THE
NABOB
.
I
have
met
with
many
printed
editions
of
this
beautiful
ballad
,
but
scarcely
two
of
them
alike
;
the
best
appeared
in
the
"
Scots
Magazine
"
for
1803
,
p.
130
;
a
very
inferior
one
was
published
in
the
same
work
in
1802
,
p.
594.
The
present
version
is
printed
from
two
manuscripts
in
the
author's
handwriting
,
a
copy
of
the
poem
in
the
handwriting
of
her
sister
Mrs
Brown
,
and
from
Miss
Thomson's
collection
,
mentioned
in
the
preface
;
which
collection
,
I
may
here
add
,
was
procured
by
Miss
Rowlands
directly
from
the
author
,
they
being
related
.
Miss
Thomson's
set
of
the
ballad
is
almost
the
same
as
that
published
in
the
"
Scots
Magazine
"
for
1803
,
with
the
exception
of
some
verbal
differences
of
very
little
consequence
.
Besides
these
differences
,
the
stanza
beginning
"
In
vain
I
sought
in
music's
sound
,
"
and
the
last
half
of
the
concluding
stanza
,
are
wholly
omitted
;
a
circumstance
easily
enough
accounted
for
,
by
the
carelessness
of
transcription
.
I
have
,
of
course
,
used
this
copy
as
my
chief
guide
,
with
a
word
here
and
there
from
the
other
manuscripts
,
when
I
thought
they
were
to
be
preferred
;
for
I
have
been
exceedingly
solicitous
of
giving
a
correct
edition
of
this
exquisite
ballad
,
which
has
now
stood
the
test
of
public
opinion
for
upwards
of
half
a
century
,
and
by
the
aid
of
the
author's
copies
to
free
it
from
those
interpolations
which
have
so
much
disfigured
it
,
and
marred
its
engaging
simplicity
.
For
this
endeavour
I
hope
to
obtain
the
approbation
of
every
lover
of
lyric
poetry
;
for
,
on
comparing
the
present
with
the
former
editions
,
I
am
confident
its
superiority
will
be
at
once
acknowledged
.
How
much
it
occupied
the
author's
thoughts
,
and
the
care
she
bestowed
on
its
composition
,
will
be
manifested
by
contrasting
the
first
rough
sketch
of
the
poem
given
at
the
end
of
this
note
,
with
that
of
the
perfected
copy
in
the
text
.
Besides
,
it
is
a
matter
of
real
interest
to
mark
the
elaboration
of
any
poem
which
has
become
established
in
our
literature
;
—
one
which
,
like
"
The
Nabob
"
has
so
long
clung
to
the
affections
of
the
lovers
of
song
on
both
sides
of
the
Border
;
—
which
has
charmed
the
social
meetings
of
all
classes
of
the
community
,
and
claimed
for
its
simple
beauties
,
and
touching
imagery
,
the
willing
tear
from
both
old
and
young
.
I
have
heard
it
sung
in
the
south
of
Scotland
,
when
both
singer
and
auditors
were
weeping
.
In
the
first
copy
we
find
the
name
Peter
afterwards
changed
to
that
of
Donald
;
perhaps
Peter
was
the
actual
name
of
the
faithful
domestic
,
as
the
poem
was
founded
on
an
incident
which
actually
occurred
.
The
first
three
stanzas
are
almost
the
same
as
that
in
the
text
;
—
the
remainder
is
as
follows
:
—
Some
hafflin'
chiels
,
a
new
sprung
race
,
Wad
next
their
welcome
pay
,
Wha
shudder'd
at
my
Gothic
walls
,
And
wish'd
my
groves
away
:
"
Cut
,
cut
those
odious
trees
,
"
they
cried
,
"
And
low
lay
yonder
pine
:
"
Deed
no
;
your
fathers'
names
grow
there
,
Memorials
o'
langsyne
!
When
time
has
change
o'
seasons
brought
;
When
flowers
begin
to
fade
;
When
summer
suns
haste
down
the
sky
,
And
autumn
thins
the
shade
;
When
wintry
blasts
are
whistling
round
,
Your
hearts
will
feel
like
mine
;
And
e'en
a
sang
will
maist
delight
That
minds
ye
o'
langsyne
.
To
wean
me
frae
these
antique
thoughts
,
They
drew
me
to
the
toun
;
But
there
on
brows
where
beauty
sat
I
saw
a
siller
croun
:
At
balls
they
pointed
to
a
nymph
,
Whom
all
declare
divine
;
But
sure
her
mother's
blushing
cheek
Was
fairer
far
langsyne
!
Dear
youths
,
an
auld
man's
warning
take
,
Nor
ance
allow
the
mind
To
dwell
on
scenes
that
can't
return
,
Or
friends
ye
nae
mair
find
;
But
as
the
fleeting
moments
pass
,
To
present
joys
incline
;
And
for
the
hour
prepare
some
bliss
That
asks
nought
frae
langsyne
.
The
ills
o'
life
thus
to
beguile
Be
still
your
constant
aim
;
Nor
let
the
joyful
days
o'
youth
Too
soft
remembrance
claim
;
Else
,
tho'
the
mavis
sweetly
sings
,
The
woods
and
flowers
combine
Wi'
mony
a
friend
to
charm
the
heart
,
'Twill
sigh
for
auld
langsyne
!
It
may
be
worth
while
to
remark
that
,
on
the
paper
in
which
the
above
is
written
,
there
is
a
song
entitled
"
Song
for
the
Carlisle
Hunt
,
November
,
1788
;
"
which
date
may
probably
indicate
the
year
in
which
"
The
Nabob
"
was
composed
.
It
is
to
be
found
in
R.
A.
Smith's
"
Scottish
Minstrel
"
vol.
vi
.
p.
41
,
beautifully
arranged
.
Air
—
Traveller's
Return
.
WHEN
silent
time
,
wi'
lightly
foot
,
A
real
incident
.
—
Mrs
Brown
.
Had
trod
on
thirty
years
,
I
sought
again
my
native
land
Wi'
mony
hopes
and
fears
:
Wha
kens
gin
the
dear
friends
I
left
May
still
continue
mine
?
Or
gin
I
e'er
again
shall
taste
The
joys
I
left
langsyne
?
As
I
drew
near
my
ancient
pile
,
My
heart
beat
a'
the
way
;
Ilk
place
I
pass'd
seem'd
yet
to
speak
O'
some
dear
former
day
;
Those
days
that
follow'd
me
afar
,
Those
happy
days
o'
mine
,
Whilk
made
me
think
the
present
joys
A'
naething
to
langsyne
!
The
ivy'd
tower
now
met
my
eye
,
Where
minstrels
used
to
blaw
;
Nae
friend
stepp'd
forth
wi'
open
hand
,
Nae
weel-kenn'd
face
I
saw
;
Till
Donald
totter'd
to
the
door
,
Wham
I
left
in
his
prime
,
And
grat
to
see
the
lad
return
He
bore
about
langsyne
.
I
ran
to
ilka
dear
friend's
room
,
As
if
to
find
them
there
,
I
knew
where
ilk
ane
used
to
sit
,
And
hang
o'er
mony
a
chair
;
Till
soft
remembrance
threw
a
veil
Across
these
een
o'
mine
,
I
clos'd
the
door
,
and
sobb'd
aloud
,
To
think
on
auld
langsyne
!
Some
pensy
chiels
,
a
new
sprung
race
,
Wad
next
their
welcome
pay
,
Wha
shudder'd
at
my
Gothic
wa's
,
And
wish'd
my
groves
away
:
"
Cut
,
cut
,
"
they
cried
,
"
those
aged
elms
,
Lay
low
yon
mournfu'
pine
:
"
Na
!
na
!
our
fathers'
names
grow
there
,
Memorials
o'
langsyne
.
To
wean
me
frae
these
waefu'
thoughts
,
They
took
me
to
the
town
;
But
sair
on
ilka
weel-kenn'd
face
I
miss'd
the
youthfu'
bloom
.
At
balls
they
pointed
to
a
nymph
Wham
a'
declar'd
divine
;
But
sure
her
mother's
blushing
cheeks
Were
fairer
far
langsyne
!
In
vain
I
sought
in
music's
sound
To
find
that
magic
art
,
Which
oft
in
Scotland's
ancient
lays
Has
thrill'd
through
a'
my
heart
:
The
sang
had
mony
an
artfu'
turn
;
My
ear
confess'd
'twas
fine
;
But
miss'd
the
simple
melody
I
listen'd
to
langsyne
.
Ye
sons
to
comrades
o'
my
youth
,
Forgie
an
auld
man's
spleen
,
Wha
'midst
your
gayest
scenes
still
mourns
The
days
he
ance
has
seen
:
When
time
has
past
,
and
seasons
fled
,
Your
hearts
will
feel
like
mine
;
And
aye
the
sang
will
maist
delight
That
minds
ye
o'
langsyne
!