Macintyre acted latterly as a constable of the City Guard of Edinburgh, a situation procured him by the Earl of Breadalbane, at his own special request; that benevolent nobleman having inquired of the bard what he could do for him to render him independent in his now advanced years. His salary as a peace-officer was sixpence a-day; but the poet was so abundantly satisfied with the attainment of his position and endowments, that he gave expression to his feelings of satisfaction in a piece of minstrelsy, which in the original ranks among his best productions. Of this ode we are enabled to present a faithful metrical translation, quite in the spirit of the original, as far as conversion of the Gaelic into the Scottish idiom is practicable. The version was kindly undertaken at our request by Mr William Sinclair, the ingenious author of "Poems of the Fancy and the Affections," who has appropriately adapted it to the lively tune, "Alister M'Alister." The song, remarks Mr Sinclair, is much in the spirit, though in a more humorous strain, of the famous Sword Song, beginning in the translation, "Come forth, my glittering Bride," composed by Theodore Körner of Dresden, and the last and most remarkable of his patriotic productions, wherein the soldier addresses his sword as his bride, thereby giving expression to the most glowing sentiments of patriotism. Macintyre addresses as his wife the musket which he carried as an officer of the guard; and is certainly as enthusiastic in praise of his new acquisition, as ever was love-sick swain in eulogy of the most attractive fair one. Oh! mony a turn of woe and weal May happen to a Highlan' man; Though he fall in love he soon may feel He cannot get the fancied one; The first I loved in time that 's past, I courted twenty years, ochone! But she forsook me at the last, And Duncan then was left alone. To Edinbro' I forthwith hied To seek a sweetheart to my mind, An', if I could, to find a bride For the fause love I left behind; Said Captain Campbell of the Guard, "I ken a widow secretly, An' I 'll try, as she 's no that ill faur'd, To put her, Duncan, in your way." As was his wont, I trow, did he Fulfil his welcome promise true, He gave the widow unto me, And all her portion with her too; And whosoe'er may ask her name, And her surname also may desire, They call her Janet[125]--great her fame-- An' 'twas George who was her grandsire. She 's quiet, an' affable, an' free, No vexing gloom or look at hand, As high in rank and in degree As any lady in the land; She 's my support and my relief, Since e'er she join'd me, any how; Great is the cureless cause of grief To him who has not got her now!