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MUSICAL AND LITERARy MISCELLANY.
THE BLACK-HAIRED LADDIE,
41
Gaelic Air.
Slowly.
Words by D. Tough.
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A - lack my sad heart! how it throbs wi' its sor-row ; I ne'er can a - wa' wi' the
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thoughts o' to - mor - row; My fa - ther bt bargain'd to part wi' his Flo - ra, My
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black-hair'd dear lad-die, O tak me a- wa! My black-hair'ddear laddie O tak me a-wa!
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Alack, my sad heart! how it throbs wi' its sorrow;
I ne'er can awa wi' the thoughts o' to-morrow ;
My father he bargain'd to part wi' his Flora,
My black-hair'd dear laddie, O tak me awa.
I flee frae the grey-headed laird an' my father,
I flee to my shepherd, wha trips owre the heather ;
We aye were fu' glad when at e'en we'd forgather ;
My black-hair'd dear laddie, tak me awa.
The story is tauld, an' her father's confounded ;
The ha' wi' his rage an' rampagin' resounded; [ed.
The horn,an'the shout'sspreadin' clamour, far sound-
To tell wha the shepherd had carried awa.
Owre hill, stream, an' valley, through bramble an'
They flew till the fugitives were overtaken ; [brecken.
They've torn them asinder,theirtenderheartsbreakin';
The black-hair'd poorshepherd they drave h im awa.
The shepherd he look'd in a sad sort o' languish,
An' Flora, cwre-come, in a heart breakin' anguish,
Exclaim'd "frosty-headed laird ne'er shall extinguish
My love for the laddie they've driven awa."
Then Flora, my life's saul, refrain thy sad sorrow.
Nor heed ye the purposed plan o' to-morrow.
The dotard is doited, thy shepherd dear Flora,
Ere mornii-g's gray dawnin' will hae thee awa.
A MUSICAL SUPPER PARTY.
£ was at one of those private concerts given at an
enormous expense during the opera season, at which
" assisted" Julia Grisi, Rubini, Lablache, Tambu-
rini, and Ivanhoff. Grisi came in the carriage of a
foreign lady of rank, who had diyied with her, and she
walked into the room looking like an empress. She
was dressed in the plainest white, with her glossy
hair put smooth from her brow, and a single white
japonica dropped over one of her temples. The lady
who brought her chaperoned her during the evening,
as if she had been her daughter, and under the ex-
citement of her own table and the kindness of her
friend, she sung with a rapture and a /VesAet of glory
(if one may borrow a word from the Mississippi)
which set all hearts on fire. She surpassed her most
applauded hour on the stage — for it was worth her
while. The audience was composed almost exclu-
sively of those who are not only cultivated judges,
but who sometimes repay delight with a present ot
diamonds. Lablache shook the house to its founda-
tions in his turn ; Rubini ran through his miraculous
compass with the ease, truth, and melody for which
his singing is unsurpassed ; Tamhurini poured his
rich and even fulness on the ear, and Russian Ivan-
hofl", the one southern singing-bird who has come
out of the north, wire-drew his fine and spiritual
notes, tiU they who had been flushed, and tearful,
and silent, when the others hatl sung, drowned his
No. 6.