The Modern Scottish Minstrel, Volume III | Page 6

Reformers of the respective
nations--Knox and Luther. Knox, ever stern, frowning on all the
amusements of the palace and the people, and indifferent to every
species of poetry; Luther, often drinking his mug of ale in a tavern,
making and singing his tunes and songs, and though frequently enough
tormented by devils, yet still ready to throw aside the cares of life for a
while, and enjoy himself in hearty intercourse with the various classes
of the people. Who would have expected the German Reformer to be
the author of the couplet--
"He who loves not women, wine, and song,
Will be a fool his whole
life long."
And yet he was. And his songs, sacred though most of them be, have a
place in German song-books to this day.
Though Scottish songs seldom refer to a Divine Being, yet they are
very far from being without their noble sentiments and inspirations. On
the contrary, they have frequently sustained the moral life of a man.
"Who dare measure in doubt," says William Thom in his
"Recollections," "the restraining influences of these very songs? To us,

they were all instead of sermons.... Poets were indeed our priests. But
for those, the last relict of our moral existence would have surely
passed away!"
Yet there is a marked contrast between the very aims of Scottish and
Greek song-writers. The Scottish wish merely to please, and
consequently never concern themselves with any of the deeper subjects
of this life or the life to come. There is seldom an allusion to death, or
to any of the great realities that sternly meet the gaze of a
contemplative man. There may be a few exceptions in the case of pious
song-writers, like Lady Nairn; but even such poets are shy of making
songs the vehicle of what is serious or profound. The Greeks, on the
other hand, regarding their poets as inspired, expected from them the
deepest wisdom, and in fact delighted in any verse which threw light on
the great mysteries of life and death. Thus it happens that the remains
of the Greek lyric poets, especially the later, such as Simonides and
Bacchylides, are principally of a deeply moral cast. The Greeks do not
seem to have had the extravagant rage which now prevails for merely
figurative language. They sought for truth itself, and the man became a
poet who clothed living truths in the most appropriate and expressive
words.
There is a remarkable contrast between the Scotch and Greeks in their
historical songs. The lyric muse sings at great epochs, because then the
deepest emotions of the human heart are roused. But since, in Greece,
the states were small, and every emotion thrilled through all the free
citizens, there was more of determined and unanimous feeling than
with us, and consequently a greater desire to see the heroic deeds of
themselves or their fellows wedded to verse. And then, too, the poet did
not live apart; he was one of the people, a soldier and a citizen as well
as others, and animated by exactly the same feelings, though with
greater rapture. This is the reason why the Greeks abounded in songs in
honour of their brave. At the time of the resistance to the Persian
invasion, there was no end to the encomiums and pæans. Almost every
individual hero was celebrated, and these songs were made by the
acknowledged masters of the lyre, such as Æschylus and Simonides.
With us, great deeds have to wait their poets. Distance of time must

first throw around them a poetic hue; and after the hero has sunk
unnoticed into a nameless grave, the bard showers his praises on him,
and his worth is universally recognised. Or if his merits are discerned
before his death, song is not one of the appointed organs through which
our people demand that he should be praised. If a heroic action gets its
poet, the people will listen; but if it pass unsung, none will regret it.
Besides, we do not discern the poetry of the present so strongly as the
Greeks did. Everything with them seems to have been capable of
finding its way into verse. Alcman delights in speaking of his porridge,
and Alcæus of the various implements of war which adorned his hall.
The real world in which the Greeks moved had the most powerful
attraction for them. This is also, in a great measure, true of the
unknown poets, who have contributed so much to Scottish minstrelsy
in the days of the later Stuarts. There is no squeamishness about the
introduction of realities, whatever they be; and the people took delight
in a mere series of names skilfully strung together, or even in an
enumeration of household articles or dishes.[3]
This pleasure in the contemplation of the actual