CONTENTdm
Hawthorn Fly Fishing & Angling Collection
The Newcastle fishers' garlands
Crawhall, Joseph, 1821-1896
"Edited by Joseph Crawhall, and continued to this present year" -- Title page
xv, 312 pages : illustrations
application/pdf
THE LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA fir (garlanbs* T J3 Fifty Copies printed on large paper. Price Two Guineas. Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne &> Company. A COLLECTION OF RIGHT MERRIE GARLANDS jlortl) Country Anglers. JOSEPH CRAWHALL, AND CONTINUED TO THIS PRESENT YEAR. l9etocastfe=on=€t>ne: GEORGE RUTLAND, 22 BLACKETT STREET. 1864. INDICATED to the Members of the COQUET- dale Angling Club, with an earnest hope that the lines herein cast may perchance rise some stray Roxby or Doubled ay of that honourable body, and induce an attempt to resume and continue the Newcastle Fishers' Garlands, so charmingly set forth by the spirits of a former generation. INTRODUCTION. JHE following Songs formed part of the series of publications issued by the Newcastle-on- Tyne Typographical Society, (commenced in 1817, and not now in existence.) They were at first issued separately, and afterwards collectively in 1836, containing, with "The Angler's Progress" and "The Tyne Fisher's Farewell," fourteen Garlands to 1832 inclusive. A subsequent edition appeared in 1842, with fifteen additional songs, continued to 1845, including " The Auld Fisher's Invitation," forming in the whole a collection of twenty-nine Garlands from 1820 to 1845. The original manuscripts, with the correspondence relating to them, and the corrected proofs, were purchased by the editor of the present edition from the late William Garret, many years manager for the late Emerson Charnley, the publisher of the former editions, and on such data the notes and memoranda now prefixed to each Garland are founded. The history of the woodcuts in the original edition, to the period of the publication of most of them in the so- called Bewick's "Select Fables," 1820, will be found in the preface (advertisement) to that work, but the reader will in vain look for their identity on the Garlands. Perhaps the less said about (in catalogue phraseology) " the charming illustrations by Bewick" the better, as, with very few exceptions, the blocks were so thoroughly, and, I may say, so skilfully metamorphosed, that it will be found difficult in many cases to recognise them in their present state—a state certainly detrimental in an artistic point of view. The woodcuts in the series which have been copied from Bewick will certainly not tend to impair the fame of that great man. In 1852 appeared I The Coquetdale Fishing Songs, now first collected and edited by a North-Country Angler," (Thomas Double- day,) but including only sixteen Garlands of the original series, severally or jointly the productions of Robert Roxby and the editor, with the addition of " The Auld Fisher's Advice," introduced in the present edition as the Garland for 1846. Of seven unpublished manuscript Garlands in the collection, three only have been thought worthy of insertion here, which, with two cor- Introduction. IX rected proofs of angling songs by William Andrew Chatto, forwarded to Garret for publication, (though having already appeared in "The Angler's Souvenir," 1834,) bring the Garlands down to 1850, from which date to this present year they have been supplied by the writers whose names are respectively subscribed. Morpeth. August 1, 1864. CONTENTS. The Fisher's Garland for 1820, entitled, "The Angler's Progress." By Herman Boaz, ...... i The Fisher's Garland for 1821. By Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " The Miller o' Dron," . 7 The Fisher's Garland for 1822, entitled, " Tyne Side." By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of " Canny Newcassel," . 15 The Fisher's Garland for 1823, entitled, *■' Coquet Side." By Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "They may rail at this life," but originally set to "The Howes o' Glenorchie," ....... 23 The Fisher's Garland for 1824, entitled, "The Auld Fisher's Welcome to Coquet-Side." By Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "Auld Lang Syne," . . 29 The Tyne Fisher's Farewell to his Favourite Stream on the approach of Winter. By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of "Good night, and joy be wi' you a'," . . , 35 The Fisher's Garland for 1825, entitled, "The Auld Fisher's Fare- weel to Coquet." By Robert Roxby and Thomas Double- day. To the Tune of" Gramachree," . . 43 The Fisher's Garland for 1826, entitled, "The Coquet for Ever!" By Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " Oh, whistle, an' I'll come to you, my lad," . . 49 xii Contents. The Fisher's Garland for 1827, entitled, " The Fisher's Call." By William Greene, ...... 55 The Fisher's Garland for 1828, entitled, "The Fisher's Call." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "Bob and Joan," . 61 The Fisher's Garland for 1829, entitled, "The Old Fisher's Challenge." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "Boyne Water," (old set,) ...... 67 The Fisher's Garland for 1830, entitled, "The Old Angler's Triumph." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " Auld Sir Simon," . . . . . . » 73 The Fisher's Garland for 1831, entitled, " The Tyne Fisher's Call." By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of " There's nae luck about the house," ...... 79 The Fisher's Garland for 1832, entitled, "The Fisher's Invitation to his Friend in Newcastle." By Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " Tak' your auld cloak aboutyou," 87 The Fisher's Garland for 1833, entitled, "The Angler's Delight." By Robert Nichol. To the Tune of " The Ploughman," . 95 The Fisher's Garland for 1834, entitled, " The Morning Invitation." By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of "Ye Banks and Braes," ....... 101 The Fisher's Garland for 1835, entitled, "My Glendale Friend, Will Reedy, O! An Angler's Greeting." By William Andrew Chatto. To the Tune of " The Lea Rig," . . 107 The Fisher's Garland for 1836, entitled, " The Angler's Invitation." By William Andrew Chatto. To the Tune of "Jessie, the Flower o'Dumblane," . . . . . .113 The Fisher's Garland for 1837, entitled, "The Fisher's Call." By William Andrew Chatto, . . . . . .119 The Fisher's Garland for 1838, entitled, "Summer Rambles; or, The Fisher's Delight." By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of " There's nae luck about the house," . . . 123 The Fisher's Garland for 1839, entitled, "The Auld Fisher's Invitation to Supper." By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of " Tak' your auld cloak about you," . . . 129 Contents. Xlll The Fisher's Garland for 1840, entitled, "A Day by the Side of the Fast-flowing Tyne." By William Gill Thompson. To the Tune of " Derry Down," ..... The Fisher's Garland for 1841, entitled, "The Auld Fisher's Last Wish." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "My love is newly listed," , The Fisher's Garland for 1842, entitled, "Auld and Young." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "Fy! gar rub her owre wi' strae!" The Fisher's Garland for 1842, (Autumn Number,) entitled, "The Angler's Adieu for the Season." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "The bonnie gray-eyed morn," The Fisher's Garland for 1843, entitled, "Up the Wreigh!" By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "John, come kiss me," ........ The Fisher's Garland for 1844, entitled, " The Fisher's Courtship." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " The Women are a' gane wud," ....... The Auld Fisher's Invitation to his Friend in Newcastle to gang wi' him to North Tyne to tak' anither Thraw. By Thomas Doubleday, ....... The Fisher's Garland for 1845, entitled, " The Morning Airly." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "Corn rigs are bonnie," ....... The Fisher's Garland for 1846, entitled, "The Auld Fisher's Advice." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " Had I the, wyte?" ....... The Fisher's Garland for 1847, entitled "The Angler's Invitation." By R. G., (probably Robert Gillan.) To the Tune of " The Birks of Aberfeldy," ...... The Fisher's Garland for 1847, (Autumn Number,) entitled, "The „ Angler's Even-Song." By William Andrew Chatto, The Fisher's Garland for 1848, entitled, "Visit to Redesdale." By Robert White. To the Tune of "Down the burn, Davie," ....... 135 141 147 153 159 165 171 177 183 189 195 199 xiv Contents. The Fisher's Garland for 1849, entitled, " The Piscatorian's Rant" By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of "There's three guid fellows," ....... 205 The Fisher's Garland for 1856, entitled, "The Angler's Reveille." By William Andrew Chatto, , . . .211 The Fisher's Garland for 1851, entitled, " The Auld Fisher's Visit to North Tyne." By Robert Roxby, . . . 215 The Fisher's Garland for 1852, entitled, "The Coquet Angler's Matin Song." By Thomas Westwood, . . .221 The Fisher's Garland for 1853, entitled, "An Angler's Reverie." By Joseph Crawhall. To the Tune of " Come live with me," &c, . . . . . . . 227 GF&e %\fDzx*$ ^arlanb for 1854, entitled, "3C 3tegenfre of ge iKguerre Coouette," By Joseph Crawhall, . t 231. The Fisher's Garland for 1855. By Thomas Doubleday, . 243 The Fisher's Garland for 1856, entitled, " The Jolly Anglers." By Joseph Crawhall. To the Tune of " Happy Friendship," 247 The Fisher's Garland for 1857, entitled, "The Angler's Matin Song." By Joseph Crawhall. To the Tune of " The Howes o' Glenorchie," . . . . , . .253 Cfa #1$)^ «Bartanfr for 185a By Joseph Crawhall. To the Tune of "Billy Taylor," ..... 259 The Fisher's Garland for 1859, entitled, " The Angler's Address to his * Ladye Love.'" By Joseph Crawhall, To the Tune of " Pack, clouds, away," ..... 265 The Fisher's Garland for i860, entitled, " Coquet-side." By Robert White. To the Tune of "Tak'your auld cloak about you," 271 The Fisher's Garland for 1861, entitled, " The Angler's Wish." By Joseph Crawhall. To the Tune of " When the kye come hame," ...... The Fisher's Garland for 1862, entitled, "The Conqueror Worm." By Joseph Crawhall. To its ain Tune, . . \ 281 The Fisher's Garland for 1863, entitled, t( The Dying Angler's Last Look at Coquet." By Thomas Westwood. To the Tune of "The mill, mill, O!" . . . . . 285 275 Contents. xv The Fisher's Garland for 1864, entitled, "The Angler's Toast," By Joseph Crawhall. To the Tune of " The general toast; or, Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen," . . .291 The Fisher's Garland for 1864, (Autumn Number,) entitled, "The Last o' the Season." By Thomas Doubleday. To the Tune of " Up in the mornin' early," .... 297 " 3In jflEtemoriam "—Izaak Walton, .... 303 Brief Notices of some Contributors to the Original Garlands, . 307 BH %%t jftsljer^ ^arlanti FOR l820. The Angler's Progress. {The following doggerel was written by Mr Herman Boaz, (a conjuror,) July 4, 1789, and published in a detached form, (broadside ?). Second edition, London, for J. H. Burn, Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, 1820. It is also included in most collections of angling songs, such as "Songs ofthe Chace," "Armiger's Vocal Cabinet," " Blakey's Angler's Song Book," &c. Notwithstanding having been characterised as "perfect" in the " Noctes," (Oct. 1832,) it is not admitted here on its merits, but solely as having been the precedent to the Newcastle Garlands. Two hundred and ninety-six copies were printed for Emerson Charnley, July 7, 1824, with manuscript instructions on the proof to "make it 1820." Wood-cut on title as used for vignette at p. 190, "Select Fables," 1820. The block is in Bohn's possession, and figures at p. 83, "Walton's Angler," 1856, as Bewick's.] jlHEN I was a mere school-boy, (ere yet I 'd learned my book,) I felt an itch for Angling in every little brook; An osier rod, some thread for line, a crooked pin for hook, And thus equipp'd, I angled in every little brook; Where Prickle-backs and Minnows, each day I caught in store, With Stone-loaches and MillerVthumbs— those brooks afford no more : And thus the little Angler, with crooked pin for hook, Would shun each noisy wrangler, to fish the murm'ring brook. mt The Angler's Progress. ii. Then next I bought some farthing hooks, and eke a horse-hair line ; An hazel rod, with whale-bone top, my play-mates to outshine ; With which I soon aspired to angle with a float, And where I could not fish from shore, I angled from a boat; Then Roach and Dace, and Bleak I took, and Gudgeons without end, And now and then a Pearch I ;d hook, which made my rod to bend: And thus the little Angler, pleas'd with his line and hook, Would shun each noisy wrangler, to fish the murm'ring brook. III. Bream, Chub, and Barbel, next I sought, their various haunts I try'd, With scower'd worms, greaves, cheese, and paste, and various baits beside; With hooks of Kirby-bent well chose, and gut that's round and fine, So by gradations thus I rose to fish with running line; A multiplying winch I bought, wherewith my skill to try, And so expert myself! thought, few with me now could vie: The Anglers Progress. And thus the little Angler, with rod, and line, and hook, Would shun each noisy wrangler, to fish the murm'ring brook. IV. My mind on Trolling now intent, with live and dead snap-hook ; I seldom to the rivers went, but Pike or Jack I took | Near banks of bull-rush, sedge, and reed ; (a dark and windy day:) And if the Pike were on their feed, I rarely miss'd my prey. If baits are fresh, and proper size, no matter what's the sort, At Gudgeons, Roach, or Dace they '11 risej with all by turns I Ve sport. So now a dext'rous Angler, with rod, and line, and hook, I shunn'd each noisy wrangler, to fish the murm'ring brook. V. And now to cast a fly-line well, became my chiefest wish; I strove each sportsman to excel, and cheat the nimble fish; Now Trout and Grayling I could kill, if gloomy was the day, The Angler's Progress. And Salmon also, at my will,. became an easy prey; Now flies and palmers I could dress, aquatic insects too, And all their various seasons guess, their uses well I knew : So now a dext'rous Angler, with line, and rod, and hook, I shunn'd each noisy wrangler, to fish the murm'ring brook. VI. So now to close this charming scene, which none but sportsmen feel, Be sure you keep the Golden Mean, nor arm your hearts with steel: The fish with moderation take, and to the Fair be kind ; And ne'er with them your promise break, but virtue keep in mind : So Wives and Sweethearts now let's drink, let each man fill his glass, And may we never speak or think, to disconcert our Lass !— Then, when our lines are all worn out, and feeble grows the hook, They '11 ne'er forget the Angler, that angled in the brook. HERMAN BOAZ. ^ dftsl)er's ^arlantj FOR 182 I. The Fishers Garland. [This Garland, the joint production of Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday, appeared as a broadside printed by John Booth, Newcastle, April 5, 1821, headed by t e woodcut which is used at p. 24, " Bewick's iEsop's Fables," 1818, signed '* R. R." Two hundred copies were printed for Emerson Charnley—woodcut on title as used at p. 148, " Select Fables," 1820, and similar to (but smaller) and reversed, from the cut at p. 45 " Fisher's Spring Day," 1808. Printed in the " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—" The Miller o'Dron.' jULD Nature now revived seems, Cauld Winter's blasts are fled; And freely flow the sunny streams O'er Coquet's pebbly bed, The mellow thrush, frae Dews-hill wood, Proclaims the dawn of day, And to the Coquet's crystal flood The Fisher wends his way. Then luck be to the Angler Lads, Luck to the rod and line; Wi' morn's first beam we'll wade the stream, The night we'll wet wi' wine. IO mm The Fisher's Garland. i Nae mair we '11 fish the coaly Tyne, Nae mair the oozy Team, Nae mair we '11 try the sedgy Pont, Or Derwent's woody stream ; But we '11 awa' to Coquet-side, For Coquet bangs them a'; Whose winding streams sae sweetly glide By Brinkburn's bonny Ha'.. Then luck, &c. And we '11 prepare our limber gads, Lang lines, and braw brass wheels; We '11 wile the Trouties frae their hauds, And soon fill a' our Creels : We '11 catch them here, we '11 catch them there, Wi' mennim, bait, andfiee/ We '11 thousands kill, wi' hook and hair, *Tween Thirlmoor and the sea. Then luck. &*c. At Weldon Brig there's wale o' wine, If ye hae coin i' pocket ; If ye can thraw a heckle fine, There's wale o' trouts i' Coquet. And we will quaff the bluid-red wine, Till Weldon's wa's shall reel; We '11 drink success to hook and line, And a' wha bear the* creel. Then luck, &c. The Fisher's Garland. ii If ony Dolt, our song that hears, Abuse the rod and fly, May he, to pay him for his jeers, " Have other fish to fry!" If ony Witling dare to lash The Lads wha make the cast, May he, to pay him for his clash, Dance in a line at last! Then luck, &*c. And O ! in all their angling bouts, On Coquet, Tyne, or Reed, Whether for Maidens or for Trouts, May Anglers still succeed! By Pont or Coquet, Tyne or Team, In sunshine or in rain, May Fisher ne'er put foot in stream, Or hand in purse in vain! Then luck, &*c. The sun is on the mountain side, The daisy on the sod, The river sparkles in his pride, Then, Fishers, take the rod. Since summer-beams begin to dart, To streamy Weldon post, And he shall have the lightest heart, Whose Creel shall weigh the most. 12 The Fisher's Garland. Then luck be to the Angler Lads, Luck to the rod and line; WV morn's first beam we'll wade the stream, The night we '11 wet wi' wine. ROBERT ROXBY. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, $th April 1821. The Fisher's Garland. 13 "THE MILLER O' DRON." gfef^ m^F^ Jnh ^^mi^m^^m 0m^^m^^m fe^g^Ns^^B^^ ^Es^Ej^* ES£E f^^^^is^^g * -• ilf g=Sg =p~ry~i FH=^qF4==t===P =^pl mstmg^r -^y~ =^=^ -^—*- %ty jftefyer's Variant? FOR l822. J Tyne Side. [Written by William Gill Thompson, revised and improved by the Rev. Henry Cotes, Vicar of Bedlington. Two hundred and ninety-one copies printed for Emerson Charnley, June 2,1824. Woodcut on title—view of St Nicholas' steeple, and the old castle of New- castle-on-Tyne in the distance.] Tune—" Canny Newcassel." OW night has resign'd the soft mantle of sleep, And the stars are away slowly creeping; The young day has broken behind the far steep, And the lark on her free wing is sweeping; The wild rose is sweet in the green-scented lane, With the woodbine so gaily entwining; The daisies are bright on the dew-spangled plain, In the face of the firmament shining. CHORUS. Then hey for the fisher, the creel, and the gad, And hey for the scenes of his pleasure; On Tyne's smiling sides, with a heart light and glad, How he waves up the glittering treasure! Let high-flier fishermen sing of their streams, Away on the Tweed or the Coquet; Give me the sweet wave where the black di'mond beams, Like the glance from the sky-seeking rocket \ i8 Tyne Side. Far dearer to me is the slime-cover'd strand, Where old Tyne in his majesty wanders, Than all the gay prospects, romantic and grand, Of the Tweed in its sweetest meanders. Then hey, &"c. The shores of the Coquet, the banks of the Tweed, May boast of a richer profusion Of all that is sweetest in flower or in weed, To deck the dim haunts of seclusion; But oh! in their sunny time, never will they, In the zenith of all their gay shining, So dear be to me as the rude banks of clay O'er the Tyne's rapid progress reclining. Then hey, &°c. For there, in the spring-time of youth and its joy, When the bright eye is beaming with gladness, When hope, love, and pleasure, each moment employ, And time is unrobed of its sadness, How sweetly the fleet-winged moments have fled, While each innocent pastime pursuing; When no pang felt the heart, and no pain knew the head, And our pleasures were ever renewing. Then hey, dr-c. The fisher may smile by his far-away stream, As he marks his faint victim* s last quiver \ He may smile in contempt at the bard and his theme, But still thou art dear, " shining river;" Tyne Side. 19 And gay are the tenants that people thy flood, And elate are the bosoms that catch them, Oh! the hearts! and the scenes where those light hearts have stood! Ye may walk the wide world ere ye match them. Then hey, &c. But, away! see ! the sun stands aloft in the sky, And the trouts from the cool stream are leaping, With the lithe taper rod, and the well-sorted fly, (While dull moralisers are sleeping,) We '11 brush the bright dew from the soft-waving blade, Till we reach some sweet spot on thy border, Romantic and rude, as by nature's hand made, Where we '11 put our trim tackle in order. Then hey, &>c. At the Team or the Hazzacks, wherever we meet, Nor in deeps nor in shallows we '11 spare them, In the dark woody Verwent's secluded retreat, With the fly or the worm will we snare them ! And further up yet, where the scenes of old days Can fill a brief page with their story, We '11 conquer again !—be as proud of our bays, As the heroes who 've left us their glory. Then hey, &c. And when by the skill of our long-practis'd art, We have fill'd up each creel to its cover, When slowly, with many a glance back, we depart, And the zest of our pastime is over; mm 20 Tyne Side. When the deep glow of sunset is red on the sea, When the songsters all homeward are hieing, When the curtain of night is spread dark o'er the lea, Still to Tyne will our fancies be flying ! Then hey, 6°r. Still to Tyne and its scenes, in the gay circle warm, When the glass round the table is wheeling, We '11 fondly revert, and recount every charm, While our chorus resounds to the ceiling; And again, o'er the bowl! while unmark'd the hours fly, In fancy, we '11 hook the bright treasure, And bumpers, the deepest that sorrow defy, We '11 drain to our innocent pleasure. Then hey for the fisher, the creel, and the gad, And hey for the scenes of his pleasure; On Tyne's smiling sides, with a heart light and glad, How he waves up the glittering treasure! WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. Newcastle, 6th May 1822. cares? Tyne Side. 21 'CANNY NEWCASSEL." -g—r zSz ^3= _ii..,_^. ^=^ee^ #-■ ^ p—i « I ^ f p ., %-. f *% .i =H p—fetBg^ S=s *=l= r FT" 4—«—y—— -*tH **=a£= mj=rt=^^g =g±±=BgJ. i W^f I Cf)e jftsfjer'g (HarlantJ FOR l82^. Coquet Side. [This Garland, the joint production of Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday, appeared as a broadside, entitled " Coquet=side, or the Fisher's Garland for 1823, Newcastle." Signed R. R. No printer's name. And also, in a similar form, entitled " The Angler's Song in praise of the Coquet." Printed by P. Blair, Newgate Street, Morpeth—headed by a Bacchanalian woodcut, inscribed "Angler's Inn, Weldon Bridge." " Auld Weldon, whose cellars and streams never fail." At foot a woodcut with shooters and dog. One hundred and ninety-six copies were printed for Emerson Charnley, December 20, 1823. Woodcut on title, as used at p. 42, " Select Fables," 1820. Fifty copies were presented to Mr Doubleday.] Tune—" They may rail at this life." HE Lambs they are feeding on lonely Shill-moor, And the breezes blow softly o'er dark Simonside; The birds they are lilting in every green bower, And the streams of the Coquet now merrily glide. The Primrose is blooming at Halystane Well, And the bud's on the Saugh, and the bonny Birk tree; The Moorcocks are calling round Harbottlefell, And the snaw-wreaths are gane frae the Cheviot sae hie. The mist's on the mountain, the dew's on the spray, And the Lassie has kilted her coats to the knee; The Shepherd he's whistling o'er Barrahurn brae, And the sunbeams are glintin' far over the sea 26 Coquet Side. Then we '11 off to the Coquet, with hook, hair, and heckle, With our neat taper Gads, and our well-belted Creels, And far from the bustle and din o' Newcastle, Begin the Campaign at the streams o' Linn-shiels. The "Nimrod" may brag of his horns and his hounds, And of louping o'er hedges and ditches may rave; But what's all their clamour, their rides, and their rounds, Compar'd with the murmur of Coquet's clear wave % And " Ramrod" may crack of his Pointer so staunch, And may tramp tifl he's weary o'er stubble and lea; But what's all the fun of the dog and the gun, Compar'd with the " Lang-rod," and thrawing the flee ? More big of our Conquests than great Alexander, We'll rise to our sport with the morning's first beam Our creels shall grow heavier as onward we wander, And levy large tribute from pool and from stream. We '11 plunder the deeps, and the shallows we '11 tax well, Till Sharperton, Hepple, and Thropton are past; We'll halt near the Thrum for a Dinner with Maxwell, But land at our old Home of Weldon at last. Now Crag-end is past, and now Brinkburn is nearest, Now the green braes of Tod-stead, the pride of the Vale, Then, hey! for fam'd Weldon, to Anglers the dearest, Old Weldon, whose Cellars and streams never fail; There we '11 talk of our triumphs, and boast of our slaughter, How "we hook'd him, and pla/d him, and kilTd him so fine; And the battle so gloriously finish'd in water, Again and again we '11 fight over in wine. Coquet Side. 27 Here's good luck to the Gad, and success to each friend on't; If e'er prayer of mine can have interest above, May they run their line smoothly, nor soon see an end on't, And their course be as clear as the streams that they love ! May the current of life still spread glitt'ring before them, And their joys ever rise as the season draws nigh ; And if e'er—as 'twill happen—Misfortune comes o'er them, Oh! still may her dart* fall as light as their fly! ROBERT ROXBY. L THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. j ^^^^^^jnTi Coquet Side. " THEY MAY RAIL AT THIS LIFE." Con Sfiirito. £ \ ^"""^ ^ Cf)e jfteljer's (^arlanti FOR 1824. p H fflfw^&^T^^ ^^^^o v M EM^^'^^^Pi M|^^SS^| The Auld Fishers Welcome to Coquet-Side. [The joint production of Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. Woodcut on title —man angling—designed and engraved by Isaac Nicholson of Newcastle, March 10, 1824, for which he charged fourteen shillings. Three hundred and four copies printed March 25,1824, of which one hundred were presented to Mr Roxby. The block is in Bohn's possession, and figures in "Walton's Angler," p. 177, 1856, and in "Hofland's Angler's Manual," p. 319, 1848, as the work of Bewick. Published in " Coquetdale Fishing Songs," 1852, and in "Dibdin's Northern Tour." Allan Cunningham, in the "Songs of Scotland," 1825, introduced this "Garland" with the following observations:—"This clever song is the.work of an Englishman; and had it come from a Caledonian bard, the costume of language, and the spirit of the ' North Countrie,' could not have been more perfect. It is one ofthe annual "Fisher's Garlands" which Newcastle sends forth to the world, and to which the graver of Bewick adds such charms of truth and nature as seldom accompany lyric poetry. In reading the song, a trout stream, slightly swelled by an upland shower, gushes out upon one's fancy,—a rod comes into our hand, we cast a careful line upon the rippling water, we watch the well-dissembled flies, and our patience is rewarded by casting 'a trout bedropp'd wi' crimson hail' upon the grassy bank. Burns, who went to angle in the Nith with a huge fur cap on, and a Highland broadsword by his side, knew little of the art compared to my excellent friend of Newcastle."] Tune—"Auld Lang Syne." E twa hae fish'd the Kale sae clear, An' streams o' mossy Reed, We 've try'd the Wansheck an' the Wear, The Teviot an' the Tweed; An' we will try them ance again When summer suns are fine, An' we '11 thraw the flee thegither yet For the days o' lang syne. 32 The Auld Fisher's Welcome For gie's a drappie till our cheek, Our ain gad in our han'; The tackle tough, the heckle rough, An' match us yet wha can ! 'Tis mony years sin' first we met On Coquet's bonny braes, An' mony a brither fisher's gane, An' clad in his last claes: An' we maun follow wi' the lave, Grim Death he heuks us a'; But we '11 hae anither fishing bout Afore we 're ta'en awa'. For gie's, &*t,. For we are hale an' hearty baith, Though frosty are our pows, We still can guide our fishing graith, An' climb the dykes and knowes; We '11 mount our creels an' grip our gads, An' thraw a sweeping line, An' we '11 hae a plash amang the lads For the days o' lang syne. For gie's, <&c. Though Cheviot's top be frosty still, He's green belaw the knee, Sae don your plaid, an' tak your gad, An' gang awa' wi' me. to Coquet Side. 33 Come busk your flees, my auld compeer, We 're fidgin' a' fu' fain, We 've fish'd the Coquet mony a year, An' we '11 fish her owre again. For gie's, <5r>c. An' hameward when we todle back, An' night begins to fa', When ilka chiel maun tell his crack, We '11 crack aboon them a'— When jugs are toom'd an' coggies wet, I '11 lay my loof in thine; We 've shewn we 're guid at Water yet, An' we 're little warse at Wine. For gie's, &>c. We '11 crack how mony a creel we Ve fiU'd, How mony a line we 've flung, How mony a Ged an' Sawmon kill'd In days when we were young; We '11 gar the callants a' look blue, An' sing anither tune ; They 're bleezing aye o' what they '11 do, We '11 tell them what we 've dune. CHORUS. For gie's a drappie till our cheek, Our ain gad in our han' ; The tackle tough, the heckle rough, An' match us yet wha can ! Newcastle, March 1824. ROBERT ROXBY. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. 34 The Auld Fisher's Welcome, &c. AULD LANG SYNE." n Moderato. . ffi I J" 1 J • <r-l——1 '• ^ * • ' lr J'l H 0 ^ p r—\ s—i\ N~i—* 1 . ~x' r W i 1 j a , ■ ft ~f~~frj * :N srs r ' -^tr 1 4 ->—H-fc—•- d • • ' 1 1r . P J. V ■ 1 -•' * - * / • ^J» s • 01 . f I r-=> PV-i i—i—s * b i r"—=r^ 1 c ■ f i vi " • r f•» J 1 J \ j / i *• •? ii\> : - / ■ .....J_J!_••#, * ■ 4s 4 • $ ULS w—-—!1J L- <i ^ ' 1 L-s4—gj §a=£z£ | Is* |S ft |S -|s E^E S==^i= • • <jt- Cf)e C#ne jfte^et's jfaretoell TO HIS FAVOURITE STREAM ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER. The Tyne Fishers Farewell TO HIS FAVOURITE STREAM ON THE APPROACH OF WINTER. [The first fragmentary sketch of this Garland is in the holograph of the Rev. Henry Cotes, Vicar of Bedlington ; and it appears to have been remodelled and completed by WiHiam Gill Thompson in December 1824. To form a comparison with the Garland as it now stands, I give the finished portions of the sketch :— To all thy charming scenes, Old Tyne, Farewell! Outspread from shore to shore, Deforming beauties, lately thine, See now bleak Winter's mantle hoar! No more thy skilful sons advance With joy the finny tribes to raise, But look, with fond reverted glance, For milder skies and happier days. Not now as erst the enamour'd maid Trips lightly o'er the well-known plain To meet beneath the woodbine's shade Upon thy banks her faithful swain. 4- His morning hymn amidst the dew. Torpid they pass the freezing hours In deep recess ..... Dissolving all chill Winter's snows. And were I now o'er thee to wave, 'Twould seem I trampled on the grave 38 The Tyne Fisher's Farewell. 5 on days gone by, I see thee shorn of grace, and sigh, Thankful for joys thou'st given to me ! And see the snowflakes o'er it spread, A silent tear steals from mine eye. &c. I &c. &c. Thompson writes with the remodelled manuscript, "I think this will do." Two hundred and ninety-two copies were printed for Emerson Charnley, April 12, 1825. Woodcut on title—Winter Scene, designed in India ink by William Collard, and engraved March 1, 1825, by Isaac Nicholson, for which he charged thirty shillings. After the disposal of the blocks used in this and the other Garlands, Mr Dodd, Charnley's successor, finding he had a few copies of all the other Garlands except this one, reprinted about twelve copies of it, (using a woodcut on title—Angler wading, with rod and landing net; castle in the distance,) to complete the sets, so that in the last issue this variation will be found. They have all been out of print for some time. The original block is in Bohn's possession, and appears in his edition of " Select Fables,'' p. 132.] Tune—" Good-night and joy be wi' you a " AREWELL, old Tyne ! thy beauteous shores ! Farewell to all thy sylvan shades! Bleak Winter' now his fury pours, And every muchrloved haunt pervades. No more thy healthy sons advance With joy thy finny tribes to raise, But look with fond reverted glance To milder skies and happier days! No more the sweet enamour'd maid Trips lightly o'er the well-known plain, To meet, beneath the woodbine's shade, Upon thy banks, her faithful swain. Alone I mark thy waters glide, Alone I greet their murmuring swell; Upon thy wave-worn hallow'd side Alone I breathe my brief farewell The Tyne Fisher's Farewell. 39 The leaves have left each parent tree, The fragrant flowers have bloom'd to die, The star-like daisy's left the lea; There's naught to greet my weary eye ! No more the wobdbine sheds afar Its sweets along the scented lanes; Now hail and sleet and bleak winds war Tumultuous o'er thy joyless plains. Thy trouts have fled their favourite haunts, No more they spring to greet my view, As when the herald-warbler chants His morning hymn amid the dew! Apart they pass their torpid hours, In deep recess no Fisher knows, Till lovely Spring revives thy bowers, Dissolving all chill Winter's snows ! Mine own sweet stream! thy rugged shores Are stripp'd of all their vesture sheen, And dark December's fury roars Where grace and loveliness have been ! Stream of my heart! I cannot tread Thy shores so bleak, so barren now; They seem as though thy joys were dead, And cloud With care my cheerless brow"! And, moving on thy banks to wave Aloft my lightsome rod of power, To me seems trampling on the grave Of many a bright and happy hour! 4o T lne Tyne Fishers Farewell. Thus, as I muse on days gone by, I cannot time my thoughts to glee ; To see thee sad without a sigh Were base ingratitude in me! And as I stand upon thy shore And see the snow-flakes o'er it spread, I think upon that vesture hoar Which Time may fling upon my head ; And as I mark thy cheerless rush, A silent tear steals from mine eye, For then I think upon the gush Of Time into Eternity 1 Symbolic stream! how deep the truth Thy rapid flight to me reveals! So from the sunny fields of youth To frozen age our progress steals ! And as thy softly murmuring wave Is lost in boundless ocean's roar, So man descends into the grave, And sees his fellow-man no more I But soon, sweet stream ! thy leafless bowers Will bud in vernant beauty fair, And on thy banks the fragrant flowers Will shed their balm upon the air ! The birds, amid their leafy boughs, Will sing melodious far and near; And in thy shades the lover's vows Fall sweetly on his loved one's ear! The Tyne Fisher's Farewell. 41 And I, upon thy banks, once more With joy will hail each lovely scene, Glance all thy countless beauties o'er, And be as blithe as I have been ! But now, sweet stream ! I cannot tread Thy shores so bleak, so barren now; They seem as though thy joys were dead, And cloud with saddening care my brow ! WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. December 1824. 42 The Tyne Fisher's Farewell. ml " GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY BE WI' YE A'." ^m^m ggfffiaif 1e= m£d rt- *=t¥=2*=P -j*5=t±=*. & i 2. J _J L (-•—f— r—a-*—\-r~ % + ^V-j=PgiI]!]-Jlzzz=qF^: IPS 4, 1 |s r^i *=- ^i=& II n fl #^## ^^ E^jEE^ Clje jftsfyer's (^atlautj FOR 1825. The Auld Fisher's Fareweel to Coquet. [Two hundred and ninety copies were^printed for Emerson Charnley, March 26, 1825, and "one hundred copies presented to the author," (Robert Roxby,) though the Garland is the joint production of Roxby and Doubleday. Woodcut on title—landscape with angler plugged in—by Isaac Nicholson. Published in " Coquetdale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—" Gramachree." OME bring to me my limber gad I 've fish'd wi' mony a year, An' let me hae my weel-worn creel, An' a' my fishing gear; The sunbeams glint on Linden-Ha\ • The breeze comes frae the west, An' lovely looks the gowden morn On the streams that I like best. I 've thrawn fhe flee thae sixty year, Ay, sixty year an' mair, An' monie a speckled Troutie kill'd Wi' Heckle, heuk, an' hair ; An' now I 'm auld an' feeble grown, My locks are like the snaw, But I '11 gang again to Coquet-side, An' take a fareweel thraw. 46 The Auld Fisher's O Coquet! in my youthfu' days Thy river sweetly ran, An' sweetly down thy woody braes The bonnie birdies sang; But streams may rin, an' birds may sing, Sma' joy they bring to me, The blithesome strains I dimly hear, The streams I dimly see. But, ance again, the weel-kenn'd sounds My minutes shall beguile, An' glistering in the airly sun I '11 see thy waters smile ; An' Sorrow shall forget his sigh, An' Age forget his pain, An' ance mair, by sweet Coquet-side, My heart be young again. Ance mair I '11 touch wi' gleesome foot Thy waters clear and cold, Ance mair I '11 cheat the gleg-e'ed trout, An' wile Jhim frae his hold; Ance mair, at Weldon's frien'ly door, I '11 wind my tackle up, An' drink " Success to Coquet-side," Though a tear fa' in the cup. An' then fareweel, dear Coquet-side! Aye gaily may thou rin, An' lead thy waters sparkling on, An' dash frae linn to linn : — Fareweel to Coquet. 47 Blithe be the music o' thy streams An' banks through after-days, An' blithe be every Fisher's heart Shall ever tread thy Braes! ROBERT ROXBY. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, April r825. -mzm^^p^mgm ^^E^j^^E^g^E^^ ft 1 C&e jftel)er'a ^atlanti FOR 1826. "The Coquet for Ever!" [Four hundred copies of this Garland, the^Jbint production of Roxby and Doubleday, were printed for Emerson Charnley, April 15, 1826. Woodcut on title copied from vignette by Bewick, at p. 52, vol. ii. " British Birds," 1805, and engraved by Isaac Nicholson, for which he charged twenty-five shillings. "Bewick was annoyed at the liberty." The same subject was re-engraved for the Garland for 1844. Published in the " Coquet- dale Fishing Songs," 1852, and the first and last stanzas in " Dibdin's Northern Tour."] Tune—" Oh, whistle, an' I '11 come to you, my lad." HAVE sung thee, clear Coquet,—I'll sing thee again, From Harden's bleak fell to the deep-rolling main, And the Alwine and Wreigh in the garland shall shine, For they mix, lovely river, their waters wi' thine. In my youth I have danced on your bonny green braes; In my old age I think on these dear happy days ; In your streams I have angled, and caught the scaled fry, And your streams they shall live, tho' their beds should run dry. Chorus—And your streams, &c. I will sing of the Coquet, the dearest of themes, The haunt of the Fisher, the first of a' streams ; There's nane like the Coquet in a' the king's land, From the cliffs of famed Dover to North Britain's strand : smr- I 52 : The Coquet for Ever ! The Coquet for ever, the Coquet for aye ! The Woodhall and Weldon, and Felton so gay, And Brinkburn and Linden, wi' a' their sweet pride, For they add to the beauties of dear Coquet-side. For they, &>c. The Fishers for ever, the Fishers for aye ! The Summer is coming, cold Winter's away; Come, lads, don your jackets, get ready your creels, Your hooks and your heckles, your gads and their wheels; There's nought at Newcastle but tumult and noise, There's health at the Coquet, and fishing's calm joys, And a thousand dear prospects will gladden our e'e When wading the water and thrawing the flee. When wading, &>c. The Fishers for ever, the Fishers for aye ! Oh! who like the Lads o' the Creel shall be gay 1 If variety's charming, then fishing's the best, Each turn and each stream has its different zest; The gale when it blows, and the sun when he smiles. And the clouds when they frown, help a fisherman's wiles; He meets a fresh flower every step of his way: The Fishers for ever, the Fishers for aye ! The Fishers, &>c. Oh! how should a Fisherman ever be old1? There's wrinkles in Glory, there's wrinkles in Gold, And Love has his sorrows as well as his joys, And Power is made up but of glitter and noise; " The Coquet for Ever! 53 Such gewgaws as these let the Fisherman scorn, He's glorious at night, and light-hearted at morn, With a cheek full of health, be it hot, be it cold, Oh! how should a Fisherman ever be old % Oh ! how, &>c. The Coquet for ever, the Coquet for aye ! The Coquet, the King o' the stream an' the brae, Frae his high mountain throne to his bed in the sea, Oh! where shall we find such a River as he 1 Then blessings be on him, and lang may he glide, The Fisherman's home, and the Fisherman's pride ; From Hardens green hill to old Warkworth sae gray, The Coquet for ever, the Coquet for aye ! The Coquet, &c. ROBERT ROXBY. | THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. j Newcastle, April 1825. I 54 I The Coquet for Ever !" < OH, WHISTLE, AN' I 'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD!" Fine. l£ fefczzi^ -F==^: ^^£^§Sil^i ijfe^§^fe^gp£i^ &2=t£=$=2z pBSaHp^^^lBi li fet » aj 1 a 0 Z>. C. al Fine. w^m -0—»—0- FOR 1827. The Fishers Call. [Originally bearing the title of " The Fisher's Call" for 1827; subsequently altered to " The Fisher's Garland," by William Greene. Three hundred copies were printed for Emerson Charnley. Woodcut on title altered from vignette at p. 154, " Select Fables," 1820. Verses 1, 4, 6, 7, 10, 11, and 12 were published in the " Newcastle Magazine" for May 1822, signed " Izaak Walton the younger." The only variation in the verses, exclusive of number, is in the third line of the first verse, where (in the Magazine copy) " bright glancing rain" is written, instead of " warm sunny rain."] I HE winter blast's dead and the spring breezes blow; If the haughs are patch'd white, 'tis with daisies, not snow; The earth for foul sleet drinks the warm sunny rain; Then, my boys, let us off to the Coquet again. Down the hills leap bright feeders released from their chains; The very dry heather feels blood in its veins; All nature is stirring; strong lambs on the lea, Blithe birds on the bough, shew how backward are 'we. The primrose peeps out on the edge of the burn, With a doubtful pale face lest old Hyems return; Whilst the delicate perfume betrays it as clear That her purple-frock'd playfellow hides herself near. 58 The Fisher's Call. The bloodhounds of glory, unkennelling now, Are taking the field, as we fishers will do; But with fly-rods, not muskets, we march to attack, And no knapsack for us, but the creel at the back. The skylark and blackbird.our bugles shall blow, And the roll of our drums be the river's hoarse flow; Our flags are unfurling on every tree; And I think we all guess where our quarters shall be. The waters curl freely beneath the west gale, And come down from the moors like the berry-brown ale; Unfish'd are the slacks and unthrash'd are the streams, And we '11 make our exploits beat our sanguinest dreams. We'll tempt them with black, and we'll tempt them with gray; Ay, the skeggers shall yield if they come in our way; We '11 raise them in shallow, we '11 raise them in deep, In the pool's smoothest stretch and the stream's roughest sweep. There's not a rude brae which the current makes wroth, Nor an angry eddy, bewhirling in froth, Nor a single old stone with a white beard of foam, But shall pay for our visit before we win home. Our flies will sweep here and our flies will float there, As we try all the sleights of hook, feather, and hair; Quick jerking out small and slo\v leading out great; Nor cease till gall'd shoulders complain of the weight. B The Fisher's Call. 59 The minnow in summer its monsters can kill, And the worm loads your pannier when nothing else will; But give me the spring-time, the light-dropping hackle, And the masterly cast with the finest of tackle. Like a sensitive nerve is the long, taper line, That doth from the tenuous fly-rod decline; And the leap of the fish, with electrical start, Strikes swift through the hand, on the high-bounding heart. When the gods deign to hear our petitions of bliss, Though we frame each a first, our joint second is this, In the sweet-flowing waters of Coquet to stand, With the creel on the back, and the rod in the hand. WILLIAM GREENE. Newcastle, April 1827. w *%>& Jftetjer's (^arlatiti FOR 1828. The Fishers Call. [Written by Thomas Doubleday for one of Mr Alaric Watts's "Annual Souvenirs" and introduced by Mr Charnley to fill a hiatus in "the Garlands." Air—"Bob and Joan." Three hundred copies printed for Emerson Charnley, Nov. 25th, 1829. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 142, " Select Fables," 1820. Block in Bohn's possession, introduced p. 101, "Walton's Angler," 1856, as Bewick's. Published in "Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—" Bob and Joan.'' j]HE thorn is in the bud, The palm is in the blossom, The primrose, in the shade, Unfolds her dewy bosom; Sweet Coquet's purling clear, And summer music making; The trout has left his lair : Then waken, fishers, waken. The lav'rock 's in the sky, And on the heath the plover, The bee upon the thyme, The swallow skimming over; The farmer walks the field, The seed he's casting steady; The breeze is blowing west: Be ready, fishers, ready. 64 The Fisher's Call. The violet's in her prime, And April is the weather; The partridge on the wing, The muircock in the heather; The sun's upon the pool, His mornin' radiance wasting, It's glittering like the gold :' Oh! hasten, fishers, hasten. The Felton lads are up, They're lookin' to their tackle, The sawmon's in the stream, And killing is the hackle. If there's a feat to do, 'Tis Weldon boys should do it; Then up an' rig your gads, And to it, fishers, to it. Newcastle, April 1828. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. The Fisher's Call. 65 'BOB AND JOAN." as 3=£3=5 ^^ =£*= .9 #_ P^pttf£?rm^i3-hr=f I =5=T=F ^m ^^ iU_g-rj-^£=£ Clje jftsfyer's <^atlanti FOR 1829. The Old Fishers Challenge. [By Thomas Doubleday. Three hundred copies printed for Emerson Charnley. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette, at p. 60, " Select Fables," 1820; two horses and rider expunged, and Angler plugged in. Published in " Co:nietdale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—" Boyne Water." (Old Set.) H ! let it be in April-tide, But one of April's best, A mornin' that seems made o' May, In dews an' sunshine drest; Frae off the Crags o' Simonside, Let the fresh breezes blaw, And let auld Cheviot's sides be green, Albeit his head be snaw. Chorus—Frae off the Crags, &>c. Let the stream glitter i' the sun, The curl be on the pool, The rash gale rufflin' aye its face Aneath the Alders cool: Or if the Spring will have her clouds, Then let them pass me soon; Or, if they take a thought and stay, Then let it be at noon. Or if the Spring, &*c. 70 The Old Fisher's Challenge. Oh ! freshly from his mountain holds Comes down the rapid Tyne;— But Coquet's still the stream o' streams, So let her still be mine; There's mony a sawmon lies in Tweed, An' mony a trout in Till; But Coquet—Coquet aye for me, If I may have my will. There's mony a sawmon, &v. Let it be " stream an' stream about,"— Or if that mayna be, Take off old Coquet where ye like From Thirlmore to the sea; But leave to me the streams I love, The streams that know my hand, An' " weight to weight" with the best he That's in Northumberland. But leave to me, &=c. Let me begin at Brinkburn's stream, Fast by the Ruins gray, An' end at bonny Eely-haugh, Just wi' the endin' day. My foremost flee, the heckle red, My tried Rod springm* free,— An' " creel to creel"—wi' ony man In a' the North Countrie! The Old Fisher's Challenge. 7i My foremost flee, the heckle red, My tried Rod springin' free,— An' " creel to creel"^wi' ony man In a? the North Countrie! Newcastle, April 1829. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. In I 72 The Old Fisher's Challenge. " BOYNE WATER." (Old Set.) Con Fuoco. f^=p^^s^^^H ze^= m *^ JE^^fe^fe^g £= i mmi^mm m I— Ci)e tfisfytx'8 <&atlatti> FOR 183O. The Old Anglers Triumph. [Though signed R. R., this Garland is from the pen of Thomas Doubleday, revised (?) by Roxby. No record ofthe number of copies printed, though Martin (Bibliographical Catalogue) mentions three hundred. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 70, " Select Fables," 1820. Published in " Coquetdale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—"Auld Sir Simon.' T Shilmore they 're guid at the mennim; At Felton they 're guid at the flee; Lang Rothbury's streams for the brandlin'; But Weldon, old Weldon for me ! The Sharperton codgers are cunnin'; At Thropton they're guid at a thraw—■■ But up wi' the bonnie red heckle,— The heckle that tackled them a'! Chorus—But up, &>c. The Black-flee is guid when it's airly \ The May-flee is deadly in Spring; The Midge-flee may do in fair weather; For foul, Sawmon-roe is the king j— But let it be late or be airly, The water be drumly or sma', Still up wi' the bonnie red heckle, The heckle that tackled them a'! Still up, &c. F*1^ 76 The Old Anglers Triumph. In April, they thresh'd for a wager, Through June, they were trollin' like mad, The shade-fishin' skulkers in July Went shnkin' for what could be had; An' every man cam wf his pannier, An' wha' but maun gie them the wa' ? Till they heard o' the bonnie red heckle, The heckle that tackled them a'! Till they, &c. There was some they went out in the gloamin', And some they got up wi' -the lark; Some poach'd wi' a net i' the morning, An' some they laid traps i' the dark : But that for their meshin' and threshin'! Fish fair, or contrary to law; Still it's up wi' the bonnie red heckle, The heckle that tackled them a'! Still it's up, &c. The Tweed he may brag o' his sawmon, An' blaw of his whitlins the Till, There's pikes i' the pools o' Reed-water, But Coquet's the top o' them still; So fill up your broad brimmin' glasses, An' fishermen stand in a raw, An'—Success to the bonnie red heckle^ The heckle that*tackled them a'! An'—Success, <y>c. The Old Angler's Triumph. 77 There's wine i' the cellars o' Weldon, If ye ken the turn o' the key; There's bonnie braw lasses on Coquet, If ye ken the blink o' their e'e; There's braw yellow trouts up at Brinkburn, If ye ken the place where to thraw; So here's to the bonnie red heckle, The heckle that tackled them a'! CHORUS. So here's to the bonnie red heckle, The heckle that tackled them a'! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, August 1830. 78 The Old Anglers Triumph. 'AULD SIR SIMON." Con Spirito. fc ^a / -9- =*-* j ^ rja^— i=T:=b—T-4—F-W=H 1 r i v-i p^^^^^^^N^^A Cl)e jftstyer's <f£arlant> FOR I 83 I. The Tyne Fishers Call. [By William Gill Thompson. No record of number of copies, though Martin mentions three hundred. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 68, I \ Select Fables," 1820. Thompson writes, under date April 12, 1830: " I send you a ' Call,' the produce of last night. If you like it, you know what to do with it; if you do not like it, you also know what to do with it," &c. In the 8th and 9th stanzas he toasts his collaborateurs :— " And him—we '11 drink to him," * &c. " And next to himf the loftier muse !" &c] Tune—" There's nae luck," &c. HE snow has left the verdant heights Which stand by rapid Tyne, And spring invites the blithesome wights Who wield the rod and line. The sun is glancing on the stream; The laVrock seeks the sky; Then rouse from each lethargic dream, And forward, fishers, hie! CHORUS. Oh ! gentle be the fisher's lot, Untinged with grief or care— In palace, hall—in lowly cot, May joy his bosom share! f Roxby. 82 The Tyne Fisher's Qrii. Fresh blows the "healthful freeze along From mountain, lake, and lea, And sweet—oh! sweet's the matin song The warblers carol free. The murm'ring stream invites to share The sport its bosom yields— Then, Tyneside fishers! forward, ere The dew-drops leave the fields! Oh ! gentle be, &c. Away, away !—and seek the haunts Where we have often been: The light-wing'd minstrel gaily chants In every sylvan scene. And may our lines as lightly fall As falls his cheering lay*— Then, forward!—answer still the " call" That bids us haste away. Oh ! gentle be, &°c. By By well's Tower and Prudhois steep, In ruin frowning grey, By shady Derwent, dark and deep, Secure the shining prey. Where Gibsidcs woods wave green in pride, Where Tanfield's arch springs high ; Swift, reach the rovers as they glide, And lure them as, they lie. Oh ! gentle be, &c. I The Tyne Fisher's-Call. 83 And when the day is " past his best," And thoughts of drought prevail, We '11 e'en " drop in " for breathing rest, And taste the nut-brown ale. And as it passes calmly round In reason's sober eye, We '11 tell where best the trouts were found, With brandling or withyfy. Oh ! gentle be, &°c. And when the murky night draws on, And gloomy clouds come o'er, Without a sigh for what has gone, We '11 mount our glitt'ring store ; And homeward with a heavy load, A heart and bosom light, We '11 seek again our bless'd abode, And spend a fisher's night! Oh I gentle be, &*c. And, as the bumpers fast we drain, We '11 drink to fishers rare, And blithely raise the jocund strain, The sweet and homely air. And still the toast shall gaily pass To manhood firm and free, And one full, bright, bewitching glass, Oh! Woman dear, to thee! Oh ! gentle be, &>c. 84 The Tyne Fisher's Call. And him—we '11 drink to him* who long Hath pour'd us many a lay, And wish that still his heartsome song May cheer his latest day: What though on other streams he chose To pour his fervid strains, Where yet, Old Tyne! thy current flows, His well-tried worth remains! Oh ! gentle be, &*c. And, next to him t—the loftier muse ! Who, swan-like, leads the throng— We '11 drink to him a health profuse, And varied as his song: And when the charms of other vales Shall haunt his soul no more, He '11 shed his rays around the dales By Tyne's sequester'd shore. Oh ! gentle be, &>c. And when the midnight chime is heard Announcing morning near, We 11 briefly speak the parting word, And raise the parting cheer! And then to rest with bosoms gay, With heads and hearts both sound; Till dawn-light glimmers into day, And sunshine smiles around. Robert Roxby. t Thomas Doubleday. The Tyne Fisher's Call. 85 Then forth again, like fishers strong, To seek the haunts by Tyne, And blithely, as he rolls along, To wield the rod and line ! WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. Newcastle, April 1 JP» 86 The Tyne Fisher's Call. \THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE." Allegretto. gN^^^N^PfEFE^ilpS f^ipfe^^^P^^^M^ ^#^^^^ HE~F-r-*—ft- ■FHF a^jbj^M^^^^^^ li ^f^ H^fcEpPfe^^—E %%t jftefjer'js <j£arlanti FOR 1832. if 1 The Fishers Invitation to his Friend in Newcastle. [The joint production of Robert Roxby and Thomas Doubleday. No record of the number of copies printed, though Martin gives three hundred. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette, p. xl., "Select Fables," 1820. Block now in Bohn's possession, introduced at p. 42, "Walton's Angler," 1856, and at p. 274 in "Holland's Angler's Manual," 1848, as Bewick's. Published in " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852. This terminated the first collective issue, which was very limited in number. The Garlands were sold separately at sixpence each.] Tune—"Tak' your auld Cloak about ye." HE snaws are gane frae haugh and hill, An' Coquet's streams rin merrily; An' mony a troutie we will kill If thou '11 but gang an' fish wi' me; I Ve bought a creel, I 've bought a gad, Brass wheel an' line, and tackle rare; We '11 wile the Skeggar frae his baud, An' pou him out wi' heuk and hair. I saw twa Fishers frae Linsheels, This verra day they spak wi' me, But Thursday gane they fill'd their creels, The trouts they lap sae eydently. il The Fisher's Invitation to The pools are gUtterin* ir th* beam— The primrose blooms at Brinkbum He?, The sawmon's lyin' in the stream, An' westlin' breezes saftly blaw. The laverock's liltin' i' the sky, And hails the gentle genial spring; A' nature now is rife o' joy* An' hill an* glen wi' music ring; Then grip thy gad, and don thy creel; For ilka thing there's time an' tide; Thraw beuks and bizz'ness to the Deil, An' gang awa' to Coquet-side, "A penny saved 's a penny got," An' penny greed aft makes the man, An' aye it seems to be our lot To toil for gear, do what we can. Some end as puir as they began; Some dee puff't up wi' worthless pride \ But, rich or puir, " life's but a span,"—- An' we '11 enjoy't at Coquet-side. There's mony a ane has siller ore, That finds it downa make him smile; There's mony a ane has gowden store, Wha wears a heavy heart the while. It's guid, sometimes, to stay an' toil; It's guid, sometimes, to wander free; Folk loup the dyke when there's nae stile ;- Sae aff to Coquet-side wi' me. His Friend in Newcastle. 9i A man may gloVr in mony a beuk, An* after a* may end an Ass; A man may have a hidin' neuk, An' yet be twined o' a' his brass; A man may win a tocher'd lass, An' find her but a canker* d bride ; It's pleasure gars the warld pass,— Sae up, an' aflf to Coquet-side. ROBERT ROXBY. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastlk, April 1832. „—I 92 The Fisher's Invitation, &c. <TAK' YOUR AULD CLOAK ABOUT YE." Moderato. ^^^=j^=N=g^=^^ ^B=faE±*fa^g EE£ ^a ^r^^^ fmSm IT this juncture the Garlands appear to have come to a stand-still until 1842, when William Gill Thompson resuscitated and remodelled an unpublished effort of Robert Nichol's, and placed it in the publisher's hands. Thompson writes to Garret, December 1824, (no doubt with a view to continuously inserting Nichol's Garland at that date,) " I have now, I think, made all the alterations which I imagine can be made without re-writing the piece. If you should determine upon printing it, will you be kind enough to let me see a proof, that I may satisfy myself with the punctuation*?" However, they appear to have lain dormant till March 1842, when Thompson encloses Nichol's amended manuscript with the following note:—" I think you may send poor Bob into the printer's hands; as for the additions, of course dead men are past complaining." Here is one stanza of Nichol's original composition, shewing that Thompson must have encountered tolerably uphill work to mould it into presentable form:— "When the sun in meridian breaks out, then he Sits down on the banks with the lunch on his knee. Tho' the banks of the Coquet are all very fine They can't be compared to the banks of the Tyne." This "Garland for 1833" commenced the second collective issue, published in 1842, embracing the whole series from 1820 to 1845 inclusive, though from an advertisement it appears a few copies were issued terminating with the Garland for 1840. f I Cfje jftefjer'a #atlattti FOR 1833. ill The Anglers Delight. [Originally written by Robert Nichol in 1820, and intended as the Garland for that year; remodelled in 1824 by William Gill Thompson, and issued in 1842 as the Garland for 1833. (Printed in its original form in Richardson's " Borderer's Table Book," 1846.) Two hundred and fifty copies printed for Emerson Charnley, March 25, 1842. Woodcut on title, as altered from vignette at p. 182, " Select Fables," 1820.] Tune—" The Ploughman." HEN the sunbeams are bright in the far eastern sky, The Angler departs with his rod, line, and fly; Of the vice of the town nor its folly he dreams, For his soul is wrapp'd up in the sports ofthe streams. A lunch in his pocket—a creel on his back, Up Tyneside he wanders, ne'er minding a track; Though colour'd the water, and cloudy the sky, His mind's full of hope when he puts on his fly. The thrush it sings sweet in the blithe month of May, And the air is perfumed with the early mown hay; The flowers too are blooming luxuriantly wild, And the breeze from the west comes delightfully mild. Through the air go his flies—on the water they light, As soft as if wings had assisted their flight; The trout is deceived, and then "whiz" goes the wheel- With a few plunges more, lo, he's snug in the creel! fir' 98 The Angler's Delight. But now, when in glory the sun shines on high, The fisher gives ease to his rod and his fly : And, his frame in contentment, his heart full of glee, He sits down on the banks with his lunch on his knee. And as the fair stream rolls in majesty by, With its song in his ear and its sheen on his eye, He thinks, though the banks of the Coquet are fine, They can't be compared to the banks of the Tyne ! Long, long may he think so—'tis nature that speaks Her delight ofthe scenes where his pleasure he seeks: The scenes which from boyhood have lived in his heart, And will live till life and its blessings depart! Now he fills up a bumper, with joy in his eye, And he looks to the greensward, he looks to the sky, He looks to the river whose beauties have bound him, And wishes that long may it murmur around him. Now, with spirits replenish'd and gay grateful heart, The fisher intently continues his art; Till the sun, beaming westward, illumines the dome, And the fisher thinks then of his friends and his home. His creel now o'erflowing, in gladness he goes, With firmness of nerve and with cheeks like a rose : And, his spoils being examined, his compliments sends, With a dish ofthe finest fresh trout to his friends. 11 I i The Angler's Delight. 99 Here *s success to the lad with the rod and the creel, And may all joy attend him that mortals can feel; With kindness and love, may the world on him look, Nor seek to deceive him with treachery's hook! Newcastle, May i, 1833. ROBERTlNieHOL. WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. IIWHll ioo The Angler's Delight. 'THE PLOUGHMAN.' 1 I E^^^n^^nm^B S^lpiH^l^ iS ^=fc= Si^il=? ■j?—^ EZ V—*- Efe^^M^r-^^^g — Cfce jftsfjer'si <§arlanU FOR 1834. «—■ The Morning Invitation. [By William Gill Thompson, who writes, under date March 21, 1842 : " Feeling somewhat in the humour, I have thrown off the enclosed as a Garland for some year." Two hundred and sixty copies printed for Emerson Charnley, April 1, 1842. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 230, "Select Fables," 1820.] Tune—"Ye Banks and Braes." HE sun shines high o'er Whickham's woods, And bright on Ryton's time-graced tower, And balm and beauty breathe afar From every soft and fragrant flower : The Tyne—thy native stream!—flows on, 'Mid garden fair and greensward sweet, And wafts, in course majestical, Its glittering treasures to thy feet. Then up ! away ! and taste the morn, As now it breathes on brilliant Tyne, And don the fisher's manly garb— Assume the creel, the rod, the line, And hie thee to the shining stream, As, cool, it laves green Ryton's side, And, with keen eye and practised hand, Seduce the sparklers from the tide. io4 The Morning Invitation. Then on!—where Prudhoe's time-worn walls Still brave the blast and woo the breeze, Where bright-wing'd birds, in melody, Are warbling sweetly in the trees : There lay thy true and gifted hand All lightly on the stainless waters, And strew each memory-haunting strand Thick with its finny sons and daughters ! Then on!—where By well's hallow'd glades In summer's splendour seem to hover; Where sunshine bathes each balmy grove, New sweets—new beauties—to discover: There ply the art thou lov'st so well, And, when thy stream its store has granted, Survey, with glist'ning eye, the spoil For which thy heart so thickly panted. Then through each scene retrace thy steps To where a bright, bless'd eye may mate thee ! Not bless'd the less because it had Some ling'ring moments still to wait thee : And tell it of thy morning's joy, And tell it of thy mid-day's pleasure ; And clasp its owner to thy heart, And say she is thy dearest treasure! Thus shall thy day be spent as one Who revels in the charms of nature— As one to whom the genial air Might add an increase of his stature : I_ The Morning Invitation. 105 And, at thy hearth, thy evening hour Its race of radiance shall not cease— For there thou 'It feel, as night comes on, The transports of domestic peace! WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. Newcastle, April 28,1834. Iff 106 The Morning Invitation. 'YE BANKS AND BRAES." fcfez Andante. ^^^E^g^S Ezzfi^t Q=*= S= P Si" C-^g^aziT^BZ-L-_L=zz:£ =E=^ fir^—- 2#=—f±i—m r?zpzi=pz 1^)-—U_i—Ug=—^—^=tz ^m :«H 1^- i^i =?-*- -•—P- -\r k r •-•- _,—ft—*=>,_ ^^ rStrf S^^i^^^P^@ feb=SiS y^^^g^^^^^^^ %ty $i2fyt?8 <!latlattti FOR 1835. My Glendale Friend, Will Reedy O! AN ANGLER'S GREETING. [By William Andrew Chatto, author of Stephen Oliver's " Scenes and Recollections of Fly-fishing in Northumberland, Cumberland, and Westmoreland," "Rambles in Northumberland," and the literary portion of Jackson's "Wood-Engraving." Two hundred and sixty-four copies printed for Emerson Charnley, April 10, 1842. Woodcut on title, as altered from vignette at p. 8, " Select Fables," 1820. To form some idea of the alteration in the blocks, the reader will do well to compare the cut on this Garland with the "Select Fables," as noted above. Chatto writes to Garret, (March 28, 1842,) " I enclose for your acceptance three other songs relating to angling, which you are at liberty to use as you please." This Garland was one of them, and the other two have been respectively inserted in the present edition as the Garlands for 1847 (Autumn number) and 1850. I have a proof of " My Glendale Friend, Will Reedy O!" printed on a single 8vo sheet, with press corrections, signed "Stephen Oliver," Chatto's nom de plume, inscribed " written in 1834."] Tune— "The Lea Rig." LET my hat be e'er sae brown, My coat be e'er sae seedy O ; My whole turn-out scarce worth a crown, Like gent's, well-bred, but needy O; Yet still while I have got Enough to pay the shot Of Boniface, both gruff and greedy O, I '11 fill the sparkling cup, And I '11 drink it fairly up, To my Glendale friend, Will Reedy O ! E21 no My Glendale FricntL Away wi' carking care mid gloom, That make life's pathway weedy O! A cheerful glass makes the flowers to bloom And the lightsome hours fly speedy O; Be merry but and wise, Prize the minute as it flies, And Sorrow never will heed ye O :— Then put the goblet round, With a Fisher's Garland crown'd, To my Glendale friend, Will Reedy O! Three summers now ha'e fled sinsyne We met where Glen runs speedy O; Where ye on Cheviot mutton dine, Wi' Cheviot fleeces deed ye O ; Where ye wile, wi' meikle skill, The braw trouties frae the Till, To pleasure baith and feed ye O:— Here's the lads of Cheviot side! Here's of anglers all the pride— My Glendale friend, Will Reedy O! Afrit* WILLIAM ANDREW>GEATTO. Will Reedy O! in "THE LEA RIG." Afteltuoso. ]^ajg^^=g^j3=glfajjjyjl 9 0 ^i J j m . ^^ -5 ■4—*~ hh ^i=h ZM?-, ^^B^^EFCT^H Hhat ^^^5^1^^^^^ J** r Cf)e Jftsfjer's <^arlanti FOR 1836. H» The Anglers Invitation. [Another Garland by W. A. Chatto, which, with the following for 1837, had previously appeared in " Scenes and Recollections ,of Fly-fishing." Two hundred and seventy- eight copies printed for Emerson Charnley, April 14, 1842. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 98, " Select Fables," 1820. Chatto writes: "You are perfectly welcome to print the two Songs from the ' Scenes and Recollections,' (Garlands for 1836 and 1837.) Only one of them was set to music—'The Fisher's Call.' I have a copy ofthe music, but I cannot at present lay my hands upon it." He further adds:—" From the lines which I transcribe on the opposite page, you will perceive that for some time past I have been a stranger to the pleasures ofthe Gentle Art." " Lines written in the blank leaf of a copy of Hofland's ' British Angler's Manual,' presented to a friend, May 1841. ' Coestus artemque repono.' / ' No more the Angler's silent trade I ply; aside my tackle's laid, My hooks are rusted; of my flies Consuming moths have made a prize. At dewy morn, or twilight gray, With rod in hand no more I stray By Teviot, Bowmont, Kail, or Tweed; By Liddel, Yarrow, Jed, or Reed ; By Glen or Coquet, Till or Tyne ; 'Tis three years since I wet a line! For fishing I am " off the hooks;" I 've also shelved my angling books; Old Walton1'j page no more I con; " Young Stephen's occupation's gone!" Young Stephen once—now, well-a-day, He's forty-two, and turning gray!' "Stephen Oliver." The above lines were printed in " Blakey's Angler's Song Book," 1855.] Tune—,f Jessie, the Flower o' Dumblane.' HE wild bull his covert in Chillingham wood Has left, and now browses the daisy-strew'd plain; The May-fly and swallow are skimming the flood, And sweet in the hedge blooms the hawthorn again; p^ hW 116 The Anglers Invitation. The young lambs are skipping on Cheviot's broad mountain, The heather springs green upon Whitsun-bank side; The streams are as clear as the limestone-rock fountain, And sweet is the palm-blossom's scent where they glide. Oh, leave for a while the dull smoke ofthe city; Sons of gain, quit your desks, and your ledgers lay by, Seek health in the fields while each bird sings its ditty, And breathe the pure air underneath the broad sky; Sons of pleasure, come view the sweet primroses springing, Leave the scene where the light figurante whirls round; Come, list to the lark in the blue ether singing, Come, see how the deer in the green forest bound. The glad trout is roaming in every clear stream, And the grilse and the salmon now drink the May flood; Then, anglers, be up with the sun's early beam, Let your flies be in trim and your tackle be good; In Till there's good store of fat trouts to be won,— Let your skill load your creels as you wander along,— And at night, as you tell of the feats you have done, Cheer your talk with a cup of good wine and a song. CHORUS. Then leave for a while the dull smoke ofthe city; Sons of gain, quit your desks, and your ledgers lay by, Seek health in the fields while each bird sings its ditty, And breathe the pure air underneath the broad sky. WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO. May 2, 1836. The Angler's Invitation. 117 " JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE." Andante. _2 ZT^—m m j 0—1 ngi^^pi jPfigHE jj^pfesB^E^^^^ fc±=£*z^=^: P^ p^y^F=ga^^^^^^^ =ft*: -0- -f=* ~P~1 -»- —#- ^»— =ft=2V =P=r=' ^- =F ^ *=*= *q Fb= -y- -k =£= -U- -*-H- -^-r. . # ■ b -. &^£HJ=£±fc 3S^ IS FOR 1837. The Fishers Call. [The third and last Garland by W. A. Chatto published in the original edition. Two hundred and seventy-four copies printed for Emerson Charnley, April 14, 1842, entitled "The Fisher's Call." As previously mentioned, it had already appeared in "Scenes and Recollections." Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 82, " Select Fables," 1820. Chatto writes, (April 6, 1842,) " I have just found the music of 'The Fisher's Call/ which I herewith forward.' We have no record of the air to which this song was set, as in the proof occurs the word "Tune ."] |HE moor-cock is crowing o'er mountain and fell, And the sun drinks the dew from the blue heather- bell; Her song of the morning the lark sings on high, And hark, 'tis the milk-maid a-carolling by. Then up, fishers, up! to the waters away! Where the bright trout is leaping in search of his prey. Oh, what can the joys of the angler excel, As he follows the stream in its course through the dell! Where every wild flower is blooming in pride, And the blackbird sings sweet, with his mate by his side. Then up, fishers, up ! to the waters away! Where the bright trout is leaping in search of his prey. 'Tis pleasant to walk at the first blush of morn, In spring when the blossom is white on the thorn, 122 The Fisher's Call. By the clear mountain stream that rolls sparkling and free, O'er crag and through vale, its glad course to the sea. Then up, fishers, up! to the waters away! Where the bright trout is leaping in search of his prey. In the pools deep and still, where the yellow trouts lie, like the fall of a rose-leaf we '11 throw the light fly; Where the waters flow gently, or rapidly foam, We '11 load well our creels and hie merrily home. Then up, fishers, up! to the waters away! Where the bright trout is leaping in search of his prey. WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO. May 3, C$e Jfte!)er'2 Variant) FOR 1838. 11 Summer Rambles; or, The Fishers Delight. [By William GUI Thompson. Two hundred and seventy-six copies printed for Emerson Charnley, May 6, 1842. I have not been able to trace the woodcut. In the manuscript the fourth stanza is thus originally written:— " 'Tis pleasant o'er the evening glass To hear the blithesome song, And drink the healths of honest hearts We 've known both well and long: The Mitchells and the Roxbys rare> The Garrets * leal and true,' The Doubledays, the Gillans, and Our winsome Chatto too." Thompson writes, " I have removed the names, i with the one which follows."] I made the verse still to harmonise Tune—" There's nae luck about the house.'1 IS pleasant now, when sunlight fills The odour-breathing air, To murm'ring streams and shining brooks In gladness to repair: 'Tis sweet to see the morning smile Of fishers as they hie To search the sparkling element With taper rod and fly. PI 126 Summer Rambles ; or, 'Tis sweet to see the matchless charms That gem around the scene— The waxblings of the air-borne birds On outstretch'd wing serene : To see the " glory of the grass, The splendour of the flower," As Nature puts her freshness on To gild each gladsome hour. And when the evening time draws on, And fill'd 's the well-form'd creel, And thoughts of home upon the heart With gladdening ray will steal: 'Tis pleasant to the angler's soul To raise his shining load, And with his taper rod and reel To take his homeward road. 'Tis pleasant, o'er the evening glass, To hear the blithesome song, And drink the healths of honest hearts We 've known both well and long : Who 've haunted all the sweetest spots Of our delightful stream, With zest as indescribable As youth's delicious dream! And still, as onward rolls the hour, And recollections, kind, Come back, with soften'd hues and forms, And light the thinking mind, The Fisher's Delight. 127 'Tis sweet to quaff a cup to those— The Dead—the Gone-away— With whom we 've spent, in manhood's prime, Oh, many a happy day! Then blessings on the anglers true; Contented may they live; With every grace and every good That bounteous earth can give: Success crown every manly heart, And every gifted hand, As by the silent streams they take Their joy-inspiring stand! WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. N ii\vcastle, April 16, : *=£=£* 128 Summer Rambles, &c. THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.' ^§i sr m ^m^ w=ft ?=¥=*=■. 3—3 -•-—^|-*^'^zrgj^|i-rf-*^—^ ££& %U jfteljet'a <§arlattti FOR 1839. ran The Auld Fishers Invitation to Supper. [By William Gill Thompson ; entitled, in the manuscript, " The Auld Fisher's Invitation to Supper ; or, The memory of other days;" which latter title was expunged. Two hundred and seventy-six copies printed May 9, 1842. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 278, " Select Fables," 1820. For music, see Garland for 1832.] Tune—" Tak your auld cloak about you." OME, friend, and take an angler's treat, And take a social friendly glass, And, blithe and gay, we'll spend the night, As fishers' nights should always pass : We '11 call to mind the early days We 've spent beside the " coaly Tyne," With rod in hand and hope in heart, Though vanish'd now, alas ! lang syne. Come, leave your musty books a while, Your bauld, disjointed, blund'ring rhymes, And let us talk of other scenes, And former bless'd and happier times : Come, let us talk of other years, Ere yet our eyes to weakness turn'd, In the sweet hope at last to find Where Learning's torches brightest burn'd. 132 The Auld Fisher's Let's talk about the sunny vales We 've trod, with hearts all wild, together, By rolling Tynds enlivening sides In glorious Summer's matchless weather: When on each object fair to view We cast our deeply-glistening eyes, Or laugh'd aloud till echo woke Beneath the bright and sounding skies. Come, come, no more of books, no more Of paper, smooth and pure, to-night; We '11 spread a happier sheet to view, More truly welcome to the sight: And on its ample surface fair No tropes obscure shall dimly shine, But sparkling trouts, all deftly caught, From out our own majestic Tyne! And as the strangers, each by each, With zest shall promptly disappear^ We '11 drink a glass to that rich stream Which furnish'd forth our social cheer: We '11 toast each true and happy man Who wanders by its much-loved side, And draws, with skill, its treasures forth, As calmly on, in peace, they glide. And when the cloth's removed and all Its savoury occupants are gone, We '11 sit around the cheerful hearth And talk, anew, of many a one: Invitation to Supper. 133 And, as we warm in heart, and as The radiant fancy round us plays, We '11 fill the glass brim-full and drink— The brilliant Lights of other Days ! william gill thompson. STLE, April 22, I FOR 184O. JF II Iss^ ^£^9^ &S!MM^& ^Siii^M A Day by the Side of the Fast- Flowing Tyne. [William Gill Thompson's last Garland. He writes, (May 2, 1842,) " I have now done my best for the Garlands, and I have sent you up the others for preservation." Two hundred and seventy-six copies were printed March 14, 1842, for Emerson Charnley. Woodcut on title as used at p. 94, " Select Fables," 1820. It would appear from an advertisement (already mentioned) that a limited number of the series was issued at this time, terminating with the Garland for 1840. "The Garlands for 1833 to 1840 are just printed for the first time."] Tune—" Derry down." 10ME, my lads, from your pillows spring, open your eyes, And look out the best of your rods and your flies : Cast care far behind you—let sorrow go pine— For we swear we '11 be off to the Banks of the Tyne. But, first, let the board be spread, ample and wide, For there's no fun in fasting, whatever betide : Let the eggs come in clusters, the coffee in streams, And the ham, tongue, and fowl, fade away like your dreams. Now a " caulker," the finest, of rich mountain dew, To add zest to our spirits and strength to our view; Then away ! like true sons of the angle we'll shine, With our rods, creels, and lines, on the Banks of the Tyr 138 A Day by the Side of the Where Newburn lies bright, in the rich morning time, With its age-sprinkled turret, all calm and sublime, We 11 start like keen fishermen, up to the chase, Determined no fugitive beats us the race. Then on will we ramble to Wylam's deep holes, Where the large heavy trout lie together in shoals, And we '11 hook them, and creel them, and make the glades ring, As with hearts, like our rods, all elastic, we '11 sing. Ha ! here's Ovingham, famed, where the Great Bewick lies, Once so dext'rous at handling the bonny brown flies, As he roved, in his youth, by the side of the streams Which he afterwards hallow'd in glory's bright beams ! May his mem'ry be bless'd where he lies by the side Of his own rapid river, his glory and pride; Few graced it as he did throughout his bright day, And—so—fitting it is he should live in our lay. We '11 visit his streamlets, decorous in mood To think that we stand where that Giant One stood; But, how sacred soever the streamlet may be, We '11 still hook " the natives " with hearts full of glee. Then By well's deep pools of some " thumpers " we '11 drain, While every new cast gives new mirth to the strain, And the salmon lie splendid and bright to the eye, And they take their last look of the stream and the sky. Fast-Flowing Tyne. 139 Now, our creels being well fill'd, we will all form a truce, For a true fisher never takes aught but for use ; And we '11 leave the bright denizens, happy and gay, Till we pay our next visit another grand day. And we '11 off to the " Matchem," where Trotter " hangs out,' A rare hand and skilful at cooking a trout; And with salmon, ham-collops, and eggs, too, galore, We '11 eat, drink, and sing, as we 've oft done before. Then, when midnight draws nigh and the dial of fun Shews how truly and blithe our gay course we have run, We '11 stand, hand in hand, with our glasses at bay, And we 'H drink—" To our next merry meeting, hurrah !' WILLIAM GILL THOMPSON. Newcastle, May j 140 A Day by the Side, &c. il* 'DERRY DOWN." Gracefully. M J=¥=i ^Sz -*tH £*= ^^T^^P ^h-fM^^A^=p^^^^ H |H3=£^^Sp Clje tfteW* #atlanti FOR 1841. The Auld Fishers Last Wish. [Again Doubleday and Roxby come to the rescue, and again are the Garlands continued. The manuscript is Roxby's, but the lyric is from Doubleday's pen. No record of the number of copies printed. Woodcut on 'title as altered from vignette at p. 164, " Select Fables," 1820 ; published in " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852. The block is in Bonn's possession, introduced in " Walton's Angler," 1856, p. 67, and in Holland's "Angler's Manual," 1848, p. xxi. as Bewick's.] Tune—" My Love is newly listed." HE morn is gray, and green the brae; the wind is frae the wast; Before the gale the snaw-white clouds are drivin' light and fast; The airly sun is glintin' forth, owre hill, an' dell, an' plain; And Coquet's streams are glitt'rin' as they rin frae muir to main. At Dews-hill Wood the mavis sings beside her birken nest; At Haly-stane the laverock springs upon his breezy quest, Wi' eydent e'e, aboon the craigs, the glead is high in air, Beneath brent Brinkburn's shadow'd cliff the fox lies in his lair. There's joy at merry Thristley-haugh, the new-mawn hay to win; The busy bees at Todstead-shaw are bringing hinny in; * The trouts they loup in ilka stream, the birds on ilka tree ; Auld Coquetside is Coquet still,—but there's nae place for me. My Sun is set, my eyne are wet; cauld Poortith now is mine; Nae mair I '11 range by Coquet side, and thraw the gleesome line; ■H 144 The Auld Fisher's Last Wish. Nae mair I '11 see her bonnie streams in spring-bright raiment drest, Save in the dream that stirs the heart, when the weary e'e 's at rest. Oh ! were my limbs as ance they were, to jink across the green; And were my heart as light again as sometime it has been; And could my fortunes blink again, as erst when youth was sweet, Then Coquet—let what will betide—fu' soon we twa should meet. Or had I but the Cushat's wing, where'er I list to flee, And wi' a wish, might wend my way owre hill, an' dale, an' lea; 'Tis there I 'd fauld that weary wing ; there gaze my latest gaze; Content to see thee ance again,—then sleep beside thy Braes! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, May i, 1841. The Auld Fisher's Last Wish. 145 'MY LOVE IS NEWLY LISTED." (NORTHUMBRIAN AIR.) Affettuoso. *»• Tit ^J^^^^^-^j^^^ ^F=¥£ :M^f* s= C|)e Atelier's <&arlatrti FOR 1842. Auld and Young. [By Thomas Doubleday. Two hundred and fifty copies printed for Emerson Charnley, March 9, 1842, on Smith & Allnut's imitation paper, and twelve on genuine reprint paper. I have not been able to trace the woodcut. Published in " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852. Chatto writes to Garret (March 1842):—" I thank you for the Fisher's Garland for 1842, enclosed in your letter. If the writer be Robert Roxby, and he be yet in the land of the living,—at any rate R. R. is post-dated ist May 1842, (alluding to this Garland, which was published March 9, and signed R. R., though dated May 1,)—I wish you would make my acknowledgments to him of the great pleasure which I have derived from his ' Evergreen Garlands,' as well as from his ' Reedwater Minstrel.' " I regret that I have not the pleasure of knowing Mr Roxby personally, but if he be still in the land of the living, I hope to have J and pray that he may live in vigorous age, frosty but kindly, till I shall have an opportunity of accompanying him to the banks of dear Coquet.—Truly yours, "Wm. A. Chatto."] Tune—" Fie! gar rub her owre wi' si T 's Mayday this; the wale o' days; The westlin' wind blaws saft an' free, Far i' th' sky, their notes o' joy The Laverock-quire are liltin' hie. Hear them ye may, ye canna see! The dew-drap sparkles on the thorn; And nature says to ear and e'e, " This is"—my boy,—" a simmer's morn." Round Shillhope-Law, young Coquet's stream- A half-grown Syke—is wimplin' wild: She bids " guid morn" to Barra Burn, Like child forgath'rin' in wi' child. 150 Auld and Young. 'Mang Rowhope Craigs the winds, beguiled, An angry speat send down the vale, And ower the Linn, wi' bickerin' din, She's foamin' like the heady ale! 'Neath Harbottle's auld castle wa', Amang the cliffs she boils amain ; Frae rifted rock to woody shaw; Frae stalwart craig to auld gray stane. Down, speedin' hameward, she is gane Past lanely Hepph's ruin'd peel; And wha begins aboon the whins, At Flotterton may load his creel. I canna climb the brent hill-side, Where stripling Coquet first is seen; Where 'neath the Bell-rigs' shadow wide, The silly sheep lie down at e'en; I canna climb the knowes, sae green, Where round " the bend " the river steals, Or where she wars, amang the scaurs, Her weary way to rough Linn-shiels. Still we can toddle, fit by fit, To Brinkburn where the breeze hits fine ; The auld man's nae sae crazy yet, But he can thraw a winsome line. 'Gin there we fail, we'se no repine; When smelts are eydent, trouts are shy; And i' th' slack, by the dam-back, We 'se maybe raise a grilse forbye I Auld and Young. I5i It's ill the mountain side to speil, When ance the knees begin to fail; When ance the snaws o' age we feel, It's ill to thole the mountain gale, " Slaw wark maks sicker" 's an auld tale! Where'er they loup we '11 tak our stand; An' thou shall say, Lad, mony a day, " It's weel to ken—the Maister's Hand." THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle* May i, 1842. 152 Auld and Young. 'FIE! GAR RUB HER OWRE WI' STRAE." P^m^h^rx^^mm fi^t1+&fc^^E8&&3 fntun\M&3^mm P?f^&33$0E£^5^ FOR 1842. (Autumn I2umfiet-) The Angler s Adieu for the Season. [By Thomas Doubleday; corrected (?) by Robert Roxby. No record of the number of copies printed. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette at p. 168, " Select Fables," 1820; used in its present state at p. 168, Bohn's edition of " Select Fables." Compare the cuts. Though the idea conveyed in the four concluding lines is the same as that embodied in " The Marriage of the Coquet and Alwine," we must at least exempt the author of this Garland from the charge of plagiarism. Published in " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—"The bonnie gray-eyed morn." ADIEU to thee, dear Coquet-side! thou now art in thy prime; Rejoicing in thy music and the echoes of thy hills! Rejoice whilst yet thou canst rejoice! for soon shall come the time When frosts shall sit upon thy crags and dry up all thy rills; When winds shall blaw and storms shall fa' amang thy sources wild, And drift on drift, all grimly heap'd, deform thy flowery plain, Scarce struggling, slaw, beneath the snaw, thy waters now so mild, And this maun be, dear Coquet-side, or ere I come again! Adieu to thee, Blindburn, sae lone! upon thy braes sae green, Thy sheep now bask the live-long day, aneath the brent hillside; And pleasant is the e'enin' hour, and pleasant is the scene, To watch the Herd wend ower the sward at gloamin' eventide. 156 The Angler's Adieu for the Season. He stoops to drink upon thy brink; and as his shadow moves, The scary trout glides swiftly out, to seek for shelter fain; But winds shall sweep, an' rains swell deep, the waters that he loves; And this maun be, dear Coquet-side, or ere we meet again! Adieu to thee, Linshiels sae rough! amang thy beetlin' scaurs, Aneath the beams the laughin' streams may sparkle an' may play; Now bright in sun, now dark in shade, the water, as it wars, Through rifted craig an' flood-worn cliff, its journey and its way. As owre each linn, wi' gleesome din, the streams come gurglin' gay, There let the troller wave his gad an' strike " the mennim I fain, For soon the floods o' winter wild shall roar frae bank to brae; And this maun be, dear Coquet-side, or ere I come again! Adieu to thee, auld Hepple Tower! around thee, far an' wide, The heather's purple on the muir, the bonnie whin's in bloom; And thus it was by Coquet stream, beneath dark Simonside, When mony a warrior, mould'rin' now, first found his Roman tomb. Plow sweetly down, flow proudly down, thy wild expanded dale, And twine an' glint aneath the sun, e'en like a siller chain; For when December's tempests come, it's a' of sma' avail; And this maun be, dear Coquet-side, or ere we meet again! The Angler's Adieu for the Season. 157 Adieu! adieu! sweet Weldon brig! the harvest on thy hill Is waiting for the sickle's sweep, in a' its liveried gold; And down by bonnie Hedley-wood, where creep the waters still, The trout has made, aneath the shade, deep, deep, his simmer hold. There, when the breeze just waves the trees, cast far an' fine "the flee," And let it drap as saftly as can drap the simmer rain; For let the showers but shew their powers, all fruitless will it be ; And this maun be, dear Coquet-side,. or ere I come again! Adieu to thee, gay Felton Park ! between thy yellow braes, Lang may thy waters keep their course in stream an' spread- in' pool. Adieu to woody Acklington ! where aft the shadesman gaes His silent sport to follow still beneath the boughs sae cool. And last, adieu! grim Warkworth Tower! where Coquet, like a bride, Beside her frowning guardian, to her Ocean Lord is ta'en! Adieu, in all thy glorious garbs! adieu, sweet Coquet-side ! And be thou sure to shine as bright when next we meet again! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, September i, 1842. 158 The Angler's Adieu for the Season. 'THE BONNIE GRAY-EYED MORN.* $ »t l-^^pi^fe^^^ ^E^^f & &±£&m ■3-- F^P r-^r J* J 1—F-H F P * d-j-H--fr j- P 1 —T-f—^p i 1 P'»—» C$e jftsfjet'g <£arlattiJ FOR 1843. I Up the Wreigh | [The manuscript is Roxby's, signed R. R., Newcastle, March 31, 1843, though the song is by Doubleday. Two hundred and fifty copies printed, and twelve on old paper, for Emerson Charnley. Woodcut on title as altered from vignette, at p. 198, " Select Fables," 1820. Published in "Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852. The tune called "John, come kiss me now," (to which this Garland is set,) is of great antiquity; but the words to which it was originally sung, with the exception of the chorus, seem to be lost, (though a version is printed in Dalyell's " Scottish Poems of the Sixteenth Century," Edinburgh 1801, p. 147.) At the Reformation an endeavour was made by the more zealous of the clergy to give a spiritual meaning to the songs in popular use, and thus to convert profane or licentious rhymes into holy hymns. Among the songs so metamorphosed was John, come kiss me now;" and we quote a verse of it in its spiritualised garb, to shew the daring and unscrupulous lengths to which the early Reformers could go in combining familiar images with sacred. The effect is startling:— " Johne, cum kiss me now, Johne, cum kiss me now ; Johne, cum kiss me by and by, And make no more adow. " The Lord thy God I am, That Johne dois thee call; Johne represents man By grace celestiall," &c.—Whitelaw's Scottish Songs. The following fragment appears in Herd's collection:— " John, come kiss me now, now, now, O John, come kiss me now ; John, come kiss me by and by, And make nae mair ado. " Some will court and compliment, And make a great ado ; Some will make of their goodman, And sae will I of you. John, come kiss, &c.' J Tune—" John, come kiss me." ESTREEN, the clouds hung few an' mild, An' saft as maidens when they weep; Or gently lay on Simonside, Like bairns that cry themselves to sleep; 162 1 Up the Wreigh I! But, now, out owre the mountain tap, They 're sweepin' wi' an' angry sky; The veerin' blast blaws dead south-wast, —We 'se cheat them a', an' up the Wreigh ! There's some awa' to Sharperton; Frae Alwinton they 're owre the knowe : Wi' " Mennim" some's to do the deed; An' some wi' " Heckles" like a towe. They dinna ken the mist that hings, Black—black—on Rowhope-head sae hie ; Where now it's toom, they '11 seun a' soom— —We 'se cheat them a', an' up the Wreigh i There's braw, lang Trouts aboon Linn-shiels, Amang the scaurs they '11 haud their screen; Deil scale the byke frae Redlees-syke, Wi' wairsh moss-water black an' lean! At Harehaughturn and Keengie-burn, They '11 smell the weather i' the sky; On Carter-brow, it's sleetin' now— —We 'se cheat them a', an' up the Wreigh ! It's unco weel to fill the creel, When wun's blaw saft, and fish loup fast; But when the morn comes dank and dern, It tak's anither kind o' cast! When gusty swirls mak' cauldrife curls, An' sweep the peuls, wi' sudden skreigh, 'Mang wund an' rain, it's no that plain,— —We 'se cheat them a', an' up the Wreigh ! Up the Wreigh! 163 It's gaily to the Norrid yet;— See Cheviot's ridges, blue in air; Aboon his pow, the gales may row, But shem a cloud daur venture there. Sae ye 'se put on your sawmon-roe, Whiles I a gowd-tail'd branlin' try; She's comin' down, a bonnie brown,— —We 'se cheat them a', an' up the At Caistron-deeps, they 're threshin' on, An' down by Flotterton's new Ha'; , I'se wad a pund, when night comes round, That, creel for creel, we bang them a'! It's spittin' now at Dewshill-wood; At Hepple-peel it's far frae dry; There I nane but feuls wou'd fish the peuls,— —We 'se cheat them a', an' up the Wreigh ! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, March 31, 1843. SP 164 " Up the Wreigh I "JOHN, COME KISS ME." $ ip3£ 33^ ■ ■ ~t~r~tfF=h-TfM' •- ^ -ta- I— - »JI » ,.P~i , . I I ffl—ff^'Tg'! ,-yj Izaztfzfti ^^^ff^^'^^fl^^E p f_ghg t=t I—f—* =pz=p==p z^-WTT ^P^ff+P=R T t t =P=F & i p=£ f ■ i m—s—m~* ?f; tjwf-nti Cfje tfteW* ^arlanti FOR 1844. sm B^f^K j^^^^T'^P^B^ lis The Fishers Courtship. [By Thomas Doubleday, though the manuscript is Roxby's, and signed " R. R." No record of the number of copies. Printed for William Garret. Woodcut on title, a vile copy from the vignette, by Bewick, at p. 52, vol. ii., " British Birds," 1805, the same subject that was copied by Nicholson for the Garland of 1826. Published in " The Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852.] Tune—"The Women are a' gane wud.' OUT, Lassie! ye 're dune wi' the kye, Sae canna ye wander wi' me, The Craft o' the Fisher to try, The cast o' his Tackle to see 1 For ilk fish i; the Creel that may glint, Gin a kiss he may aiblins require, The Riddle we'll read—or deil's in't, O' wha ;11 be the foremost to tire, Hout, Lassie! &>c. The streams are a' purlin' in joy; The Lav'rocks are up i' the lift; The Herd he gaes whistlin' by, Forgettin' the storm an' the drift. Sae come, an' ye '11 soon understand How we tice baith the blate an' the slee, Wi' a wily bit waft o' the hand, An' a glegsome bit glance o' the e'e ! Hout, Lassie! &>c. 168 The Fisher's Courtship. Oh! come—an' ye 'se see wi' what airt The troutie we '11 wile frae the pool, An' gar him for ever to pairt Frae his hauld, sae secure an' sae cool. Just as some—that ye ken o'— their breath Can hardly get leave for to draw, An' dread that they 've come by their death, Ere they kent thirsells stricken ava'! Hout, Lassie! drv. Oh! come—We 'se gae up by the Trows, Where the Burnie rins wimplin' 2xi dear ; Where the breckan an' wild heather grows, An' the wild-rose is sweet on the briec Where amang the gray Craigs, i' the beam, The flowers spring in fragrance an' pride, In token that Luve is nae dream— If ye seek him by sweet Coquet-side. Hout, Lassie! &c. ■ Or to Usway let's gae—an' we 11 draw The sawmon frae out o' his lair, Wi' this slender wee hazel, sae sraa', And this hnklet o^ bonnie brown hair. Sae a heart may be Strang in its might, Yet bend—a sair penance to dree— To a taper bit finger sae white, Or the glance o' a hazel-bright e'e! Hout, Lassie! cVv. The Fisher's Courtship. 169 Oh ! come : an' we'se rove by the streams Till the Sun's sunken far i' the West; An', if weary we get wi' his beams, In the shade o' the Valley we '11 rest. There the true " Fisher's knot" ye shall see ; The secret shall cost but a kiss; And when tied,—'gin ye canna win free,— We maun e'en let it bide as it is. H&utj Lassie! && THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, April 10, 1844. 170 The Fishers Courtship. 1 "THE WOMEN ARE A' GANE WUD." Con Expressione. =Sr 9Tlt-TTjrm-J-f-^M-^H=^E ffiH M ' -i I i—f-r>- r-fr »-] J"l 1 I .gi J J h-frTJ 7f-^ fr r * J -j 4 p J J J p tt=«= • • =F==:=:gc r \ ' * j :==i • 1 w '—' ^ «—0 n Cl)e &utti ftsfyrtsi ftrtritattoti TO HIS FRIEND. m The Auld Fishers Invitation TO HIS FRIEND IN NEWCASTLE TO GANG Wi' HIM TO NORTH TYNE TO TAKE ANITHER THRAW. [The manui day's pen. No r Woodcut on title, nette, p. 50, vol. Songs," 185a.] pt is Roxby*s, though fliis and the Following Garland are from Double- cord of the number of copies. Printed for William Garret, 1844. copied in reverse from that by Luke Clennel, introduced as a vig- i., "Bewick's Birds/ 1805. Published in "Coquet-dale Fishing E 'VE fish'd the Coquet's far-famed streams From Blindburn to the Sea, And sung their praise, wi' mony Lays, In strains of minstrelsy. Nae mair we '11 bide at Coquet-side, Another stream we '11 try; And in North Tyne we '11 cast vm line, And thin the xmny fry. We '11 bid farewell to Coquet-dale, Her hills and howes sae green; To Weldon Inn and the wine-bin, Where merry days we 've seen. 174 The Auld Fisher's Invitation Now the Fa'-stane shall be our hame, Where heathy heights we '11 view, And take our rest near the moor-hen's nest, And quaff the mountain dew. The wintry winds hae ceased to rave Owre Render's dreary fell, The curlews left the briny wave, And sought the heather bell. And the pee-wits and plovers a', Allured by spring, once more, To their mossy moors an' favourite flowers, Forsake the sounding shore. The breckan 's waving on the braes— The haughs wi' daisies fine, And the blithesome birds resume their lays On the banks o' sweet North Tyne. The broom shines bright on Mounsey's knowe, The whin at Thorneyburn, And the Ousel's trill, frae Mantle-hill, Proclaims the spring's return. The wild-rose blooms at Hesleyside, The primrose at Lea Ha', Auld North Tyne's buskit like a bride, Wi' her spring claes sae braw. to his Friend in Newcastle. 175 From winsome Wark to Simonburn, The trouty streams are fine, And the Anglers hie to throw the fly; Wha wadna fish the Tyne % Old Chipchase castle proudly stands Towerin' aboon them a', And the lone dove wails i' the grove Down at the Chesters' Ha'. The busy bees are on the wing,—■ Escaped frae winter's snaw, And merrily the songsters sing Frae Chollerford to Wa\ The dew-drops sparkle on the thorn, The wind blaws frae the west, Wi' splendour breaks the April morn, In gold and purple drest. The welcome sight gives me delight, And I feel young again; The sun's bright beams glint on the streams, And the trouts they rise amain. I '11 don my creel and grip my gad, Though seventy and twice three ; Sae seek yer tackle out, my Lad, And thraw anither flee. f 176 The Auld Fisher's Invitation, &c. And frae the North Tyne's savage source, Where prowling foxes stray, We '11 range the river's winding course To South Tyne's sunny brae. And then I '11 wind my tackle up,- The fisher's craft resign, And bid fareweel to rod an' reel, And hackle, heuk, and line. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, April 30, Cf)* $ritifytt'& #atlanU FOR 1845. The Morning Airly. [By Thomas Doubleday. Printed for William Garret No record of the number of copies. Published in "Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852. This Garland terminated the original series ofthe "Newcastle Fishers' Garlands."] Tune—"Corn rigs are bonnie." T 's late, my Lad, to tak' the Gad; All nature's now in motion ; The floods o' May hae swept away The Sawmon's fry to Ocean; In Dewshill, lang, the Throstle's sang He's been rehearsin' cheerly ; Our only line's " far aff an' fine," And tak' the mornin' airly! Up through the glens, amang the staens, The burns wi' heat seem dryin'; Slaw, tired and still, by Little Mill, Wi' worm the shadesman 's hiein'; Ahint the bush that hauds the thrush, He now can shelter rarely; Our only line's " far aff an' fine," And tak' the mornin' airly ! At Alwinton, the washin 's on, And loud the Lads are singin'; To see the sheep spang, soom, and dreep, The Dale wi' laughter 's ringin'; i8o The Morning Airly. Het, tired, an' dry, the thirsty kye The fords are taking fairly; Our only line's " far aff an' fine," And tak' the mornin' airly! Yet, through the trees, there's still a breeze; The pool the gale is curling; Beneath the beam, the glitterin' stream Is owre the pebbles purling; We 're no' the sort to lose our sport, Because the stream rins clearly; But thraw the line | far aff an' fine," An' tak the mornin' airly! The gleg-e'ed trout we '11 pick him 'out, Amang the staens fu' deftly; Our flies shall fa', the verra snaw Can come nae down sae saftly; We '11 'tice them here, we '11 'tice them there, What though they loup but sparely, Wi' a cast o' line " far aff an' fine," All in the mornin' airly! When floods come down, a callant loon May catch them wi' a tether, And sawmon roe, be a' " the go " For gowks in rainy weather, But gi'e to me the light midge flee, When streams are rinnin' clearly, And a cast o' line " far aff an' fine," All in the mornin' airly! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. Newcastle, July i, 1845. The Morning Airly. 181 'CORN RIGS ARE BONNIE." ^=f^=^^^^^mi m pfc^^s^g^^ 3$$ I -M U—fS-i-Ea B^gEggg P^k l-y—I— «ri—i- zizfci: =## ^^£ ^ li ^F1 -44-*= *fc g^^R^Sl 1 FOR 1846. m The Auld Fishers Advice. [By Thomas Doubleday. Published in the " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852, from which I quote—" The following stanzas were never printed. They were thrown off one day in the spring of 1846, and sent to my old friend (Roxby) for criticism and correction During his last illness I saw a fair copy of the song in his own handwriting, together with my own copy, upon his table; but I have not been able to recover either. The song now given is therefore necessarily printed (with one or two alterations) 'from my own rough draught, without the benefit of my friend's corrections."] m Tune—" Had I the wyte ? E ken the stream, it drives amain, Now in the sunbeam sparklin', Now rushing fast, 'mid mony a stane, Beneath the allers darklin': Now whirlin' in the pool at last, Wi' mony a circlin' eddy; Now still, where esh and plane-tree cast Their shadows cool an' steady. The wind was scant, the sun was bright, Nae cloud to cast a shadow; The pebbles red shew'd back the light Like flowerets in a meadow. The wind was scant, the cast was fine, The flee fell saft an' slyly; A curl—and checks at once the line — 'Tis he— but he comes shyly! 186 The Auld Fisher's Advice. In vain the stream rins laughin' on, In vain the breeze comes sighin', Till frae the branches, one by one, The shrivell'd leaves are flyin'. In vain against yon pebbly brae, The gurglin' water 's foamin'; Ye toil in vain, he '11 tak' his way— We'se try him in the gloamin'. 'Twill no be lang or ere the sun Shall set behind the Cheviot, And thraw his latter rays upon Clear Jed an' woody Teviot. 'Twill no be lang ere Simonside Stands dim an' dark in shadow, An' mists frae Coquet's bosom glide Owre mony a haugh an' meadow. Then ye 'se put on your best moth flee, When e'enin's dews are fallin', And, frae his screen in bush or tree, The mellow throstle's callin'; An' I 'se put on my mennim gear, When moonlight's just beginnin', An' to the streams, frae far and near, The hungry trouts are rinnin'. An' first we 'se try a cast aboon, Just where the stream gaes birlin', And sets the pool, aneath the moon, In mony a wrinkle swirlin'. The Auld Fishers Advice. 187 Then, gin ye fail, I 'se tak' a cast, E'en where the stream is foamin'; The mennim 5s sure his doom at last,- We 'se hae him in the gloamin'! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. 188 The Auld Fishers Advice. 'HAD I THE WYTEr Moderato. H?-g / £ r-£ *—* .• ,fj:.lL ■ ■J? | pTjp^ ^ 1 " f* p.»^ "^"* • p 1 gjj "f-"i—• r * •—iS ■ -10)—[-^i ^ •—(i-j—j • • j—«£—!— ~^«^— ! rptg*!^>if>* M *^^ ^ la-id *^i ^»e/irf rrHVaEt^n ■* p ra ar^rgi *%%* Jftsfjer's <&arlatttj FOR 1847. The Anglers Invitation. [A hitherto unpublished Garland, found among the manuscripts, signed R. G., and dated December 12, 1823, probably the production of Robert Gillan, as his name is appended to a circular of the Newcastle Waltonian Club in April 1824. Mr White writes :—" I suspect the Robert Gillan mentioned here was a Scotsman, and classical assistant to James Charlton, of the Anchorage School at Gateshead. He became a clergyman, and was pastor to a small Presbyterian chapel at Stamfordham; subsequently he went to Glasgow, and had D.D. attached to his name. I think he succeeded Dr Chalmers in charge of a congregation there."] Tune—" The Birks of Aberfeldy." Chorus. \P OR TING laddies, let's awa', let's awa', let's awa', Wi' rods, and lines, and heuks, an' a', To the banks o' rolling Tyne O! Now gray the morn is blinkin' out, The siller dare and speckelt trout Skim lightly here and there about, ' All in the rolling Tyne O! Sporting laddies, &*c. The ground is moist wi' April showers, The stream a porter current pours, Oh! let's improve these favour'd hours All in the rolling Tyne O! Sporting laddies, &>c. 192 The Angler's Invitation. The bait is set, the wily flee Quick draws the fish's greedy e'e, Tug, tug, puir troutie—ye maun dee, All in the rolling Tyne O ! Sporting laddies, pull awct, pull awa', pull awa', And fill our creels wi' great an' sma', On the banks 0' rolling Tyne O! But now we maun gie up the play, For night steals owre the joyous day, Wi' lightsome load we march away, To Newburn on the Tyne O! Sporting laddies, march awa', march awa', march awa', We '11 share like fishers, ane an' a', On the banks d rolling Tyne 0/ But e'er we part, let's pledge the wine, Wi' Bacchus wreaths our brows entwine, And may our gifts on Friendship's shrine Be honesty an' truth O ! Sporting laddies, drain the bowl, drain the bowl, drain the bowl, To every lee-light-hearted soul, Wha fishes in the Tyne O! § The Angler's Invitation. 193 'THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY." Vivace. y^TTT^ -is . • I p^ ^^ fgl EE E^S ^^g^d^^^^B g^pg^sfep^^ Z>.C cdFine. CJ)e jft^er^ #arlatft FOR 1847. (autumn JSumfcer*) The Anglers Even-Song. [This is one of the songs by William Andrew Chatto, sent to Garret for publication in the series; and although it was printed in "The Angler's Souvenir" in 1834, the author has been already so thoroughly identified with the "Garlands" that I have no hesitation in introducing it as an " Autumn number" for 1847, the precedent having been established in 1842.] |OBER eve is approaching, the sun is now set, Though his beams on the hill-top are lingering yet; The west wind is still, and more clearly is heard In meadow and forest the note of each bird : The crows to their roost are now winging their way; It is time to give over my fishing to-day. I arose in the mom, ere the sun could prevail To disperse the gray mist that hung low in the vale. To the linn I went straight, distant ten miles or more, Where the stream rushes down with a bound and a roar; In the black pool below I had scarce thrown my line, Ere a trout seized my fly, and directly was mine. How they rose, and I hook'd them, 'twere needless to tell. I fish'd down the stream to the lone cradle-well, Where I sate myself down on a stone that was nigh, For the sun now was bright, and the trouts getting shy; A flask of good whisky I 'd fail'd not to bring, And I chasten'd its strength with a dash from the spring. 198 The Angler's Even-Song. Refresh'd then I rose and ascended the hill, • To gaze on the landscape so lonely and still; Where I met an old shepherd, and near him lay down, At the back of a cairn, where the heather was brown; And we talk'd of old times, and he sang an old strain, Till 'twas time to be gone to my fishing again. Though my creel be so large, to the lid closely fill'd, It will not hold the trouts which since morning I 've kilPd; I must string on a withy three dozen or more— I ne'er in a day caught so many before,— But though heavy my creel, yet my heart is so light That I '11 sing a blithe song of my fishing to-night. WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO. Cf)e ^teller's <£>atlanti FOR 1848. Visit to Redesdale. [A hitherto unpublished Garland, found among the manuscripts signed R. W. From the pen of Robert White, the historian of "Otterburn," and author of the criticisms on the " Garlands," in the " Coquet-dale Fishing Songs," 1852. I have pleasure in adding that the authorship has been recently confirmed.] Tune—" Down the burn, Davie.' HE sun is up, a sweeter morn Ne'er dawn'd on Fisher's e'e; How bright appears the springing corn, The leaf's on ilka tree. The mists are~ gane, the day seems fair; There's joy by hill an' shore; And Reed is gliding onward there— The stream we prized of yore. We '11 up by lanely Saughenside, And then our sport begin, Where, sweeping o'er the channel wide, The bickering waters rin. On ilka pool the ripple's fine; We 've fish'd them a' before, And, ance again, wi' heuk an' line, We '11 scan them as of yore. m 202 Visit to Redesdale. At Birdhopehaugh, and sweet Todlaw, The finny spankers lie, Near jutting craig, or spreading shaw, Secure frae sun an' sky; But we can lightly thraw a flee Each distant eddy o'er, And switch them out by stane an' tree, As we ha'e done of yore. 'Neath Lisha brig, fu' pure an' soft, O'er holm and upland brown, Which we in youth ha'e traversed oft, The western wind comes down; Sweet is its breath, but sweeter still, Upon the gurry shore, Wi' pliant rod our creels to fill, As oft we did of yore. While on we stray, an' winding turn Round meadows waving green, We '11 come to bonnie Otterburn— Of a' the dale the queen. Beyond her battlefield of fame, Renown'd in British lore, She has on us a deeper claim— She was our home of yore. There wi' our host,* wha like his sire Is worthy, kind,tan' free, The flowing bowl shall mirth inspire, And tales o' fun an' glee. * Robert Anderson. Visit to Redesdale. 20- We 11 pledge, what ilka honest heart Will echo frae its core:— " Reedwater, aye!"—"The fisher's art!"— " The friends we loved of yore." ROBERT WHITE. 204 Visit to Redesdale. "DOWN THE BURN, DAVIE.' Moderato. SjaEl^bgigP^ j] jJ—i j^=fgfe -• \-t ^==^ =^g Igfc: y~i ^^- yi^ir ftf^R^%^^ E@^ ^IH^ ^3S2E :?::1!s: 3^ Cfje tfteW* ^atlanU FOR 1849. r The Piscatorians Rant. [The following " Rant," written probably as a " Garland " for any given year, I find among the manuscripts* The original is in Thomas Doubleday's writing, signed " D.," and is no doubt his composition. Hitherto unpublished, I have placed it as the " Garland" for 1849.] Tune—" There's three guid fellows." Time—One o'clock in the morning. HERE's three guid Fellows ha'e met, An' they are gaun to the war, An' they ha'e such gear as yet Was never seen near or far: For they ha'e three conjuring caps Fu' o' lear that downa be named, An' they flourish about steel traps Hung at hair that never was kamed ! full chorus {con strepito, decanters and glasses.) O Merlin the Wizard was skilld, An! Faustus a Doctor rare! But whilk 0' the twa ever kill'd A sawmon wi' single hair I An' ilk has a magical Rod, It's only to wave it to slaughter; Wi' Strang brass an' aim 'tis shod, An' it always points to the water; i m 208 The Piscatorian's Rant The mair fkatit yields, the mair glorious— But, what causes maist surprise, It's sure to come aff victorious, If only its enemies rise! 0 Merlin, &c Dan Samson was stalwart an' Strang, Unless haly history cozens ; O' armies he made an auld sang, An' kill'd the Philistines by dozens; His virtue it lay in the hair, Sae he sloken'd his valorous thirst; But it aiblins wad puzzled him mszrr, If he 'd had to ha'e caught them fek O Merlin, &c, Thae three guid Fallows ha'e met To haud the trouties a tuil; What reck gin the Lads be wet, As lang as their creels are full % They hae slaughter'd them airly an' late, They hae slaughter'd them sair to see ; An' a' the pains they are at, It is but the " bite o' a flee." FULL CHORUS. O Merlin the Wizard was skilVd, Art Faustus a Doctor rare ! But whilk 0' the twa ever kill'd- A sawmon wi' single hair ? D. {Quoth THOMAS DOUBLEDAY.) 1864. e< \ "THERE'S THREE GUID FELLOWS." (Oswald's Set.) Brisk. ]—,, f"p p $ ■t- tr m-t-m -?~t-*-m - -i ' I f-^^-fasL I I F~P— -¥—d » ' JL dr EEE -P—z—P— *3=t m&^m =b==F 5EP -4 V- M gfcrpfr-^ •#- T^-*- ^s: ^Big^E =P"ra t^^i^riXt^te^s I Cl)e xfutyer'* ^arlanti FOR 1850. MP L BggBK^ EH^P^^^^|^»i ■fc ^^s Mm| Ih3B ro^M^j Kjfi ly| The Angler's Reveille. [By William Andrew Chatto. Appeared originally-in the "Angler's Souvenir and here introduced, for reasons previously stated, as the " Garland for 1850."] LD Winter is gone, and young Spring now comes tripping; Sweet flowers are springing wherever she treads ; While the bee, hovering o'er them, keeps humming and sipping, And birds sing her welcome in woodlands and meads. The snow-wreath no more on the hill-side is lying; The leaf-buds are bursting, bright green, on each tree ; Ho, anglers, arouse ye! the streams are worth trying; Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me! Haste away! haste away! for the south wind is blowing, And rippling so gently the face of the stream, Which neither too full, nor too fine, yet is flowing, Now clouded, now bright with a sunshiny gleam. At the foot of the fall, where the bright trouts are leaping, In the stream, where the current is rapid and strong, Or just by the bank, where the skeggers seem sleeping, There throw your fly light, and you cannot throw wrong. 214 The Anglers Reveille. There's a joy in the chase, over hedge and ditch flying; 'Tis pleasant to bring down the grouse on the fell ; The partridge to bag, through the low stubble trying; The pheasant to shoot as he flies through the dell. But what are such joys to the pleasures of straying By the side of a stream, a long line throwing free, The salmon and trout with a neat fly betraying ? Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me I To awaken the milk-maid, the cock is yet crowing,— She was out late last night with young Hodge at the fair,— To be milk'd yet the cows in the loaning are lowing; We '11 be at our sport ere young Nelly be there. The weather is prime, and the stream in good order; Arouse ye, then, anglers! wherever you be,— In Scotland, in Ireland, in Wales, on the Border,— Fit your rods, and away to the fishing with me ! WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO. %%t jftefjer's <§atlanti FOR 185 I. The Auld Fishers Visit to North Tyne. [By Robert Roxby. Published in " Richardson's Borderers' Table Book," i8< titled, "Epistle originally addressed to Robert Boyd, Esq., April 26, 1840."] OW over auld Keildar's wild muirs The breezes blaw saft frae the west; Spring pranks 'midst her blossoms and flowers, An' the fields in their verdure new drest. The lav'rocks are up in the sky, Saluting the sun's glorious beams; And the fisher is casting the fly In North Tyne's meandering streams. There's breckans at Deadwater Well, And vi'lets at Hesleyside Ha', The peewits on Hareshaw's brown Fell, And the blasts o' grim winter awa'. I 'm off in a whirlwind o' vapour ; On " Tractor's metallic" I'm gone, Wi' my creel, reel, an' angle, sae taper,— Away to the streams o' Falstone. 2l8 The Auld Fishers There, far frae the town's busy bustle, O'er the gay, daisied haughs will I roam, And list to the song o' the throstle Where blue-bells and wild roses bloom. So welcome! the hawthorn and hazel, The ivy-girt elm and "Witch-tree;" I hate the street's dirdum and dazzle, Rocks, rivers, and wild woods for me. All hail! to the moorlands and mosses, To the lads wi' their collies and kent, And to a' the Tyne-side's winsome lassies Wha lightly bound over the bent. And hail! to the hill and the heather, The heathcock and whistling curlew; Once more I shall hear the shrill plover, And the days o' life's morning renew. They may talk of " Arabian bowers," And " myrtle groves" over the sea; Give me my Northumbria's wild flowers, And the hills o' my native countrie ! I have fish'd in the Coquet sae clear, The Brownie, the Breamish, and Reed; I have tried the Kale, Wansbeck, and Wear, And tackled the trouts o' the Tweed. Visit to North Tyne. 219 I have roved on the braes o' famed Yarrow, I have traversed the Teviot and Toy; Thrawn the flie in the Devon and Dee, And mony a stream farther away. And now, in the North Tyne's trouty river, My skill piscatorial I '11 try, Wi'."the heuk and the hair" I'm still clever; So laugh, and look out for "a Fry." ROBERT ROXBY. «£ FOR 1852. 1 MP The Coquet Anglers Matin Song. jAND'RING by the streams apart, Glad and calm as they; Plying still my simple art, All the live-long day; Seeking out the shadiest nooks Of the winding moorland brooks, Where the pearly waters sleep In their quiet pools and deep ; Where the greedy trout doth lie, Ready for the ensnaring fly; Who so free from weeping sorrow, And from care, as 11 Ere the bird hath hail'd the light, With his matin hymn; Ere the sun hath put to flight Mist and vapour dim; Forth through meadows wet with dew, I my wonted path pursue, Drinking in the morning wind, Leaving weariness behind, Smiling with the smiling sky, Singing ever joyously— Who so free from weeping sorrow, And from care, as 11 m 224 The Coquet Angler's Matin Song. Pleasant 1?hi3ughts, De sure, are mine, Hopes as pleasant too, When the river's silvery line Opens to my view. Ah! how little dream the crowd, 'Midst the city's tumult loud, How much pure and real bliss May be found in scenes like this ; If they doubt the verity, Let them hearken to my cry— Who so free from weeping sorrow, And from care, as I % Food for deep delight, I find Unexhausted round; In the sunbeam and the wind, In the river's sound; And when heavily I feel Struggling fish within my creel, When the eddying waters flash At the monsters' sullen dash, More and more exultingly Doth my joyous spirit cry— Who so free from weeping sorrow, And from care, as I % Thou who heapest, day by day, Wealth that cannot aid, Cast thy weary load away— Come and try my trade ! The Coquet Angler's Matin Song. 225 Soon, or I mistake, thou'lt see A far richer argosy, In the wealth by nature pour'd, At thy feet, a boundless hoard; Soon, I wot, right heartily, Thou wilt join my song, and cry, Who so free from weeping sorrow, And from care, as I % THOMAS WESTWOOD. 2 J, Cfce jftsfjer'a (^arlantj FOR 1853. An Anglers Reverie. Air—" Come live with me," &c. OW pleasante on a sweet Spring morne, When dewdrops linger on the thorne, When primrose banks, and honied bowers, Are kiss'd by sweetest April showers— Through flowr'y meades to wende our way, When sunrise welcomes the sweete daie, At chrystal brooks our thirste t' assuage, And worship God through Nature's page. With Angle rod and lightsome hearte, Our conscience cleare, we gay departe, To pebbly brooks, and purling streams ; No cankefd care disturbs oure dreames. Oh ! surely virtuous must be That crafte, where Nature mirrors Thee, On every side we see Thy power; From craggy rocke to simple flower. m 230 An Angler's Reverie, Whilst under shady Sycamore, Regardless of each fleeting houre, Some deare Friend's converse we enjoy, (.Hire earthlie bliss has no alloye. From summer Sun's oppressive heate, From worldlie cares, a short retreate, Indulging freely in vain dreames, Of Halcyon daies by murm'ring streams. JOSEPH CRAWHALL. n r TrH w > (\ m 8<i P H Wi -rW /I fll if; 4 ^_. fl frt* ff s*= ST M <k- 15 a-*£- if J *►■ r»c| C u X ► (l. ►[ <cL 1 *H- -*► • e G2 | ► |§ ■< ► ■"3 ■ <i - m r, i ► ~t~h M <£_i 4 Sr • ■ Irt 4 Hn H Ct)e fhtiptf* (iarlanti FOR 1854. $ m «3 -*|Vp 11 Iplf —L; 1 §311 » . — H "^,7""" j8ft*?Bfee# 91 ^egentie of #e guerre Coquette* KILJf toonne fjoteom ©ommeres morne/ tofien fieggeaf gate fietiecfet/ ffiBgtl) fmtotfjorne frfosKoms/ Moom= gnge sioes/ antie meaDotoes Oeto fiespecfet/ 234 A Legende of (KJ&en jogous songsterres onne ec&e ffptraie melo&gous armong/ Discoorsefc/ to glaDUe ge fcerte of manne/ gnne cfjearfuW sgmpfjome/ Ctoo fgiffiff|)errejff togtfie t&etr 3n$e rofctres left elDe pons <&lii/ atoafe fromme imste fiumrne of men tfiegre cunngnge sfcgiie to trge/ *Bg Cofeette JRgfcerres lofceite streamgiff/ anfce gn goofce time arrgtie atte afcfelgngtoun/ tofjere lustgige to fgii tfjegre creeigs tfjeg strgfte* aiie fionor to tfigsse merrie spoorte pursue!) gn spgrgte fagre/ aiie fionor to ge anggfjts tfjat fgssfie tagtf) menoe/ fige/ anti fmgre/ Cfjegre fiarnags mete anO fetlg mafce/ stoete Ugspojrtes tfjeg pattafte/ 3[n feglignge troughs/ or ©amon stgil more comftorous for to tafee; «a ye Ryuerre Coquet. 235 Butte angle ge atte bgtgnge tgme togtf) fiagtes fiotfi goolie anDe fine/ jFrage not ge fgssfie fig Sggfite of manne tofien ©unne Dot£) 6rggf)tlie si)ine/ Stgrre notte ge oute gn toetier colDe/ gn rafne anD sleate an&e snottie/ ©se efierge mannerre of fagre fiagte/ fiutte—tion't list @>amon JRoe* jtte is onfagre untoe ge fgssfie tf)gs poac&gnge fiagte to ust/ Cfiogfie aHe aDmgtte tfjat troughs itte tagll from toorme an& magote cfiuse; $otoe tfiese ttno angle fgssfjems fareD/ fiefoore tfigsse ILegen&e enOs Jf ou 'fl iearoe—tfjage fiotlj belong!) toe tfie ©ocgetge offe JTrgenn&s/ OBotfte toere afitigcteO to tlje iSoe/ anDe sette foortf) gn fulle flotiDe Co fgC t&egre creelgs/ anU toaioto gn/ fig pocfiegnge/ poore trougfits fiiooti; I 236 A Legende of Cfiogfie jogous toas ge ©omerres Date tofien tfieg tljegre spoorte fiegan/ jTorre manie fioures tfie Date fiefoore gnne furge Coquette ranne/ ©cfiee mafclge leapt o'er rocfees/ tfiro Dells/ from fieafite someres spate/ anDe ofe ge ffrenDgs togetfigr starte/ gnne Eoe to recreate; ffiOgtfi fiamour/ pgnsons/ clam/ anD fgle/ tfiegr fiofces toere fetlg magD/ Cfiegr angle roDDes offe fagre filaclt tfjorne/ for Ignes tfiag DgDDe gntmDe ye Ryuerre Coquet. 237 a tofigte fiorse tagl/ ge longest fieeres anD fagrest tfieg coulD gette/ CKHgtl) ale anDe alum^coloreD grene anD plomfie of leaD fagre sette I Cfieg satte Doton fige faer ^ortogcfes streme togtf) roe ge troutes to catclje/ anD fiasfegng gn ge @>omercs @>unne/ for figtes fiotfi eaggr toatcfie/ ®%m further uppe tfie streame tfieg fgssfie tgl (Fugjance mill tfiag Sggfite/ DescenDgng tljenne to Ctuarrte fjole— tfiegmselties to gette a figte/ jTorre fiongeres piercgnge tfiorne fiaD noioe taarnD ecfie one/ l)gs manne inner/ Cfiogfie fgssfignge fie spoort e'er soe gooDe/ t6ere 's as mocfje spoort gn Dgnerre* *Bg tfigs tgme Coltetes fteairie flouD ittes fitgfiest pognte IjaDDe past/ anD efee ge fgssfierre mougfjt fiafce trgD/ togtfi frauDful Ages a caste/ f ! I 238 A Legende of ©ee! see! loofee! loofee! crgeD one of tfiegm/ ge smeltes rgse farre anD neare/ anD certes/ tfieg onne surface plaieD anD fiotfie frennDgs fieartes DgDD cfiere/ Cfiag tfiogfit/ ge fgssfie of plafgnge tgreD/ toolD sefee tfiegr fetfigrD fooDe anDe eagerlte ecfie sei?eD figs roDDe anD toaDeD gn ge flouDe/ OButte negtfier coulOe ge fgssfies smgte tfiogfi togtfi luste tfieg toere smgtten/ Cfie smelts atte Ctuafegrres Ages toont figte/ ge Ctuafegrres ttoafn toegr figttgn; Cfiogfi no more DgDD tfie rgfier rgse/ get stgll tfiag Deeper toegr/ gnsensgfilg tfiag sanfc anD sanfe gn qugcfesanDs treacfigrous snagr/ COfien soDagn tfie fell grtfi gafie toage/ anD Dofome heneatfi ge toafie ffittent toon of tfiegm/ tofiirlD oer anD oer figs frgenD figmself DgD safie pi ye Ryuerre Coquet. 239 *Bg clgnggnge to a torilloe firauncfi tfiat ofierfionge ge streame/ anDe tofitlst fie Dries figs Drgppgnge cloatfies— Igste to ge otfigrs Dreme* £)er fieDDe anD eares gn muDDe anD sanDe togtfie toater Drumlte mirt/ jFul greuous toete anDe Dgsmal colDe/ fie tfiogfit figs fignnt toas 6'rt/ ipuge fgssfies togtfi large gogggl eges anD rafcenous slgmfe eeles/ (Bxttz sfeegggrrs togtfi tfiegr tagls figm struck/ anDe laugfitgr burst gn peales jTrom Cofeettes fgnnge Dengjens tofio neDes muste fiafie Dgsporte/ anD firogfit ge quafegnge Ctuafegrr up at olDe mgnge Coquets courte; CKUfien tfius ge i&gnge—ffiHfiat Doe ge fiere ? tofig jogne ge gnne our reele ? tfou'fawtoe tfiat etgltette forfigDDes atte oure lefiee a creele/ 240 .A Legende of anD tfiogfie gou 'fie not possescgon got offe Igtfisom anggl roDDe get as gou 'fie in oure clutcfigs falln/ toe 11 serue gou oute—ecoD ffitBfiat scfialle toe Doe ?—tofiirl oer anD oer— enjoge oure quget reelgs CKHfiglst toe oure preug councglle meete gou fiere male ftgcftlte gour fieles* (f)fi! Ctuafegrre trulie rggfitlie nagmD— ge frgenD DgDD quagft togtfi feare) Dfi! Eoialle S@aisterre, mggfitie Egnge/— €)fi! JLorDe/1 feele soe queere; Jf ea fierglge gffe tfiou toilt spare mg Igfe onne tfigsse occacgon Cfige purlgnge stremes from mg Desines ne moo scfial DreDD gnuacgon* ffiUgtfi marfeeD sneere anD Depe contempte ge Boialle face DgD mofie/ gou 'fie trgeD/ quotfi fie/ gour creelgs to fgll- gou can't catcfie us/ fig Jofie; I ye Ryuerre Coquet. 241 <KBe Don't complagne of tofiat gou ftglle/ fiutte atte oure nejrte assg^e (Ktte trulie meane to gnDgte gou forre frggfitenngnge ge Ages; (Kle cannot gette a quget meale tofigle gou tfie toatterre tfirasfie anDe/ as onne surfaice gou tfiegm frggfite/ toe 'H settgll noto goure fiasfie; jForre tfigs offence oure sentence Iggfite toe merelg Doe commanDe/ Cfiat from tfigs tgme tfigs CtugcfesanDs name fie cfianggD to dualtesanD/ a grafter cfiarge toe fgnDe prefgrrD/ togtfi ©amon Boe gou fgssfie/ anDe alle offencgs of tfigsse fegnDe toe '11 grefiouslie pungssfie* !£>arfte! alle ge future ages—Igste !— oure proclamacgon Imotoe:— $ere folotogtfi a sentence passD forre Igssfignge @>amon IRoe; Q w 242 A Legende of ye Ryuerre Coquet. mz notoe assemfiglD gn ful courte— £D! culprgte Doe notte tfiole, jTromme tfigsse Daie—cos gou usz tfigsse fiagte— nagme tfigsse :— pe (^ua^feerresi Hole* JOSEPH CRAWHALL. Ctje .jFtstjer'g #arlauU FOR 1855. MP it Lines addressed to a Friend, ON RECEIVING AN INVITATION TO JOIN HIM FOR A DAY'S FLY-FISHING IN NORTH TYNE. HE bee, 'mid flowers still fond to roam, At sunset seeks his moorland home; When dying day forsakes the west, The lav'rock finds his lowly nest; And I—who would, a truant, stray In youth 'mid waters far away— Now gladly throw my latest line At home upon the banks of Tyne. Alas! how often those that toil In distant realms, for fortune's spoil, And crowd with care their little span, Are fain to end where they began! Home-sick, they turn their eyes once more 'Cross ocean's waste, to Britain's shore; And I, returning, throw my line Upon my native banks of Tyne. Enough for me,—though, since the day When I would wander far away, I 've seen full many a pleasure go, And many a loving heart laid low— 246 Lines addressed to a Friend. Enough for me, that, spite of ill, I love the sparkling waters still,— And friends still bid me not repine, But welcome to the banks of Tyne. The early beam, in mists that rose, In evening on the water glows; The sod, that smiled in spring-time showers, Autumn embroiders still with flowers; Spring, summer, autumn, scatter bland Fresh garlands each, with careless hand, And I with joy can throw my line— Gray-hair'd—upon the banks of Tyne. And, when the dalesman bars his door, And darkness broods o'er moss and moor, And sport at length must have an end, And wearied anglers homeward bend,— There, where wit smiles at humour's birth, And wisdom can shake hands with mirth, The genial day I '11 crown with wine, Upon the heathery banks of Tyne. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. April 7, 1855. Cl)e jfteljer'g <&atlanti FOR 1856. m. H The Jolly Anglers. Tune—"Happy Friendship." RIEN'S, we 've fish'd a' day thegither, Where's three better-hearted chiels? Some like Streams, and some the Heather, Sport to a', we 've fill'd our Creels. Envy's na found at our table, Joyous we thegither clan, Drink the Gad, the Gun, the Stable : Let each Brither be a Man. See us smiling a' guid nature, Cankefd Care's no us amang, Joy depicted on each feature, Still mair happy by this sang. Now we '11 sing the Hunter's pleasure, Now we '11 toast the Dog and Gun, Each his faVrite Sport may treasure, Luck to a',—our Day's work's done. May Nimrods aye find Foxes plenty, And ha'e mony a pleasant run; Muir-fowl, may the dogs aft scent ye : Sport for Man wi' Dog and Gun. 250 The Jolly Anglers. Why should envious feelings haunt usl Adverse pleasures a' agree; What care we gin Toonsmen taunt us ? Kintra sports are fair and free. Though we care na Hounds to follow, Muir-cocks care we na to spring; Yet we haud him a guid fallow That can cheerie a' Sports sing. Noo, Frien's, join we a' in Chorus, Let a' Sportsmen Brithers be ; Meikle sport we hope's afore us, Be't what may, we '11 aye agree. Chorus, (con Strep.) Frien's, we've fish'd, &c. JOSEPH CRAWHALL. i The Jolly Anglers. 251 < HAPPY FRIENDSHIP." Moderato. frrvT^^Ji 11 ■J' 11 *m $=rrf.i\r.iiii£f±&±& m -m p • eufg. wm ^=^ m $=» r_£=z£: ?—&- D.C. al Fine. f=tr-^^^^^^m %ty jFt0l)er'0 <§atlantr FOR 1857. f The Anglers Matin Song. Tune—" The Howes o' Glenorchie." j]HE Sun's gowden orb now dispels morning mists, And gaily the laverock lilts i' the sky ; The crood o' the cushats the chorus assists, Whilst the bees frae the brume to wild heather- bells fly; The throstle now whustles frae bonnie birk-tree, And dew-beads are drappin' frae ilka green bush, The vi'lets and gowans that sprent every brae Wi' perfumes the sweet Simmer morn's air suffuse. The wee lammies sport by the side o' the yowes, And o'er the lush meadows the croonin' kye stray, Bright Phoebus wi' gowd paints the braes, fells, and knowes, And sweet blushing briar-buds welcome the day ; The wastlin' wind soughs through the saft waving corn, And draps frae the hedges the wat blobs o' dew, Where'er turns the Angier, sweet flow'rets adorn His path—ilka step rural pleasures accrue. The clear wimplin' burnie rows on its fair course, | Enchanting his soul wi' its sweet melodie;" On ilka side Nature wi' him holds discourse, And frae a' warldly cares feels his conscience is free; MP 256 The Angler's Matin Song. The fox-gloves and gowden whuns bow to the breeze, And wild roses wantonly try to ensnare Wi' their sweet-scented May-buds th' wandering bees, And hawthorns' snaw-blossoms perfume the sweet air. The twittering ouzel frae stane to stane flits, Wi' his dusky gray jacket and snawy white throat; The hern-seugh his eyrie for scaly fry quits, And ilk feather'd chorister tunes up his note ; What joys then around us on ilka side seen, And wha wad na follow this charming pursuit; He that cares na to worship auld Nature's fair Queen May aye be weel pleased wi' a creelfu' o' Trout JOSEPH CRAWHALL. The Angler's Matin Song. 257 "THE HOWES O' GLENORCHY." Con Spirito. HS 4—\—& ^F1 yzpg 4=3q '•* „jL :g*=i—M-^3^ fi ^-4—jm-J^ tff f <T 1 EET * € 1r* tT" /• rf" a U irp- sS^ -^-«7»- 3^ jffe&er'£ Variant! FOR 1858. £ MP r ggiipifi^B ipif Eiiteiiipljiip % 3&t$)te jHerrte Oiarlatttr, prouffgtafile to tfie fieele of S©anngs ©oule. J? Jpontgnge/ l^atofegnge/ jrotol= gnge/ Jfgssfinge/ OBcfie mage Sen goofie offe ttte's sorte/ Uutte tfie latterre onlie togssfignge/ COe escfietoe alle otfierre spoorte* 262 A Righte Merrie Garland. Cgfifige itifige olle telle lolle tolle I fioo/ Cgfifige itifige olle tolle lolle tge Dale/ Cgfitrge tOOge olle tolle lolle tolle age tioe/ Cgfifie ifitige olle tolle lolle tge fiaie* j?or Jponterres toolle tfie fiounOes Stglle folotoe/ asafigefi lafiorgous is to us/ QBlgSterrefi Igppes togtfie Uugel fiolotoe/ jTul sore stoettgnge/ inne a fussz. J£>atoiignge semgtfi nogous toe us/ (0ame anDe figsporte often goon/ amfigstgll ofte/ stglle fiatofees escfietoe us/ Cglle togtfie tfiirste toe are rggfite Ooon* jToulgnge semgtfi me mooste sgmpgl/ <35refious tfiogfie/ inne ffiOefier colfie/ ffiagtfie stancfie fioufilette anfi close togmpgll/ ©pefigtfi foortfie tfie jFoulere fiolfie. A Righte Merrie Garland. 263 jQone offe tfiegme a merrie Spgrgte #tte oure figspoortes mage incurre/ Cfiogfie ecfie ILuste maie fiafie a meritte/ Hngle fgssfignge toe preferre* Otfierre JFgssfignge 's toete antie grefious/ Cause offe grete infgrmgtees/ jfulle toete anti colfie is apte to lefie us/ OButte fiofte anfie Igne fig tfigsse canne lese* ©toeteste safioure offe mefie floures/ Ipolsom toalfee onne ©ommeres morne/ 9@elofigous fotoles grete erlge fioures/ @>toeterre farre tfian Jponterres fiorne. Crulie/ to mg fieste figscrecgon/ JTgssfignge is tfie mooste fieleigfite/ Cfigsse Jf ere o' tfigncarnacgon/ CI0.I0CCC.XXXXX.VIII.* 264 A Righte Merrie Garland. (€$1DM&b&®l moche as ye wolle.) CgDDge iDDge olle toHe lolle tolle i Do/ CgDDge iDDge olle tolle/ lolle tge Date/ CgDDge iDDge olle tolle lolle tol age Doe/ CgDDge iDDge olle tolle/ lol tge Daie* JOSEPH CRAWHALL. Cl)e jfteljer'a <&arlattTi FOR 1859. I The Anglers Address to his " Ladye Love." Tune—"Pack, clouds, away.' RISE! love, rise! Ope thy sweet eyes And hear a constant Lover; How fair thou art Let this poor Heart To thy chaste breast discover. The Sun is up; Each floVret's cup With dew is overflowing; The sportive Lambs Play by their dams, And Kye in meadows lowing. The tinkling rills Thro' heath-clad hills Their way to Ocean burrow; Birds on each spray Bid welcome day, And hail this sweet May morrow. w 268 The Angler's Address The speck'elt Trottt For flies look out As down the stream they whirl And fearless sail, To balmy gale Their gauzy wings unfurl. The summer Sun Earth's love has won Thus early this fair morning, Why should my Fair, Gay, debonair, Lie Somnus' bow'rs adorning 1 Sweet Sweeting, wake, That joy partake All Nature else enchanting; The cooing dove Now greets his Love, And mine alone is wanting. JOSEPH CRAWHALL. find? thmtih Binds ^rfoaseth* to his " Ladye Love." 269 "PACK, CLOUDS, AWAY." I^g^^ tce^i =P=F ■P—0- wms- -E=F *c=F =*=£ ¥>—^ r»-+-pi=h—*-+-E—v- =*=•= sic* ■k ^—I—^ # #—[- * • 9 ■9—\ ■ * d —d— fez^zg:^^^^^^^ li f fii Coquet-side. Tune—" Tak' your auld cloak about you. (For music, see " Garland for 1832.") |OW May has donn'd her kirtle rare; The day is lang, an' short the e'en ; The open sky how smiling fair! The burnies rin in glitterin' sheen. Newcastle smoke we left yestreen : Wi' Morpeth frien's we wadna bide ; And now by bank and meadow green We'll spend the day on Coquet-side. Oh, had we met when we were young Wi' Roxby here an' Doubleday— The lads unmatch'd that sweetly sung Sic fishing lays as last for aye; What rare delight to see the twae Wi' flees in order skim the tide, And hear the wit that well'd away Whene'er they cam' to Coquet-side ! The gloomy castle wa's are near, And Halystane lies down the glen : We '11 fettle now our fishing gear, And fairly fa' to wark like mem 274 Coquet-Side. O' toun-bred folk no ane i' ten, Wi' a' their senseless, empty pride, Can e'er the bliss—the pleasure ken That we enjoy at Coquet-side. See trouts are loupin' left and right; Now let your flees fa' softly down: The rain that patter'd through the night Has dyed the water lightly brown. Ye 've nabb'd him there—a switchin' loun— In stream or pool nae mair he '11 glide; Three fish like that are worth a crown To chiels like us on Coquet-side. Another's heuk'd—I hae him fast; The danglm' bob is snatch'd and a'; These lucky moments winna last; We hae a rise at ilka thraw. How fine the welcome breezes blaw, And curl in waves the dimplin' tide! Sic sport as this I never saw; What think ye now o' Coquet-side 1 Your kings might prize a shepherd's lot, Wi' streams below and hills abune; For blessings grace his cozy cot, When heart and saul are baith in tune. If life be like a day in June, As we hae choice 6' England wide, Wha wadna spend the afternoon, And gloamin' too, by Coquet-side? ROBERT WHITE. The Anglers Wish. Tun»—" When the kye come hame." OME all ye jolly Anglers that fancy in your dreams Ye 're killing gleg-e'ed trouties in fair Northumbrian streams; In Reed, or Till, or Beaument, sweet Wansbeck, Coquet, Tyne, My wish is, honest fishers, in this pleasant sport ye '11 shine; In this pleasant sport ye '11 shine, In this pleasant sport ye '11 shine ; My wish is, honest fishers, in this pleasant sport ye '11 shine. Whether Worm, or Flee, or Mennum y'r attention does engage, Bar roe and every other bait t&aft'd sully Walton's page; Gie the bonnie speckelt fry aijre a. fair chance for their fate, Kill nae Saumon, Trout, or Smettie when the stream's in spate. By far owre mony Anglers tak' pride upon their skill,. And proudly shew their panniers when rains the burnies fill; But gie me the skilful lad, when the water's clear and fine, At nicht shews a full basket by fair rod and line. Nae matter how ye get them gif ye do but angle fair, An* aft in sunny Simmer time yer skill is tested sair; But this I will maintain, that on ony bright June day, Wi' mennum or red worm ye '11 aye land y'r prey. I 278 The Angler's Wish. The flee ;s an unco bait i' the Spring-time o' the year, The saumon roe pruves deadly when streams are dark and drear; But of a' the lures we ken, nane can wi' the worm compare, Join'd wi' skill, nae gallant fisher need o' sport despair. Great men, Divines, Philosophers, of every degree, Hae swell'd our ranks. O Angling! o' sports thou bears the gree; Through thee we hold communion wi' the high powers above,— A paction o' guid fallowship, health, innocence, and love. JOSEPH CRAWHALL. i&eepe Cemper* The Angler's Wish. 279 ' WHEN THE KYE COME HAME." Cheerfully. ^^^^s^m^^m ^Rr- is , •-M^ 5=E^£ £S^I 5k •—P—P p >|7- •—P=£=3 •~zzg- ^^te^^^P^^^N^ N^^^^3Ed=JE itt i ^ l=J=rpz^=* -*E3t ^^ Efe:j=l Cfce jftsljer'g 4£atlatifc FOR l862. The Conqueror Worm. To its ain Tune. IE may sing o' red heckles, an' May-flees forby, Your lang casts and fine, i' the Spring; But a bonnie red Worm, i' bright June, let me try, And to bank fast the Trouties I '11 bring. Then, here's to the Blue-head and bonnie Red Worm, Not forgetting the Mennum sae bright; Talc3 the twa i' their turn, wi' fine tackle and firm, I'll count the Ilee-fisher at nicht. I care na to ha'e owre a limmer gad, I care na to ha'e meikle line; Yet still to my Creel weight and number I '11 add, Though I fling but ane out at a time. A fifteen-fit rod, stiff out till the top joint, Is the weapon I fainest wad wield; But aye mak it fine as ye near the point, And lightsome to hand in its build. Awa' wi' your Fishers doon stream wi' lang line When the streamlets are drumlie and drear; An Angler's skill's shewn when the Water is fine, In sweet June, when she's glassy and clear. 284 The Conqueror Worm. Iml Up ! up ! wi' the Worm, ahint stanes, under braes, Wi' little mair fine than your Gad, And the Trouties '11 find that their deadliest faes Are na May-flees, red heckles, or Cad. The Flee's aft been sung, and its virtues extoll'd For filling a Creel wi' sma'. Fry; But after this sang, gentle Fisher, mak' bold The red Worm in Simmer to try. We 've emptied our flasks tho' we 've aye fill'd our creels, And now for a nicht's sweet repose; Up early the morning, ^and at them like De'ils, For to-morrow our Campaign must close. We 've sung a guid Sang, and imbibed quantum sufif., And empty the Bottle o' Wine is; 'Tis as guid as a feast, the auld Saw says, enough ; Sae now. Brither Fishermen—FINIS. CHORUS. Then, here's to the Blue-Mad and bonnie Red Worm, Not forgetting the Mennum sae bright; TaK the twa i' their turn, wir fine tackle and firm, I'll count the Flee-fisfier at nichf. JOSEPH CRAWHALL. Cf)e jftstjer's #arlatrt> FOR 1863. m *£&IL i The Dying Anglers Last Look at Coquet. Tune—" The mill, mill, O ! HE night draws nigh—across the sky Creep shadows of the gloaming ; But drearier still, and deathly chill, I feel my dark hour coming. Now lift me in thine arms, stout son, And thou, O loving daughter, - Stand back—my farewell gaze must fall On Coquet's lovely water. Stand back—throw wide the pane—thank God, These eyes behold, in dying, With lingering strain, so fond and fain, The scene before me lying. The south wind moans—I know its tones; And see, O loving daughter, How day's last beam does flush the stream, And gilds the glittering water. Now place my rod beside my hand— I live in days gone by; I climb the steeps, I wade the deeps, I throw the cunning fly! j jm 288 The Dying Angler's Wild w&kls my reel, full grows my creel-^- O son! O loving daughter! In maddest dream was ever stream Could match with Coquet's water 1 Hark! 'twas a salmon's splash—aha! He's hook'd; my rod bends double! A royal fish! the pool afar Foams round his stormy trouble. He yields, he dies—a noble prize ! O son ! O loving daughter! In maddest dream was ever stream Could match with Coquet's water 1 In the blest land of heaven, they say, Are rivers fair beholden, That by God's throne flow murmuring on O'er opal sands and golden. My lot may be those streams to see ; But, O dear son and daughter! Shall I ne'er cast a backward glance To Coquet's lovely water 1 Take back my gad, and lay me down, Stout son—'tis gone for ever! My life ebbs fast; I 've look'd my last On that beloved river. Thank God, my latest word shall be, O faithful son and daughter ! For happy times, and loving bairns, And for Coquet's bonny water! THOMAS WESTWOOD. Last Look at Coquet. "THE MILL, MILL O!" Andante. ^^PPP^^HE±J±^ m t3=±=t± I if=H= ^P ;^p=q>c^ ^ V^-M^ tF i v i r* =?-F -T> pff PJd- E^B ^p=z=N: P pm^m&ir^rQigmt i t^=§=t?=j^i^gp gg^^ =tfts= %ty jfteljet's #atlanU FOR 1864. ^ Th€ Angler's Toast. •J k?3¥w M Tune—" The General Toast; or, Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen." RINK, my boys, drink to the sports o' the field, Drink to the Gad, Gun, and Stable; Each to its devotee pleasure does yield, Not the least the glad " meet" round the table. Let each drink his glass To his favourite Lass, I hope eighty lang years they thegither may pass. How joyous to Hunters the sound o' the horn; To the Lads o' the Trigger the whirrin' O' pheasant frae thicket, or pairtrick frae corn; To the Fisher his braw brass wheel birrin'! Chorus again— We agree i' the main, Sae rattle the rafters till a' ring again. Ilk Brither 's accorded his favour'd pursuit; Success to his honest endeavour, Be't hunting, or shooting, or heuking a trout— The sports of auld England for ever! For Nimrod, hurrah! Ramrod an* a'! Lang rod an' red heckle can fettle them a\ 294 The Angler's Toast. Here's to auld Roxby, the Coquetdale Bard, As weel 's his poetic compeers— True anglers their mem'ries will ever regard; Let's toast them, my boys, wi' three cheers. For—on Coquet " the Nine" Ha'e biggit a shrine That a' the warld owre immortal shall shine. Frae Coquet, the scene o' their aft joyous " meet" Time ne'er can their " Garlands" dissever; Frae Warkworth to Barraburn's lanely retreat, The Coquet for aye an' for ever! Weldon's auld Ha'! Felton an' a', Rothbury, Hepple, an' bonnie WoodhcC. May our hearts be o' happiness full as our creels, As our journey through life it will sweeten, Ane toast 'fore we part—fill a bumper—nae heels, And—here's to " our next merrie meetin'." Chorus again— We agree i' the main, An'—now it is time we were " toddlin' name." JOSEPH CRAWHALL The Anglers Toast. 295 ' THE GENERAL TOAST." ^_—p-0 p " —.,—g» p .) " 8) J-* J—aJ^rbaii TT?—^?n sn—M-r =t j^Hftr^S^^^ ziia: E£rzr=s^ fes Ig^ijga FOR 1864. (autumn jSumfcer*) ii f " The Last o the Season/ Tune—" Up in the Mornin' airly." jlT's the turn o' the year for September beer; The breezes fast are changin'; On ilk hill-head, ye may ken by their tread, The frosts hae there been rangin': Nay, 'mang the lang grass, as through it ye pass, The rind clings white and pearly; There's naething now for't, gin ye wad hae sport, But up in the Mornin' airly! Yet never despair, though keen be the air, An7 auld Coquet sniffs Winter before him ; Though his streams sae bauld rin clear an' cauld, As the braid Har'st moon glow'rs owre them; For when the Morn's eye shall make gray the sky, Ye '11 find them purlin' cheerly : And there's naething now for't, gin ye wad hae sport, But up in the Mornin' airly! Then up i' the dark!—What tho' the lark Still's snug in her grassy dwellin'; Though, frae out the brake, the wary crake Nae tale o' his covert's tellin': 300 The Last o' the Season. And though close at your feet, 'mang the clover sweet, Ye startle the pairtrick sairly: There's now naething for't, gin ye wad hae sport, But up in the Mornin' airly ! .See, the gray morn peeps on streams an' deeps; An' the mennims now are playin', Where.the stream rins bauld, in his darksome hauld The monarch-Trout is stayin'. Then your black flee fling with a light, gray wing* Let your cast fall saft and sparely; For there's naething now for't, gin ye wad hae sport, But up in the Mornin' airly! Sae your cast be vain, at once refrain; Wha drives when there's nae leadin' ? Let the lav'rock spring, an' the bee take wing, An' he 'se be in the cue for feedin'. Then the flee sae sma', an' the maisterly thraw, Maun shew " the craftsman" fairly; Oh! there's naething now for't, gin ye wad hae sport, But up in the mornin' airly! Though the monarch's slain, there'll still remain Anither hour for slaughters; Gin the frosts ha'e been through the night fu' keen, An' keenly nipp'd the waters ; For, just where the beams now are warming the streams, The troutlets they'll a' loup rarely. Oh ! there's naething now for't, gin ye wad hae sport, But—up in the Mornin' airly! THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. May 2, 1864. The Last o' the Season. 301 'UP IN THE MORNIN' EARLY.' Vivace. I ! =^^^^e^l^^Eg P =#=^8= =^=?- i9oto, toget&er! ©Bitft a toffl, Qpm! %n jftemortam. 3iM» firg 1**1 Mr? Hi* •a ir*;x^ j|LEST be thy memory, Father of Anglers, Ne'er shall it perish whilst we can throw line ; Aloof from our ranks keep all scoffers and wranglers, May no worthless pilgrim e'er sully thy shrine. Green grow the grass o'er thy last silent resting-place, Peace to thy ashes,—we honour thy name; Long since thou 'st reached the good Christian's trysting-place, Here thou 'st a niche in the Temple of Fame. JOSEPH CRAWHALL. A^**A/yvo&*^ , Brief Notices of some Contributors to the Original Garlands. HOBERT ROXBY—July 30, 1846.—Died, in Newcastle, in his 79th year, Mr Robert Roxby. The deceased was born at Needless Hall, Reedsdale, Northumberland, and, having lost his father at an early age, he was confided to the care of Mr Gabriel Goulburn, an extensive farmer in the neighbourhood. With that person he led a rambling kind of life until his twenty-fifth year, when Mr Goulburn became insolvent, and the small fortune of Mr Roxby being lost in the wreck, he was cast penniless upon the world. About 1798, he became a clerk in the bank of Sir W. Loraine & Co., in Newcastle; and on the failure of that establishment, he entered the bank of Sir M. W. Ridley & Co., where his cleverness as an accountant soon became remarkable. After composing various pieGes of poetry, of more or less merit, he published by subscription, in 1808, an edition of two hundred and fifty copies of "The Lay of the Reedwater Minstrel," a ballad poem, which he had gradually expanded into three books from a mere metrical epistle of a few stanzas addressed to Matthew Forster, Esq. of Broomy- holme, near Chester-le-Street In 1822, in conjunction with his friend, Mr Doubleday, then a young man, he published what proved to be the commencement of a series of lyrical 3io Brief Notices of some Contributors productions, which obtained a large (?) circulation, and which since his death have been collected under the title of " The Coquetdale Fishing Songs." In these ballads he took great pride, which their popularity sufficiently excused. That their originator should predict that songs which have been sung on the banks of the Ganges, and on the banks of the Hudson, would not speedily be forgotten, is quite pardonable. Several copies of verses contributed by him will be found in " Richardson's Table Book," and other local works. A striking portrait, ofthe deceased was executed in 1838, by Nicholson, from a sketch by Train.—Local Records of Northumberland and Durham, <$*c, by John Latimer, 1832-1857. [ILLIAM GILL THOMPSON.— October 21, 1844. —Died, in Newcastle, aged 48, Mr William Gill Thompson, reporter in the Newcastle Chronicle Office. Besides very great professional ability, he possessed considerable poetical talent and literary attainments; and his contributions to various periodicals, both in prose and verse, were very generally admired.—Ibid. —Ibid. OBERT NICHOL.— April 14, 1838.—Died, in Newcastle, aged 62, Mr Robert Nichol, the author of several compositions in prose and verse, some of which were printed in the Newcastle Magazine. /r^S^^ \/^^ fZir***.** e&r**>*& A^^^ ^^-^u7^ to the Original Garlands. 311 j|EV. HENRY COTES.— February 8, 1835.—Died, at Bedlington, aged 76, the.Rev. Henry Cotes, Vicar of that place. Mr Cotes was endowed with considerable literary attainments, and was the author of " Sketches of Truth," in three volumes, and several other works, both in poetry and prose.—Ibid. iJMERSON CHARNLEY.—August 13, 1845.—Died, in Newcastle, aged 63, Mr Emerson Charnley, bookseller—a business which he and his father had conducted in the town for nearly a century, and which won for him from Dr Dibdin the title of " The Veteran Emperor of Northumbrian booksellers."—Ibid. pLLIAM GREENE.—William Greene was born in Newcastle-on-Tyne in 1788. His father, William Greene, carried on a considerable business as a manufacturer of pins, and also as an oil-crusher, in the vicinity of Newcastle; in the latter of these callings his son succeeded him. After the peace of 1815, the business becoming unprofitable, he wound up his affairs, and, after a time, became manager of the Carlisle station of the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway. By the deaths of two maiden sisters, he, 312 Brief Notices, &c. however, became ultimately possessed of a handsome competency, and died in Newcastle in 1861. He was never married. Mr Greene was fond of literary pursuits, was a good draughtsman, and fond of angling. He was also endowed with very considerable poetical talent; and, in conjunction with his cousin, Mr Doubleday, published, in 1818, through Baldwin & Co., the London booksellers, a collection of " Sixty-five Sonnets and other Poems." Some of the former are reprinted, with high commendation, in " Houseman's Collection of English Sonnets." Mr Greene died, rather suddenly, of effusion on the brain; and was, for a short time before his death, incapable of much mental exertion. He has- left behind him a MS. volume of Sonnets, some of which are of great beauty, and, were the time congenial to this species of writing, would repay publication. The above particulars are furnished by Mr Doubleday; and, I rejoice to add, I have received the valuable advice and assistance of that gentleman and Mr Robert White in this compilation. Farewell—au revoir. GEORGE RUTLAND, Itofcgelkr anti Pufjlfgjjet, 22 Blackett Street, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Begs to remind the Public that he has the whole of the remaining Stock of that valuable and entertaining work, published in continuation of Mr Sykes's work of the same title, by John Latimer, THE LOCAL RECORDS; Or, HISTORICAL REGISTER OF REMARKABLE EVENTS, Which have occurred in Northumberland and Durham, Newcastle- upon-Tyne, and Berwick-upon-Tweed. With Biographical Notices of Deceased Persons of Talent, Influence, &c, in the District. 1832—1857. Illustrated and Printed, uniform with Mr Sykes's Work, $vo, cloth lettered, ptiblished 13s. 6d. for gs. lust published, price 5 j1., THE CHRONICLE OF Cf)e 'Compteat Angler OF IZAAK WALTON AND CHARLES COTTON. BEING A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL RECORD OF ITS VARIOUS PHASES AND MUTATIONS. By THOMAS WESTWOOD. LONDON: WILLIS AND SOTHERAN, 136 STRAND. »*®& 'jwjS F * zmmKL c<k <ss&jJm33t, «sq m ^^^W^^^^s^^^a^S^^ ^ PBdWBh^' &^/^g*&tr ^ 'i^jSmWIir^ ==-4J? M mW3^&<& WP"- -^£ml&£: <T4 K SSfc^^<3&2rtfe-^'-,'< t< 11 ^^^^^^^K^-^S^^^^^l <3fc! is ^^^^^^^^S0U' 0^i ^i p -»3P*^e^ c: r£^B& i& :-l «:-4 2 ^K^BCSQC'c^^fe-^^i*^^ -*• 4 pi Se ^SNl^fe Vf|R*f^lIL* *S&i J ?**| Ii as»5SSBs»3sSs3a!§^ ,,^^t«*.;^3-a. 3 g^^ ^ '^^^^F^^^:'-:k^^^^^Si *" M ^a^c^«s^fc^-«: «^s o ^ ^ss^ai^s^^^^c^- cc <§c«i 13 ~ <8Q^«^r^S>^^ «3E3EL_- «t. "2&:. S^ET- "*e ^^^^^X^^^^^.^s^s^^ ^mZ- jc ^ffi^^^^a^^fe^:.?^^^ P ^ tffisrcam^r** J?W}M^F*&&m££' «: <r«ai^ Et 4 a <as». roc
Books
English
Vancouver : University of British Columbia Library
Newcastle-on-Tyne : George Rutland
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Original Format: University of British Columbia. Library. Woodward Library. Memorial Room. Hawthorn collection. PN6110 .A6 C7 1864
Fishing--Poetry
English poetry
A Collection of right merrie garlands for North Country anglers
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