p>Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. V, No. XXV, June, 1852
ADVERTISEMENT
Harper's New Monthly Magazine closes its Fifth Semi-annual Volume with a circulation of more than One Hundred Thousand copies. The Publishers have spared neither labor nor expense to render it the most attractive Magazine of General Literature ever offered to the public; and they confidently present this Volume as evidence that their efforts to add to the value and interest of the work have kept pace with the increase of its circulation.
Special arrangements have been made, and will continue to be made, to render the next Volume still more worthy of public favor than its predecessor has been. The abundant facilities at the command of the Publishers insure an unlimited field for the choice and selection of material, while the ample space within the pages of the Magazine enables the Editors to present matter suited to every variety of taste and mood of the reading community. The Pictorial Illustrations will maintain the attractive and varied character by which they have been heretofore distinguished, while their number will be still farther increased.
In the general conduct and scope of the Magazine no change is contemplated. Each Number will contain as hitherto:
First.– Original Articles by popular American authors, illustrated, whenever the subject demands, by wood-cuts executed in the best style of the art.
Second.– Selections from the current literature of the day, whether in the form of articles from foreign periodicals or extracts from new books of special interest. This department will include such serial tales by the leading authors of the time, as may be deemed of peculiar interest; but these will not be suffered to interfere with a due degree of variety in the contents of the Magazine.
Third.– A Monthly Record, presenting an impartial condensed and classified history of the current events of the times.
Fourth.– An Editor's Table, devoted to the careful and elaborate discussion of the higher questions of principles and ethics.
Fifth.– An Editor's Easy Chair and Drawer, containing literary and general gossip, the chat of town and country, anecdotes and reminiscences, wit and humor, sentiment and pathos, and whatever, in general, belongs to an agreeable and entertaining miscellany.
Sixth.– Critical Notices of all the leading books of the day. These will present a fair and candid estimate of the character and value of the works continually brought before the public.
Seventh.– Literary Intelligence, concerning books, authors, art, and whatever is of special interest to cultivated readers.
Eighth.– Pictorial Comicalities, in which wit and humor will be addressed to the eye; and affectations, follies, and vice, chastised and corrected. The most scrupulous care will be exercised that in this department humor shall not pass into vulgarity, or satire degenerate into abuse.
Ninth.– The Fashions appropriate for the season, with notices of whatever novelties in material or design may make their appearance.
The Publishers here renew the expression of their thanks to the Press and the Public in general, for the favor which has been accorded to the New Monthly Magazine, and solicit such continuance of that favor as the merits of the successive Numbers may deserve.
AULD ROBIN GRAY
When the sheep are in the fauld, when the cows come hame,
When a' the weary warld to quiet rest are gane;
The woes of my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,
Unken'd by my gudeman, who soundly sleeps by me.
Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and sought me for his bride;
But saving ae crown piece, he'd naething else beside,
To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea;
And the crown and the pound, O they were baith for me!
Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day,
My father brak his arm, our cow was stown away;
My mother she fell sick – my Jamie was at sea —
And Auld Robin Gray, oh! he came a-courting me.
My father cou'dna work – my mother cou'dna spin;
I toil'd day and night, but their bread I cou'dna win;
Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and, wi' tears in his ee,
Said, "Jenny, oh! for their sakes, will you marry me?"
My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back;
But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack:
His ship it was a wrack! Why didna Jamie dee?
Or, wherefore am I spar'd to cry out, Woe is me!
My father argued sair – my mother didna speak,
But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break;
They gied him my hand, but my heart was in the sea;
And so Auld Robin Gray, he was gudeman to me.
I hadna been his wife, a week but only four,
When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door,
I saw my Jamie's ghaist – I cou'dna think it he,
Till he said, "I'm come hame, my love, to marry thee!"
O sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a';
Ae kiss we took, nae mair – I bad him gang awa.
I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee;
For O, I am but young to cry out, Woe is me!
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin,
I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin.
But I will do my best a gude wife aye to be,
For Auld Robin Gray, oh! he is sae kind to me,
The wintry days grew lang, my tears they were a' spent;
May be it was despair I fancied was content.
They said my cheek was wan; I cou'dna look to see —
For, oh! the wee bit glass, my Jamie gaed it me.
My father he was sad, my mother dull and wae;
But that which griev'd me maist, it was Auld Robin Gray;
Though ne'er a word he said, his cheek said mair than a',
It wasted like a brae o'er which the torrents fa'.
He gaed into his bed – nae physic wad he take;
And oft he moan'd and said, "It's better for her sake."
At length he look'd upon me, and call'd me his "ain dear,"
And beckon'd round the neighbors, as if his hour drew near.
"I've wrong'd her sair," he said, "but ken't the truth o'er late;
It's grief for that alone that hastens now my date;
But a' is for the best, since death will shortly free
A young and faithful heart that was ill matched wi' me.
"I loo'd, and sought to win her for mony a lang day;
I had her parents' favor, but still she said me nay;
I knew na Jamie's luve; and oh! it's sair to tell —
To force her to be mine, I steal'd her cow mysel!
"O what cared I for Crummie! I thought of naught but thee,
I thought it was the cow stood 'twixt my luve and me.
While she maintain'd ye a' was you not heard to say,
That you would never marry