The Book of Scottish Song/Roslin Castle

Roslin Castle.

I.

[The beautiful tune of "Roslin Castle" has been often erroneously ascribed to Oswald, a musical composer who lived in the early part of the last century. But it is to be found in a publication before his day—M'Gibbon's Collection of Scots Tunes,—where it is called "The House of Glams." The old words are supposed to be lost. The following appear in Herd's Collection, 1776, but by what author is not known.]

From Roslin castle's echoing walls
Resound my shepherd's ardent calls,
My Colin bids me come away,
And love demands I should obey.
His melting strain and tuneful lay,
So much the charms of love display,
I yield—nor longer can refrain
To own my love, and bless my swain.

No longer can my heart conceal
The painful pleasing flame I feel,
My soul retorts the am'rous strain,
And echoes back in love again;
Where lurks my songster? from what grove
Does Colin pour his notes of love?
O bring me to the happy bow'r,
Where mutual love may bliss secure.

Ye vocal hills that catch the song,
Repeating, as it flies along,
To Colin's ear my strain convey,
And say, I haste to come away.
Ye zephyrs soft that fan the gale,
Waft to my love the soothing tale;
In whispers all my soul express,
And tell, I haste his arms to bless.

---

II.

[Written by Richard Hewit, who, when very young, was engaged by the blind poet, Dr. Blacklock, as his guide and amanuensis. Hewit subsequently became secretary to Lord Milton, and died in 1794. He was a native of Cumberland.]

'Twas in that season of the year,
When all things gay and sweet appear,
That Colin, with the morning ray,
Arose and sung his rural lay.
Of Nannie's charms the shepherd sung:
The hills and dales with Nannie rung:
While Roslin Castle heard the swain,
And echoed back his cheerful strain.

Awake, sweet muse! The breathing spring
With rapture warms: awake, and sing!
Awake and join the vocal throng,
And hail the morning with a song:
To Nannie raise the cheerful lay;
O, bid her haste and come away
In sweetest smiles herself adorn,
And add new graces to the morn!

O look, my love! on every spray
A feather'd warbler tunes his lay;
'Tis beauty fires the ravish'd throng,
And love inspires the melting song:
Then let the raptured notes arise:
For beauty darts from Nannie's eyes;
And love my rising bosom warms,
And fills my soul with, sweet alarms.

Oh, come, my love! Thy Colin's lay
With rapture calls: O, come away!
Come, while the muse this wreath shall twine
Around that modest brow of thine.
O! hither haste, and with thee bring
That beauty blooming like the spring,
Those graces that divinely shine,
And charm this ravish'd heart of mine!

---