situation in the Stamp Office,--one which at once afforded him a certain
subsistence, and did not necessarily preclude the exercise of his
literary talents. But a constitutional weakness of the nervous system
did not permit of his long enjoying the smiles of fortune. He died
suddenly at Janefield, near Leith, on the 15th August 1835, in his
thirtieth year. In October 1831, he had espoused Mrs Mary Hill, a widow,
eldest daughter of Mr William Pagan, of Curriestanes, and niece of Allan
Cunningham, who, with one of their two sons, still survives. Allan was a
man of singularly gentle and amiable dispositions, a pleasant companion,
and devoted friend. In person he was tall and rather thin, with a
handsome, intelligent countenance. An enthusiast in the concerns of
literature, it is to be feared that he cut short his career by
overstrained application. His verses are animated and vigorous, and are
largely imbued with the national spirit.[20]

FOOTNOTES:

[20] We are indebted to William Pagan, Esq. of Clayton, author of "Road
Reform," for much of the information contained in this memoir. Mr Pagan
kindly procured for our use the whole of Mr Allan's papers and MSS.

IS YOUR WAR-PIPE ASLEEP?[21]

Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever, M'Crimman?
Is your war-pipe asleep, and for ever?
Shall the pibroch, that welcom'd the foe to Benaer,
Be hush'd when we seek the dark wolf in his lair,
To give back our wrongs to the giver?
To the raid and the onslaught our chieftains have gone,
Like the course of the fire-flaught the clansmen pass'd on,
With the lance and the shield 'gainst the foe they have boon'd them,
And have ta'en to the field with their vassals around them;
Then raise your wild slogan-cry--on to the foray!
Sons of the heather-hill, pinewood, and glen,
Shout for M'Pherson, M'Leod, and the Moray,
Till the Lomonds re-echo the challenge again!

II.--(M'CRIMMAN.)

Youth of the daring heart! bright be thy doom
As the bodings which light up thy bold spirit now,
But the fate of M'Crimman is closing in gloom,
And the breath of the gray wraith hath pass'd o'er his brow;
Victorious, in joy, thou'lt return to Benaer,
And be clasp'd to the hearts of thy best beloved there,
But M'Crimman, M'Crimman, M'Crimman, never--
Never! Never! Never!

III.--(CLANSMEN.)

Wilt thou shrink from the doom thou canst shun not, M'Crim