A book of Highland minstrelsy . r. It was generally considered to have aninfluence quite destructive of evil spells; and the fairies, when engaged intheir predatory excursions, w^ere often baffled by the intervention of astream. The Tahusk was the spirit-voice heard before a death. Sometimes itwas like a human voice, but more frequently it Avould seem to comefrom the wild birds, whose mournfully piercing notes rung at eveningover the mountains. From whatever quarter, however, it arose, therewas always something unearthly in the tones by which the warning ofdeath could be distinguished. The cor
A book of Highland minstrelsy . r. It was generally considered to have aninfluence quite destructive of evil spells; and the fairies, when engaged intheir predatory excursions, w^ere often baffled by the intervention of astream. The Tahusk was the spirit-voice heard before a death. Sometimes itwas like a human voice, but more frequently it Avould seem to comefrom the wild birds, whose mournfully piercing notes rung at eveningover the mountains. From whatever quarter, however, it arose, therewas always something unearthly in the tones by which the warning ofdeath could be distinguished. The corncraik was one of those birdswhose cry was particularly ominous. The Brig of Tay, built by Marshal Wade on the great military roadconstructed after Earl Mars insurrection in 1715, is a massive and ancientlooking structure — older, indeed, in appearance than it is in reality. Itspans the river at a wide reach near the town of Aberfeldy, and formsone of the most picturesque objects in the rich and luxuriantly woodedVale of THE PARTING ON THE BRIG. Oh ! Hamish, lover of my youth and husband of my vows,When shall I loose the maiden snood from these betrothed brows ?When will you clasp your mournful bride, whose hopes in absence wane ?For they who parted on a brig maun never meet again ! It was upon the Brig of Tay ye took the bountith fee, It was upon the Brig of Tay ye looked your last on me; A year hath dragged its heavy course since that ill-omened night. But heavier weigh upon my soul the bodings of a fight. 96 Ci)t ^Parting on t!)f 53ng. The shearing in onr harvest-field sped busily that day, When ye were sent with horse and cart down to the Brig of Tay ; There sold ye birthright liberty for less than Esaus hire, Nor thought of Elsie Robertson, your minnie, or your sire. Your tongue was slow to tell the tale that saddened your return, Ye came not to our trysting-tree that grows beside the burn ; In silence ye departed from the home where ye were bred, And streaming wer
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