I have strong national
partialities--call them if you will national prejudices. I cherish a
great love of old Scottish language. Some of our pure Scottish ballad
poetry is unsurpassed in any language for grace and pathos. How
expressive, how beautiful are its phrases! You can't translate them.
Take an example of power in a Scottish expression, to describe with
tenderness and feeling what is in human life. Take one of our most
familiar phrases; as thus:--We meet an old friend, we talk over bygone
days, and remember many who were dear to us both, once bright, and
young, and gay, of whom some remain, honoured, prosperous, and happy--of
whom some are under a cloud of misfortune or disgrace--some are broken
in health and spirits--some sunk into the grave; we recall old familiar
places--old companions, pleasures, and pursuits; as Scotchmen our
hearts are touched with these remembrances of
AULD LANG SYNE.
Match me the phrase in English. You can't translate it. The fitness and
the beauty lie in the felicity of the language. Like many happy
expressions, it is not transferable into another tongue, just like the
"simplex munditiis" of Horace, which describes the natural grace of
female elegance, or the [Greek: achaexithmon gelasma] of AEschylus, which
describes the bright sparkling of the ocean in the sun.
I think the power of Scottish dialect was happily exemplified by the
late Dr.
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