“ Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,

Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays."

afton Water.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream-
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds through the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear-
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

afton Water. .

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills ;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Vary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There, oft as mild evening weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream-
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream!

The Braes O' Balloch myle.

TUNE—“ Braes o Ballochmyle."

The Catrine woods were yellow seen.

The flowers decay'd on Catrine lea, Nae laverock sang on hillock green,

But nature sickend on the ee. Through faded groves Maria sang,

Hersel in beauty's bloom the while, And aye the wild-wood echoes rang,

Fareweel the Braes o' Ballochmyle!

Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,

Again ye'll Aourish fresh and fair ; Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers,

Again ye 'll charm the vocal air: But here, alas! for me nae mair

Shall birdie charm or floweret smile: Fareweel the bonny banks of Ayr,

Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Ballochmyle!

The Lass O' Balloch myle.

TUNE—“Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banf.”

'Twas even the dewy fields were green,

On every blade the pearls hang, The zephyrs wanton d round the bean,

And bore its fragrant sweets alang : In every glen the mavis sang,

All nature listening seem'd the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang

Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.

With careless step I onward stray'd,

My heart rejoiced in Nature's joy, When musing in a lonely glade,

A maiden fair I chanced to spy ; Her look was like the morning's eye,

Her air like Nature's vernal smile: Perfection whisper'd, passing by,

Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!

The Lass O' Ballochmyle.

Fair is the morn in flowery May,

And sweet is night in autumn mild ; When roving through the garden gay,

Or wandering in the lonely wild: But woman, Nature's darling child !

There all her charms she does compile; Even there her other works are foil'd

By the bonny lass o’ Ballochmyle.

Oh! had she been a country maid,

And I the happy country swain, Though shelter'd in the lowest shed

That ever rose on Scotland's plain : Through weary winter's wind and rain,

With joy, with rapture, I would toil; And nightly to my bosom strain

The bonny lass o' Ballochmyle!

Then pride might climb the slippery steep,

Where fame and honours lofty shine; And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,

Or downward seek the Indian mine; Give me the cot below the pine,

To tend the flocks, or till the soil, And every day have joys divine

With the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle.