On the 21st June 1813 the lawyer and poet W E Aytoun was born.
Born in Edinburgh, of a family of literary tastes his father, Roger Aytoun,was writer to the Signet, a private society of Scottish solicitors, dating back to 1594 and part of the College of Justice, the fierce Jacobitism and love of ballads of his mother, Joan Keir Aytoun, had a lasting influence upon Aytoun’s own political and literary preferences., which was to impact upon Aytoun’s own interests, and aid them in turn when he was preparing his Ballads of Scotland collection for publication.
Having tentatively followed his father into law, Aytoun was appointed Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres at Edinburgh University in 1845. It was in this post that he excelled, and details of his lectures have led to him being declared ‘the first modern professor of English literature’. Prior to this appointment, his early works as a poet were the subject of inclusion in the renowned Blackwood’s Magazine, and he would go on to become an important contributor to the magazine in a number of guises. Indeed, his literary criticism exhibited much of the keen sense of parody that was the defining feature of his acclaimed dramatic verse, 'Firmilian’.
Working in a less comic mode, Aytoun produced the Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers, which remains one of his best known works, it wasn’t just Jacobitism in, Edinburgh After Flodden , a 15 verse classic, he brings the news to the Capital of our greatest defeat to the citizens of Edinburgh, in Charles Edward At Versailles, Aytoun puts himself into Bonnie Prince Charlie’s head as he is in his room on the Anniversary of Culloden thinking of the ghosts that haunt him…
“Must those scenes and sounds of terror Haunt me still by day and night?”
I’ve chosen, an extract from the telling of a hero killed at Killiecankie, The Burial-March of Dundee.
On the heights of Killiecrankie Yester-morn our army lay: Slowly rose the mist in columns From the river’s broken way; Hoarsely roared the swollen torrent, And the Pass was wrapped in gloom, When the clansmen rose together From their lair amidst the broom. Then we belted on our tartans, And our bonnets down we drew, And we felt our broadswords’ edges, And we proved them keen and true; And we prayed the prayer of soldiers, And we cried the gathering-cry, And we clasped the hands of kinsmen, And we swore to do or die! Then our leader rose before us On his war-horse black as night – Well the Cameronian rebels Knew that charger in the fight! – And a cry of exultation From the bearded warriors rose; For we loved the house of Claver’se, And we thought of good Montrose. But he raised his hand for silence – ‘Soldiers! I have sworn a vow : Ere the evening star shall glisten On Schehallion’s lofty brow, Either we shall rest in triumph, Or another of the Graemes Shall have died in battle-harness For his Country and King James! Think upon the Royal Martyr – Think of what his race endure – Think of him whom butchers murdered On the field of Magus Muir: – By his sacred blood I charge ye, By the ruined hearth and shrine – By the blighted hopes of Scotland, By your injuries and mine – Strike this day as if the anvil Lay beneath your blows the while, Be they covenanting traitors, Or the brood of false Argyle! Strike! And drive the trembling rebels Backwards o’er the stormy Forth; Let them tell their pale Convention How they fared within the North. Let them tell that Highland honour Is not to be bought nor sold, That we scorn their prince’s anger As we loathe his foreign gold. Strike! And when the fight is over, If ye look in vain for me, Where the dead are lying thickest, Search for him that was Dundee!’
The full poem can be read here...https://allpoetry.com/The-Burial-March-Of-Dundee
And more about him...https://allpoetry.com/William-Edmondstoune-Aytoun
