simple and sublime, and expressed in language at once natural, nervous and fiery; every sentiment sprung from real feeling, and every word (such was their conciseness) seemed indispensably necessary to the harmony of the whole. And, although many of these bards, or minstrels, were both untutored and unlettered, their songs are the language of the heart. and speak the sentiments of the soul, in familiar verse.

It becomes us then, as the advocates of a national concern, not to weary in this honoured labour of love; but to strain every nerve, to preserve from the fast decaying1 hand of time, a remnant of those wild flowers which have garnished the antique halls of an ancient race of warriors, now long forgotten except in the sweet voice of magic song. And, although much has been done, still much remains undone, in collecting those mutilated fragments of our early ancestors;—those graphic relics of antiquity, which delineate men and manners, kings and heroes, things natural and supernatural, not as they exist now, but as they were once believed to be. It must therefore be gratifying to every liberal-minded man of taste, and every lover of his country, to find there are still labourers who delight to glean in the vineyard of traditionary song, and snatch from the beds of oblivion, what have at one time contributed to the greatness of kings, the pleasures of the commons, the inspiration of heroes, and been the wonder and delight of ages. Even to the man of letters, as well as the literary antiquary, they become interesting.

No one has yet conceived, nor has it entered the mind of man, what patience, perseverance, and general knowledge are necessary for an editor of a Collection of Ancient Ballads; nor what mountains of difficulties he has to overcome ; what hosts of enemies he has to encounter; and what myriads of little-minded quib-blers he has to silence. The writing of explanatory notes is like no other species of literature. History throws little light upon their origin, or the cause which gave rise to their composition. He has to grope his way in the dark; like Bunyan’s pilgrim, on crossing the valley of the shadow of death, he hears sounds and noises, but cannot, to a certainty, tell from whence they come, nor to what place they proceed. The one time, he has to treat of fabulous ballads in the most romantic shape ; the next legendary, with all its exploded, obsolete, and forgotten superstitions ; also history, tragedy, comedy, love, war, and so on; all, perhaps, within the narrow compass of a few hours,—so varied must his genius and talents be.

The Ballads themselves are faithfully and honestly transcribed, and given as taken down from the months of the reciters: they have suffered no change since they fortunately were consigned to me by their foster parents. There are many of them, however, much like those already published, but under different names: of these I have been careful to advise my reader; also, when and where I have found such likeness. From such proceedings, it will then be seen that I have acted as candid and upright a part as within the compass of the power of any one situated under similar circumstances. I have spared neither money nor trouble, in procuring the most genuine and best authenticated copies of all the Ancient Ballads in the following pages, and flatter myself I have succeeded beyond any of my cotemporarics. I have also been able to complete many of the very best pieces hitherto only found in mutilated fragments, even in popular and esteemed collections; and trust they will form a valuable acquisition to the libraries of all those interested in the history of Scottish literature. But, as perfection has not yet been the lot of man, no one will expect that such a work as this can be altogether free of faults, and that it is impossible to please every reader: as this is the case, my great ambition is to gratify those of a kindred spirit, whose ears are ever open to the recital of the tales of other years; of their country and its inhabitants, their loves and wars, joys and woes, as depicted by worthies, who once, like themselves, filled an honourable situation in life; who shared in the festivities of their day; but who are now, unless in the songs of their mirth and sadness, exploded from the memories of a forgetful world. Yet a remnant shall be saved ; the lovers of Ancient Minstrelsy will find many of those ditties that gladdened the hearts of their ancestors, and cheered the warlike halls of their ancient and noble possessors, to enrich the work now before them. Although the labourers in this field of traditionary Song have, of late, proved abundant, and their gleanings made with pious care, their works will show how thin their harvest has been. And, I may add, every year is making it more and more so, by the demise of some worthy matron, or hoary-headed sire, who is silently sliding away at the command of ruthless death, to where the sons of the morning sing together in endless concert. There are still, though now few, some beautiful and sweet morsels of the olden times, to be found among the aged and venerated people of the North, that have escaped the most diligent researches of these modern reapers. As much of our traditionary history, particularly local, is blended with the family exploits of the times, as recorded in the olden ballads, their preservation becomes necessary, and a profitable source of useful information and delight, not only to the antiquary, but to every one who feels an interest in the decayed memories of their forefathers—who wish to cherish a national spirit, and who are anxious to support the time-worn structure, and falling towers of Ancient Scottish National Song. Let them then rouse each latent feeling, and encourage those who make such studies their delight, and who take pleasure in preserving them.

As man has a thinking principle within him, he is conscious that nothing in this world can perfect his happiness, so that he flies from one object to another, with a view of lessening his misery, or increasing his pleasure; and, as times and ages change, so do his manners, feeling, and dispositions; what was his joy today, may become his sorrow to-morrow. He has at length discovered, that, in recovering the vestiges of the olden times, he anticipates a mental satisfaction rarely arising from the pursuits of vice. The literature of past ages has engrossed the study and attention of almost every civilized and learned man. He can judge from the works of imagination, the state of the minds of his ancestors, and the manners and characters of a rude, or an enlightened people, in their native colour and dress. And, as of late years, there has been more than an ordinary enquiry after the poetical reliques of our early history, much has been preserved from the wreck of ages—old things have become new, and a re-novation of our Scottish literature seems to have taken place in all the plenitude of its strength and beauty. The darksome ages that gave birth to the mental atchievements of our forefathers, are now forgot; and that spirit only which lay sleeping in the tomb of forgetfulness, arises with the vigour it was wont to show in its chivalric deeds : And, although the age of knight-errantry and chivalry have passed entirely away, those emotions of heroic feeling are still alive in the breasts of many. The human heart still retains the same sentiments of honour, and the lofty magnanimity of the glory of past ages.

To these kindred spirits, do I then offer the pride of my toils ;—the only legitimate history of the superstitions and times in which they were conceived. In them, the lives and actions of kings, nobles, and commons, will be found delineated with the artless and unassuming pen of nature : their ancestors pourtrayed in their true colours, and a display of those deeds which gave rise to their first ambition and greatness. Should, then, the following volumes meet with that encouragement which I anticipate, I will not eat the bread of idleness, but still persevere in culling and garnering up for the sons of Scotsmen yet unborn, those sweetly variegated blossoms which bloom in the straw-covered cot, among the silvery-headed monuments of living antiquity, in the North of my native Isle.

Long, and perhaps tiresome, as this Introduction has been to many of my readers, I must still add a few words more, partly by way of showing my fervent gratitude, and partly by way of explanation of what follows.—In the first place, it is necessary to say by what means I became possessed of so many valuable reliques as adorn the following pages, as some of my sceptical readers may think them forgeries; but as it is impossible for me to satisfy every person, I must adopt the shortest method, by saying, that the greater part of them was taken down by myself during the last ten or twelve years, from the singing and recitation of old men and women, in various parts of Scotland, but chiefly in Aberdeenshire : others were sent me by ladies and gentlemen of the highest respectability, on whose words, as to their authenticity, I could safely depend; but as it would be too tedious to name them all, although to all my thanks are due, I shall only particularize Hugh Irvine, Esq. Drum; Malvina, a young lady in Aberdeen; and Mr James Nicol, Strichen. I must also mention that I was much indebted to the recitation of James Rankin, an old man, blind from his birth, with a most retentive memory, and who is at this moment gathering for me what can be gleaned within the circle of a large and extensive acquaintance; as it is my most earnest wish, and greatest pleasure, to preserve every fragment and literary monument of our early ancestors, that can illustrate the history and times in which they had their existence on this terrestrial ball, however much and unjustly I may be reprobated, as of late I have been, by ignorant persons, under a false show of modesty and grace. And, although this is the first attempt of the kind that was ever made in the North, I trust it will not be the last; for among our heath-clad hills the roses as well as the thistles grow—in the glens, sprigs of the willow are to be found, and the harp of Apollo often heard!

My best acknowledgments are not less due to John Richardson, Esq. of Pitfour, Pitfour Castle, Perthshire, for the loan of a curious and interesting old^MS. volume of Poems. On the first page of this MS. is written — “This Buick perteens to a verie honourable womane, Margarat Robertsoune, relict of vmquhile Alexander Steuart of Bonskeid, Anno Domini 1630.” I am informed she belonged to the Lude family, and the Poems are those referred to by General Stewart of Garth, in his Sketches of the Highlands, as containing proofs of the advanced state of literature in the Highlands in the 17th century. Of this collection I intended to have given freely ; but on arriving at Edinburgh, I found the work so far advanced in the printing as to prevent me from giving more than two pieces as a specimen, which will be found at the end of this Introduction. However, in a forthcoming volume, which has already been called for, as my Ballad-store is not yet exhausted, I will then avail myself of its contents, and draw upon it largely.

I shall now close this Introduction by observing, that, among the many gentlemen of rank and respectability, who have interested themselves not a little in the success of this publication, am 1 indebted to Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esquire, Edinburgh, and to whom I beg to offer, with every sense of respect and esteem, my most sincere thanks for the trouble he has taken in revising the proof-sheets of the Ballads as they emanated from the press, as my living at such a distance from Edinburgh prevented my own corrections. No one, however, that knows the refined taste and superior judgment of this gentleman, in every thing connected with Ancient Scottish Literature, will regret my absence. The Introduction and Notes are as they came from my pen. A tribute of grateful respect is also due to all those who have encouraged the work by their friendly patronage, as without patrons all my labours would have been lost.

To avoid the imputation of vanity, I am anxious to state, that the Portrait prefixed to this volume has been given at the special request of some of my friends in Edinburgh, who have taken an interest in the publication.

PETER BUCHAN.
Peterhead, October 1828.

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