Thomas Pringle was born on the 5th of January 1789 at Blaiklaw, in Teviotdale, a farm rented by his father, and of which his progenitors had been tenants for a succession of generations. By an accident in infancy, he suffered dislocation of one of his limbs, which rendered the use of crutches necessary for life. Attending the grammar school of Kelso for three years, he entered as a student the University of Edinburgh. From his youth he had devoted himself to extensive reading, and during his attendance at college he formed the resolution of adopting literature as a profession. In 1808 he accepted the appointment of copying-clerk in the General Register House, occupying his intervals of leisure in composition. He published, in 1811—in connexion with his ingenious friend, Robert Story, the present minister of Roseneath—a poem entitled, "The Institute," which obtained a considerable share of public favour. In 1816 he became a contributor to Campbell's "Albyn's Anthology;" and produced an excellent imitation of the poetical style of Sir Walter Scott for Hogg's "Poetic Mirror." Concurring with Hogg in a proposal to establish a new monthly periodical, in order to supersede the Scots' Magazine, which had much sunk in the literary scale, he united with him in submitting the scheme to Mr Blackwood, who was then becoming known as an enterprising publisher. By Mr Blackwood the proposal was well received; a periodical was originated under the title of the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine, and Pringle relinquished his post in the Register House to undertake the editorship. In April 1817 the first number of the magazine appeared, adorned with contributions from Wilson, Lockhart, the Shepherd, and others of literary reputation. An interesting article on "Gypsies" was Pringle's own contribution, the materials being kindly supplied to him by Sir Walter Scott. The occurrence of serious differences between the editor and publisher, however, soon menaced the continuance of a periodical which had commenced so prosperously; the result was, the withdrawal of Pringle from the concern, and an announcement in the September number that the magazine was discontinued. The discontinuance was merely nominal: a new series, under the title of Blackwood's Magazine, appeared in October, under the literary superintendence of Wilson; while, in the August preceding, Pringle had originated, under the publishing auspices of Mr Constable, The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany, as a new series of the Scots' Magazine. In the first number of Mr Blackwood's new series appeared the celebrated "Chaldee MS.," a humorous pasquinade, chiefly directed against Pringle and his literary friend Cleghorn, and which, on account of its evident personalities, was afterwards cancelled.
Besides conducting Constable's magazine, Pringle undertook the editorship of The Star, a bi-weekly newspaper; but he was led soon to renounce both these literary appointments. He now published the "Autumnal Excursion, and other Poems;" but finding, in spite of every effort, that he was unable to support himself by literature, he resumed, early in 1819, his humble situation in the Register House.
When his literary affairs were prosperous, Pringle had entered into the married state, but his present emoluments were wholly unequal to the comfortable maintenance of his family. He formed the resolution of emigrating to South Africa, then a favourite colony, and a number of his wife's relatives and his own consented to accompany him. In February 1820 he embarked for the Cape, along with his father and other relatives, in all numbering twenty-four persons. The emigrants landed on the 5th of June, and forthwith took possession of the territory assigned them by the home government, extending to 20,000 acres, situate in the upper part of the valley of Baaviars river, a tributary of the Great Fish river. In this place, which the colonists designated Glen-lynden, Pringle remained about two years, till his friends were comfortably settled. He thereafter proceeded to Cape Town, in quest of literary employment. He was appointed keeper of the Government library, with a salary of £75, and soon after found himself at the head of a flourishing educational establishment. He now established a periodical, which he designated the South African Commercial Advertiser, and became editor of a weekly newspaper, originated by an enterprising printer. But misfortune continued to attend his literary adventures: in consequence of certain interferences of the local government, he was compelled to abandon both his periodical and newspaper, while the opposition of the administrative officials led to his seminary being deserted. Leaving the colony for Britain, he arrived in London in July 1826; and failing to obtain from the home government a reparation of his losses in the colony, he was necessitated anew to seek a precarious subsistence from literature. An article which he had written on slavery, in the New Monthly Magazine, led to his appointment as secretary to the Anti-slavery Society. This situation, so admirably suited to his talents and predilections, he continued to hold till the office became unnecessary, by the legislative abolition of slavery on the 27th of June 1834. He now became desirous of returning to the Cape, but was meanwhile seized with a pulmonary affection, which proved fatal on the 5th December 1834, in his forty-sixth year. His remains were interred in Bunhill-field Cemetery, where a tombstone, with an inscription by his poetical friend William Kennedy, has been erected to his memory.
As a poet, Pringle is chiefly remarkable for elegance of versification, perspicuity of sentiment, and deep and generous feeling. A thorough patriot, some of his best songs on subjects connected with Scottish scenery were written on the plains of Africa. Beneficent in disposition, and conciliatory in private intercourse, he was especially uncompromising in the maintenance of his political opinions; and to this peculiarity may be traceable some of his earlier misfortunes. In person he was under the middle height; his countenance was open and benignant, with a well developed forehead. He was much influenced by sincere religious convictions. His poetical works, with a memoir by Mr Leitch Ritchie, have been published by Mr Moxon for the benefit of his widow.
FAREWELL TO BONNIE TEVIOTDALE.
Our native land—our native vale—
A long, a last adieu;
Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale,
And Cheviot's mountains blue!
Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
Ye streams renown'd in song;
Farewell, ye braes and blossom'd meads,
Our hearts have loved so long!
Farewell, the blithsome broomy knowes,
Where thyme and harebells grow;
Farewell, the hoary, haunted howes,
O'erhung with birk and sloe!
The mossy cave and mouldering tower,
That skirt our native dells;
The martyr's grave and lover's bower,
We bid a sad farewell!
Home of our love—our fathers' home—
Land of the brave and free—
The sail is flapping on the foam
That bears us far from thee!
We seek a wild and distant shore,
Beyond the western main;
We leave thee to return no more,
Nor view thy cliffs again!
Our native land—our native vale—
A long, a last adieu!
Farewell to bonnie Teviotdale,
And Scotland's mountains blue!
THE EXILE'S LAMENT.
By the lone Mankayana's margin gray
A Scottish maiden sung;
And mournfully pour'd her melting lay
In Teviot's border-tongue:
O bonnie grows the broom on Blaiklaw knowes,
And the birk in Clifton dale;
And green are the hills o' the milk-white ewes,
By the briery banks o' Cayle!
Here bright are the skies; and these valleys of bloom
May enchant the traveller's eye;
But all seems dress'd in death-like gloom,
To the exile who comes to die!
O bonnie grows the broom, &c.
Far round and round spreads the howling waste,
Where the wild beast roams at will;
And yawning cleughs, by woods embraced,
Where the savage lurks to kill!
O bonnie grows the broom, &c.
Full oft over Cheviot's uplands green
My dreaming fancy strays;
But I wake to weep 'mid the desolate scene
That scowls on my aching gaze!
O bonnie grows the broom, &c.
Oh light, light is poverty's lowliest state,
On Scotland's peaceful strand,
Compared with the heart-sick exile's fate,
In this wild and weary land!
O bonnie grows the broom, &c.
LOVE AND SOLITUDE.
I love the free ridge of the mountain,
When dawn lifts her fresh dewy eye;
I love the old ash by the fountain,
When noon's summer fervours are high:
And dearly I love when the gray-mantled gloaming
Adown the dim valley glides slowly along,
And finds me afar by the pine-forest roaming,
A-list'ning the close of the gray linnet's song.
When the moon from her fleecy cloud scatters
Over ocean her silvery light,
And the whisper of woodlands and waters
Comes soft through the silence of night—
I love by the ruin'd tower lonely to linger,
A-dreaming to fancy's wild witchery given,
And hear, as if swept by some seraph's pure finger,
The harp of the winds breathing accents of heaven.
Yet still, 'mid sweet fancies o'erflowing,
Oft bursts from my lone breast the sigh—
I yearn for the sympathies glowing,
When hearts to each other reply!
Come, friend of my bosom! with kindred devotion,
To worship with me by wild mountain and grove;
O come, my Eliza, with dearer emotion,
With rapture to hallow the chaste home of love!
COME AWA', COME AWA'.
Come awa', come awa',
An' o'er the march wi' me, lassie;
Leave your southren wooers a',
My winsome bride to be, lassie!
Lands nor gear I proffer you,
Nor gauds to busk ye fine, lassie;
But I 've a heart that 's leal and true,
And a' that heart is thine, lassie!
Come awa', come awa',
And see the kindly north, lassie,
Out o'er the peaks o' Lammerlair,
And by the Links o' Forth, lassie!
And when we tread the heather-bell,
Aboon Demayat lea, lassie,
You 'll view the land o' flood and fell,
The noble north countrie, lassie!
Come awa', come awa',
And leave your southland hame, lassie;
The kirk is near, the ring is here,
And I 'm your Donald GrÆme, lassie!
Rock and reel and spinning-wheel,
And English cottage trig, lassie;
Haste, leave them a', wi' me to speel
The braes 'yont Stirling brig, lassie!
Come awa', come awa',
I ken your heart is mine, lassie,
And true love shall make up for a'
For whilk ye might repine, lassie!
Your father he has gi'en consent,
Your step-dame looks na kind, lassie;
O that our feet were on the bent,
An' the lowlands far behind, lassie!
Come awa', come awa',
Ye 'll ne'er hae cause to rue, lassie;
My cot blinks blithe beneath the shaw,
By bonnie Avondhu, lassie!
There 's birk and slae on ilka brae,
And brackens waving fair, lassie,
And gleaming lochs and mountains gray—
Can aught wi' them compare, lassie?
Come awa', come awa', &c.
DEAREST LOVE, BELIEVE ME!
Dearest love, believe me,
Though all else depart,
Nought shall e'er deceive thee
In this faithful heart.
Beauty may be blighted—
Youth must pass away;
But the vows we plighted
Ne'er shall know decay.
Tempests may assail us
From affliction's coast,
Fortune's breeze may fail us
When we need it most;
Fairest hopes may perish,
Firmest friends may change,
But the love we cherish
Nothing shall estrange.
Dreams of fame and grandeur
End in bitter tears;
Love grows only fonder
With the lapse of years;
Time, and change, and trouble,
Weaker ties unbind,
But the bands redouble
True affection twined.
