Α ΜΕΜΕΝΤΟ OF THE GREAT SCOTTISH VOLUNTEER REVIEW. Before Her Majesty, in the Queen's Park, Edinburgh, on the 7th August 1860. To Queen Victoria, THIS humble poem is inscribed, as a poor tribute in appreciation of her many domestic virtues, and a heartfelt feeling of national pride for her just and unwavering friendship for the people, and discerning admiration of the stern beauty of the scenery of ancient Caledonia-so amply typified both at Balmoral, her summer residence, and in Argyleshire, the birthplace of her British Son-in-law, by THE AUTHOR. ST. ANDREWS, 1875. PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1861. IN N submitting the following rhyme for public criticism, the author does so with due diffidence, and a deep sense of its many shortcomings; however, in palliation, he has simply to urge the plea of love for "auld" Scotland, and a wish to attempt to commemorate one of her noblest displays of nationality, one of which any nation might justly have been proud, and a reflection on the Times for its want of good feeling in taking so little notice of the "Great Scottish Volunteer Review before Her Majesty in 1860," on which occasion about 30,000 Volunteers, in uniform, assembled from all parts of Scotland, to be reviewed in the Queen's Park at Edinburgh; while the similar national gathering of England, held a short time before, in Hyde Park, London, did not number more than 20,000. It was indeed highly flattering that Scotland, with its comparatively small population, not only vied with, but exceeded in numbers, the national gathering of the South. This is not written with the view of raising up a single acrimonious feeling, or to encourage that penchant for egotism and over-susceptibility which Scotchmen to a certain extent get the credit of; but just to form one pebble in the breakwater which is opposed to the undercurrent which sometimes flows, of attempting to undermine Scotland, and ignore her nationality. No doubt some lame excuse was given for its silence,1 which, whether true or not, 1 It was very noticeable, and commented on at the time, why the leading paper of the British press took so little notice of this really noble review, alleging, in excuse, want of the news packet not being received soon enough--unlikely on such an occasion. does not affect the general truth of these remarks. Another portion of the rhyme is also worthy of remark, viz., the allusion to Lord Palmerston, and the Conspiracy Bill; there can be no doubt but it was a base sop to please a despot, and against all true British feeling-nay, it was altogether foreign to the spirit of the nation; but it met with the odium it so richly deserved, and the boasted invasion of Britain by Louis Napoleon's colonels, ended, like his uncle's, in mere bravado. The main feature of the poem is to show that a nation like Britain, truly imbued with the genuine spirit of religious and political freedom, cannot be conquered or destroyed by despotism or tyranny, if it remains true to itself; as it is a leading attribute of the Almighty, and all His designs, that freedom shall triumph over tyranny, as light over darkness. The rhyme commences with the question,-What has caused the late arming of the nations of Europe? Britain especially and traces that cause to the uncertain character of the present Emperor of France.1 The general scope of the poem naturally leads away from the Review in some points, as the spokes of a wheel diverge from the centre, but meet again, as it were encircled by the rim. The author has said thus much to lighten the pressure of the iron mace of criticism as to its merits, or rigid adherence to the Review. It was not written till after the anniversary of the Gathering; and he only wishes it had been done by a much abler pen. But though he strikes a feeble lyre, ST. ANDREWS, September 1861. This was written when Louis Napoleon lived, and in the zenith of his power, before he was humbled and ruined by the victorious arms of Prussia. A MEMENTO. "Stir the bale-fire, wave the banner, I. WHAT! has a meteor gleamed on high? And flashed, like light'ning through the sky, Quick followed by that thunder roar, The Continent hath heard before; What was it? Europe scarce could tell, To mingle in the deep turmoil; 1 The Death's-Head hawk moth (Acherontia Atropos) attacks beehives, ravages the honey, and disperses the inhabitants.--Maunders' Treasury of Natural History. |