JAMIE DOUGLAS.
It was in the days when ClaverhouseWas scouring moor and glen,To change, with fire and bloody sword,The faith of Scottish men.They had made a covenant with the LordFirm in their faith to bide,Nor break to him their plighted word,Whatever might betide.The sun was well-nigh setting,When o’er the heather wild,And up the narrow mountain path,Alone there walked a child.He was a bonny, blithesome lad,Sturdy and strong of limb:A father’s pride, a mother’s love,Were fast bound up in him.His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round,His step was firm and light:What was it underneath his plaidHis little hands grasped tight?It was bannocks which, that very morn,His mother made with care,From out her scanty store of meal,And now, with many a prayer,Had sent by Jamie, her ane boy,A trusty lad and brave,To good old Pastor Tammus Roy,Now hid in yonder cave,And for whom the bloody ClaverhouseHad hunted long in vain,And swore they would not leave that glenTill old Tam Roy was slain.So Jamie Douglas went his wayWith heart that knew no fear:He turned the great curve in the rock,Nor dreamed that death was near.And there were bloody Claverhouse menWho laughed aloud with glee,When, trembling now within their power,The frightened child they see.He turns to flee, but all in vain:They drag him back apaceTo where their cruel leader stands,And set them face to face.The cakes concealed beneath his plaidSoon tell the story plain—“It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for!”Exclaimed the angry man.“Now guide me to his hiding-place,And I will let you go.”But Jamie shook his yellow curls,And stoutly answered, “No!”“I’ll drop you down the mountain side,And there upon the stonesThe old gaunt wolf and carrion crowShall battle for your bones.”And in his brawny, strong right handHe lifted up the child,And held him where the clefted rocksFormed a chasm deep and wild.So deep it was, the trees belowLike stunted bushes seemed.Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze:It seemed some horrid dream.He looked at the blue sky above,Then at the men near by:Hadtheyno little boys at home,That they could let him die?But no one spoke, and no one stirred,Or lifted hand to saveFrom such a fearful, frightful death,The little lad so brave.“It is woful deep!” he shuddering cried;“But, oh! I canna tell!So drop me down, then, if you will—It is nae so deep as hell!”A childish scream, a faint, dull sound—O Jamie Douglas true!Long, long within that lonely caveShall Tam Roy wait for you.Long for your welcome comingWaits the mother on the moor,And watches and calls, “Come, Jamie, lad,”Through the half-open door.No more adown the rocky pathYou come with fearless tread,Or, on moor or mountain, takeThe good man’s daily bread.But up in heaven the shining onesA wond’rous story tell,Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulfThat is nae so deep as hell.And there before the great white throne,Forever blessed and glad,His mother dear and old Tam RoyShall meet their bonny lad.
It was in the days when ClaverhouseWas scouring moor and glen,To change, with fire and bloody sword,The faith of Scottish men.They had made a covenant with the LordFirm in their faith to bide,Nor break to him their plighted word,Whatever might betide.The sun was well-nigh setting,When o’er the heather wild,And up the narrow mountain path,Alone there walked a child.He was a bonny, blithesome lad,Sturdy and strong of limb:A father’s pride, a mother’s love,Were fast bound up in him.His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round,His step was firm and light:What was it underneath his plaidHis little hands grasped tight?It was bannocks which, that very morn,His mother made with care,From out her scanty store of meal,And now, with many a prayer,Had sent by Jamie, her ane boy,A trusty lad and brave,To good old Pastor Tammus Roy,Now hid in yonder cave,And for whom the bloody ClaverhouseHad hunted long in vain,And swore they would not leave that glenTill old Tam Roy was slain.So Jamie Douglas went his wayWith heart that knew no fear:He turned the great curve in the rock,Nor dreamed that death was near.And there were bloody Claverhouse menWho laughed aloud with glee,When, trembling now within their power,The frightened child they see.He turns to flee, but all in vain:They drag him back apaceTo where their cruel leader stands,And set them face to face.The cakes concealed beneath his plaidSoon tell the story plain—“It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for!”Exclaimed the angry man.“Now guide me to his hiding-place,And I will let you go.”But Jamie shook his yellow curls,And stoutly answered, “No!”“I’ll drop you down the mountain side,And there upon the stonesThe old gaunt wolf and carrion crowShall battle for your bones.”And in his brawny, strong right handHe lifted up the child,And held him where the clefted rocksFormed a chasm deep and wild.So deep it was, the trees belowLike stunted bushes seemed.Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze:It seemed some horrid dream.He looked at the blue sky above,Then at the men near by:Hadtheyno little boys at home,That they could let him die?But no one spoke, and no one stirred,Or lifted hand to saveFrom such a fearful, frightful death,The little lad so brave.“It is woful deep!” he shuddering cried;“But, oh! I canna tell!So drop me down, then, if you will—It is nae so deep as hell!”A childish scream, a faint, dull sound—O Jamie Douglas true!Long, long within that lonely caveShall Tam Roy wait for you.Long for your welcome comingWaits the mother on the moor,And watches and calls, “Come, Jamie, lad,”Through the half-open door.No more adown the rocky pathYou come with fearless tread,Or, on moor or mountain, takeThe good man’s daily bread.But up in heaven the shining onesA wond’rous story tell,Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulfThat is nae so deep as hell.And there before the great white throne,Forever blessed and glad,His mother dear and old Tam RoyShall meet their bonny lad.
It was in the days when ClaverhouseWas scouring moor and glen,To change, with fire and bloody sword,The faith of Scottish men.
They had made a covenant with the LordFirm in their faith to bide,Nor break to him their plighted word,Whatever might betide.
The sun was well-nigh setting,When o’er the heather wild,And up the narrow mountain path,Alone there walked a child.
He was a bonny, blithesome lad,Sturdy and strong of limb:A father’s pride, a mother’s love,Were fast bound up in him.
His bright blue eyes glanced fearless round,His step was firm and light:What was it underneath his plaidHis little hands grasped tight?
It was bannocks which, that very morn,His mother made with care,From out her scanty store of meal,And now, with many a prayer,
Had sent by Jamie, her ane boy,A trusty lad and brave,To good old Pastor Tammus Roy,Now hid in yonder cave,
And for whom the bloody ClaverhouseHad hunted long in vain,And swore they would not leave that glenTill old Tam Roy was slain.
So Jamie Douglas went his wayWith heart that knew no fear:He turned the great curve in the rock,Nor dreamed that death was near.
And there were bloody Claverhouse menWho laughed aloud with glee,When, trembling now within their power,The frightened child they see.
He turns to flee, but all in vain:They drag him back apaceTo where their cruel leader stands,And set them face to face.
The cakes concealed beneath his plaidSoon tell the story plain—“It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for!”Exclaimed the angry man.
“Now guide me to his hiding-place,And I will let you go.”But Jamie shook his yellow curls,And stoutly answered, “No!”
“I’ll drop you down the mountain side,And there upon the stonesThe old gaunt wolf and carrion crowShall battle for your bones.”
And in his brawny, strong right handHe lifted up the child,And held him where the clefted rocksFormed a chasm deep and wild.
So deep it was, the trees belowLike stunted bushes seemed.Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze:It seemed some horrid dream.
He looked at the blue sky above,Then at the men near by:Hadtheyno little boys at home,That they could let him die?
But no one spoke, and no one stirred,Or lifted hand to saveFrom such a fearful, frightful death,The little lad so brave.
“It is woful deep!” he shuddering cried;“But, oh! I canna tell!So drop me down, then, if you will—It is nae so deep as hell!”
A childish scream, a faint, dull sound—O Jamie Douglas true!Long, long within that lonely caveShall Tam Roy wait for you.
Long for your welcome comingWaits the mother on the moor,And watches and calls, “Come, Jamie, lad,”Through the half-open door.
No more adown the rocky pathYou come with fearless tread,Or, on moor or mountain, takeThe good man’s daily bread.
But up in heaven the shining onesA wond’rous story tell,Of a child snatched up from a rocky gulfThat is nae so deep as hell.
And there before the great white throne,Forever blessed and glad,His mother dear and old Tam RoyShall meet their bonny lad.