Loud the din o' streams fast fa'ing, Strack the ear wi' thundering thud. Ewes and lambs on braes ran bleating; Roslin's towers and braes sae bonny, Craigs and water, woods and glen, Roslin's banks unpeer'd by ony, Save the muse's Hawthornden. Ilka sound and charm delighting; Will (though hardly fit to gang) Wander'd on through scenes inviting, List'ning to the mavis' sang. Faint at length, the day fast closing, On a fragrant strawberry steep, Esk's sweet stream to rest composing, Wearied nature drapt asleep. "Soldier, rise! the dews o' e'ening Gathering fa' wi' deadly skaith! Wounded soldier! if complaining, Sleep nae here and catch your death. "Traveller, waken!-night advancing Cleads wi' gray the neeboring hill; Lambs nae mair on knowes are dancingA' the woods are mute and still." "What hae I," cried Willie, waking, "House, nor hame, nor farm, nor stedding! "Sair, alas! and sad and many Are the ills poor mortals share! "What's this life, sae wae and wearie, If hope's bright'ning beams should fail? See! though night comes, dark and eerie, Yon sma' cot-light cheers the dale! "There, though walth and waste ne'er riot, Humbler joys their comfort shed, Labour-health-content and quietMourner! there ye'll find a bed! "Wife, 'tis true, wi' bairnies smiling, There, alas! ye need nae seck After three lang years' affliction Clasps her Willie to her breast; Tells him a' her sad, sad sufferings! Wi' three bairns frae door to door! How she sewed, and toiled, and fevered, Lost her health, and syne her bread; How that grief, when scarce recovered, Took her brain, and turned her head. How she wandered round the county Mony a live-lang night her lane; Till at last an angel's bounty Brought her senses back again! Gae her meat, and claise, and siller; Wi' four sterling pounds a year. "Wha," quo Jeanie, but Buccleuch? Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloamin'? Sought she the burnie whar flow'rs the hawtree? Her hair it is lint-white; her skin it is milk-white; "I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing, Nor saw I your true love, down on yon lea; But I met my bonnie thing, late in the gloamin', Down by the burnie whar flow'rs the haw-tree. Her hair it was lint-white; her skin it was milkwhite; Dark was the blue o' her saft rolling e'e; Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses: Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me!" "It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing, "It was then your Mary; she's frae Castlecary; It was then your true love I met by the tree; Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature, Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me.' Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew; Wild flashed the fire frae his red-rolling e'e"Ye's rue sair, this morning, your boasts and your scorning; Defend, ye fause traitor! fu' loudly ye lie." "Awa' wi' beguiling," cried the youth smiling;Aff went the bonnet; the lint-white locks flee; The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing: Fair stood the lov'd maid wi' the dark rolling e'e. "Is it my wee thing? is it my ain thing? Is it my true love here that I see?" "Oh,Jamie, forgi'e me!your heart's constant to me; I'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee!" MY BOY TAMMY. "Whar hae ye been a' day, My boy Tammy? "I've been by burn and flow'ry brae, "What said ye to the bonnie bairn, "I praised her een, sae lovely blue, "I held her to my beating heart, 'My young, my smiling lammie! "The smile gaed aff her bonnie face 'I maunna leave my mammy; She's gi'en me meat, she's gi'en me claise, She's been my comfort a' my days; My father's death brought mony waesI canna leave my mammy." "We'll tak her hame, and mak her fain, My ain kind-hearted lammie; We'll gi'e her meat, we'll gi'e her claise, We'll be her comfort a' her days." The wee thing gi'es her hand and says"There! gang and ask my mammy." "Has she been to the kirk wi' thee, "She has been to the kirk wi' me, DONALD AND FLORA. Sadd'ning to Mora;1 "Loud howls the stormy west, Cold, cold is winter's blast; 1 A retreat so named by the lovers. Haste, then, O Donald, haste, Haste to thy Flora! Twice twelve long months are o'er, But meet me in Mora. "Where now is Donald dear?' To his loved Flora?', "Come, then, O come away! From his loved Flora? "Never, ah! wretched fair!" Meet his loved Flora! "Well fought our gallant men Thrice fled the hostile train From British glory. But, ah! though our foes did flee, Youth, love, and loyalty Fell far from Mora. "Here, take this love-wrought plaid;' I LOVED NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE. I lo'ed ne'er a laddie but ane, He lo'ed ne'er a lassie but me; He's willing to mak' me his ain, And his ain I am willing to be. He has coft me a rokelay o' blue, And a pair o' mittens o' green; The price was a kiss o' my mou', And I paid him the debt yestreen. Let ithers brag weel o' their gear, Their land and their lordly degree; I carena for aught but my dear, For he's ilka thing lordly to me: His words are sae sugar'd and sweet; His sense drives ilk fear far awa'! I listen, poor fool! and I greet; Yet O how sweet are the tears as they fa! "Dear lassie," he cries, wi' a jeer, "Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say; Though we've little to brag o', ne'er fear What's gowd to a heart that is wae? Our laird has baith honours and wealth, Yet see how he's dwining wi' care; Now we, though we've naething but health, Are cantie and leal evermair. "O Marion! the heart that is true Has something mair costly than gear! Ilk e'en it has naething to rue, Ilk morn it has naething to fear. And tremble for fear ought ye tyne; Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door, While here in my arms I lock mine!" He ends wi' a kiss and a smile- He's free aye to daut and to kiss! Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife, Play your pranks-I hae gi'en my consent, And this nicht I'm Jamie's for life! COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE. "Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa'; Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw; Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, There's room in't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa. Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, I'll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw: Oh, come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me! There's room in't, dear lassic, believe me, for twa.” "Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, auld Donald, ga'e 'wa, I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw; Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, I'll no sit beside ye; Ye may be my gutcher;-auld Donald, gae 'wa. I'm gaun to meet Johnnie, he's young and he's bonnie; He's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trig and fu' braw; Oh, nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly! His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw." "Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa'; Your Jock's but a gowk, and has naething ava; The hale o' his pack he has now on his back— He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa. Be frank now and kindly; I'll busk ye aye finely; To kirk or to market they'll few gang sae braw; A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in, And flunkies to 'tend ye as aft as ye ca'." "My father's aye tauld me, my mither and a', Ye'd mak a gude husband, and keep me aye braw; It's true I lo'e Johnnie, he's gude and he's bonnie; But, waes me! ye ken he has naething ava. I hae little tocher; you've made a gude offer; I'm now mair than twenty-my time is but sma'; Sae gie me your plaidie, I'll creep in beside ye— I thocht ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa." She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa', Whar Johnnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a'; The day was appointed, his proud heart it dunted, And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa. He wander'd hame weary, the night it was dreary; And, thowless, he tint his gate 'mang the deep snaw; The howlet was screamin' while Johnnie cried, "Women Wad marry Auld Nick if he'd keep them aye braw." THE PLAID AMANG THE HEATHER. The wind blew hie owre muir and lea, And dark and stormy grew the weather; The rain rain'd sair; nac shelter near But my love's plaid amang the heather. Close to his breast he held me fast; Sae cozie, warm we lay thegither; Nae simmer heat was half sae sweet As my love's plaid amang the heather! |