"NORTHUMBRIA'S SONS STAND FORTH, BY ALL CONFEST, Newcastle upon Tyne: Printed for John Bell, by M. Angus & Son, and sold by them, MDCCCXII, LINES' 918 8433 r SENT TO THE EDITOR AND PRINTER. Proceed, ye generous friends of Tyne, With heart and hand your friendship join, ** PREFACE. Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. POPE. "GIVE me the writing of all the Ballads, for the "people of England, and let who will be their law-giver," was said by a celebrated orator, in speaking on the manners of the people :-this cheering ray, in behalf of ballad writing, gave rise to the publication of the following pages: for how many of these simple, yet popular effusions, have been lost for want of a repository to give them a chance of living a day beyond the time they were written?-As such, the Summum Bonum of my labours is to rescue from the yawning jaws of oblivion the productions of the Bards of the Tyne; and by so doing, hand them down to future ages as Reliques of Provincial Poetry :-But, conscious of the liability of personal allusions in the generality of provincial poems, the words of the poet have been kept in mind : "Curs'd be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, Those who may have expected a matchless collection, and find it inferior to other poetical selections, will please to think of the following Italian proverb : "CHI LAVA LA TESTA AL ASINO PERDE IL SAPONE." VERSES ON NORTHUMBERLAND MINSTRELST. BY H. R. WITH taste so true, and genius fine, Sounding their melody divine, Thro' ev'ry grove. Northumbria's waters, woods, and plains, The Poets sung; Till echo, thro' her wide domains, Responsive rung. In witty songs and verses kittle*, Who could compare with THOMAS WHITTLE? The Cambo blade, who to a tittle, Describ'd each feature; At painting, too, he varied little From mother Nature. Her PIPERS also knew the art To touch the soul, and warm the heart; From ev'ry breast away would start, To pine elsewhere. When at the harvest, every year, They play'd, the reapers' hearts to chear; Made labour light; And many a merry jig, I swear, They danc'd each night. Lively. AIMORLIAD WEEL MAY THE KEEL ROW. AS I cam thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate, He wears a blue bonnet, blue bonnet, blue bonnet, And weel may the keel THE NEW KEEL ROW. By T. T.-To the old Tune. WHE's like my Johnny, A |