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6. Six formed from five 5 by adding one to the lowest left-hand point,

; or it may be o (four), with the two lines added angle-wise at the top r, and easily rounds itself into 6.

7, has hitherto foiled me. 8, is very obviously two os, thus joined together make E, and quickened into 8.

9, like 7, must be left to some more happy conjecturer,

O, needs very little explanation: for being a circle, it has no defined sides sufficiently distinct to represent any number, and by its uniformity, was probably taken for none.

As we are informed that the Arabians were indebted to the Greeks for much of their science, more especially in the branch of mathematics, I would submit to the ingenious author of the third Article in the last Number, whether the Greek numerals will not supply him with the origin of the figures 7 and 9.

The Greeks represented 7 by Sor 3', and 9 by S. It is singular that these are the only instances, in which any similarity can be traced between the Greek and Arabic digits. From which circumstance, it might be inferred, that the Arabians substituted in both cases, the Greek figures for their own, which were, perhaps, some awkward compounds of inferior numbers on the plan proposed in the article referred to. Art. VI Albyn's Anthology; or a Select Collection of the

Melodies and Vocal Poetry, peculiar to Scotland and the Isles, hitherto unpublished. Collected and arranged by Alexander Campbell. The modern Scotch and English verses, adapted to the Highland, Hebridean, and Lowland Melodies, written by Walter Scott, Esq. and other Living Poets of the first

Eminence. Vol. I. Edinburgh. 1816. 4to. pp. 100, NOTH TOTHING can be of more assistance to the Reviewer than

such a communicative title-page;—and we have only to add to Mr. Campbell's information, that the work before us is an attempt to secure in some permanent form, before it be too late, those plaintive and pathetic tunes, which generally go under the dénomination of Scotch Airs. The present volume is the result of no small labour; as the music it contains has been collected by the Editor in a tedious progress through Scotland and the Isles. Mr. Campbell is by no means the first gentleman

who has undertaken the collection of Scotch Songs;-and, as another example of the labour which his book has cost, we mention a preface of nine close printed pages, in which a great deal of musical science is displayed, together with a thorough knowledge of every thing relating to minstrelsy, highland or lowland, as well as of every former attempt to embody it in a volume. The musical Nomenclature is not very extensive; the chief heads of the Classification being the Dorian mode, and the enharmonic, and diatonic scales. Mr. Campbell attaches great importance to all these things; and thinks it is going to be a question which will divide the learned world— Whether the melodies of the Scoto-Gael, and of the Scoto-Saxons, differ widely in point of structure, or cast of character?' The point is discussed with all due gravity; and the general conclusion is, that the tunes of the Scoto-Gael, and of the ScotoSaxons, have the same origin with the melodies of our neighbours the Irish and Welsh, and, in all probability, those still extant among our Scandinavian neighbours-nay, of the millions that inhabit the shores of the Baltic, and even the borders of the Caspian sea,'—who are Mr. Campbell's neighbours,' too, we suppose.

This important preliminary fact being finally settled, our Editor proceeds, with the same perpetual impression of the dignity and importance of the subject, to detail at length the several books of Scotch “vocal poetry' which appeared before his. The references to different authors are as minute and ample as those of the Universal History;--and how one single personage should have acquired so much knowledge of such a subject, we are at a loss to perceive. The history is closed with an account of the circumstances which induced the Editor to enter upon the present work. It was projected, we are told, in 1790; when Mr. Campbell was an organist in one of the Scotch Episcopal churches of Edinburgh; but it was not till very recently that he received sufficient encouragement to prosecute so laborious an undertaking. Many of the first personages in the United Kingdom now countenance the work; and the present volume is dedicated by permission, to the prince regent of England. Mr. Campbell performed a journey of between eleven and twelve hundred miles, and collected one hundred and ninety-nine melodies and Gaelic vocal poetry.” The tunes were taken down as they were sung by old men and old women, and afterwards furnished with the accompanying verses. The editor himself has written the greatest number: Mr. Hogg, with some others have contributed a few; and four are the productions of Mr. Scott. The poetry is, in Mr. Campbell's estimation, quite subordinate to the music; and in most instances

indeed, it does not deserve to be more highly estimated: but there are some songs on the other hand, which would redeem a great deal of bad verse, and the two following Border Melodies written by Walter Scott would have been a valuable addition to his own collection of Minstrelsy. The first is called Jock of Hazeldeand

Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?

Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed you to my youngest son,

And ye shall be his bride:
And ye shall be his bride, ladie,

Sae comely to be seen-
But aye she loot the tears down fa',

For Jock of Hazeldean.
* Now let this wilful grief be done,

And dry that cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington,

And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen-
But aye she loat the tears down fa',

For Jock of Hazeldean.
• O' chain o' gold ye shall not lack,

Nor braid to bind your bair;
Nor mettled bound, nor managed hawk,

Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost of them a',

Shall ride our forest queen-
But aye she loot the tears down fa',

For Jock of Hazeldean.
The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,

The tapers glimmer'd fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,

And dame and knight are there.
They sought her both by bower and ba',

The ladie was not seen!
She's o'er the border, and awa

Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.
The other is Nora's Vowo-

Hear what Highland Nora said,
« The Erlie's son I will not wed,
Should all the race of nature die,
And none be left but he and I.
For all the gold, for all the gear,
For all the lands, both far and near,
That ever valour lost or won,
I would not wed the Erlie's son.'
"A maiden's vows,' old Callum spoke,

Are lightly made, and lightly broke;
The heather on the mountain's height

Begins to bloom in purple light;
VOL. IX.

22

The frost wind soon shall sweep away
That lustre deep from glen and brae;
Yet, Nora, ere its bloom be gone,
May blythely wed the Erlie's son.'
The swan,' she said, the lake's clear breast
May barter for the eagle's nest;
The Awe's fierce stream may backward turn;
Ben-Cruaihan fall, and crush Kilchurn;
Our kilted clans, when blood is high,
Before their foes may turn and fly;
But I, were all these marvels done,
Would never wed the Erlie's son.'
Still in the water-lilies shade,
Her wonted nest the wild swan made;
Ben-Cruaihan stands as fast as ever;
Still downward foams the Awe's fierce river;
To shun the clash of foeman's steel,
No Highland brogue has turn’d the heel;
But Nora's heart is lost and won,

She's wedded to the Erlie's son. Two or three of Mr. Hogg's contributions are highly poetical; and the following Air is particularly marked with the simplicity and pathos which characterize the effusions of the Scottish Muse.

Why should I sit and sigh,
When the greenwood blooms sae bonny?
Lavrocks sing, flow'rets spring,

A' but me are cheery.
Ochon, o ri! there's something wanting;

Ochon, o ri! I'm weary;
Nae young, blythe, and bonny lad,
Comes o'er the knowe to cheer me.

Ochon, o ri! there's something wanting, &c.
When the day wears away,
Sair I look adown the valley,
Ilka sound, wi' a stound,

Sets my heart a thrilling:
When I see the plover rising,

Or the curlew wheeling,
Then I trow some bonny lad
Is coming to my sheeling.

Ochon, o ri! there's something wanting, &c.
Come away, come away,
Herd, or hind, or boatman laddie;
I hae cow, kid, and ewe,

Gowd and gear to gain thee.
My wee cot is bless’d and happy;

o'tis neat and cleanly!
Sweet the brier that blooms beside it,
Kin the that's lanely.

Ochon, o ri! there's something wanting, &c.

There is one air, composed by Mrs. Grant, which has great smoothness and harmony.

O, my love, leave me not,
O, my love, leave me not,
O, my love, leave me not,

Lonely and weary.
Could you but stay a while,
And my fond fears beguile,
I yet once more could smile,

Lightsome and cheery.
Night with her darkest shroud,
Tempests that roar aloud,
Thunders that burst the cloud,

Why should I fear ye!
Till the sad hour we part,
Fear cannot make me start;
Grief cannot break my heart;

Whilst thou art near me.
Should you forsake my sight,
Day would to me be night,
Sad I would shun its light,

Heartless and weary. The three following stanzas are anonymous but we think no person need be ashamed to own them.

O HUSH thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight;
Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see,
They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.
O fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the wardens that guard thy repose;
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,
Ere the step of a foeman drew near to thy bed.
O hush thee, my baby, the time soon will come,
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum.
Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,

For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. Among his other collections our Editor happened to receive the following lampoon, upon the fair sex:

THERE's nothing so fatal as woman,
To hurry a man to his grave;

He may sigh and lament,

He may pine like a saint,
But still she will hold him her slave.
But a bottle, although 'tis quite common,
The tricks of the sex will undo;

It will drive from your head

TI delights of a bride:
He that is drunk is too happy to woo!

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