MARY'S DREAM. JOHN LOWE. Died 1798. The moon had climb'd the highest hill Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea; She from her pillow gently rais'd Her head, to ask who there might be; It lies beneath a stormy sea; Three stormy nights and stormy days VOL. II. O maiden dear, thyself prepare, We soon shall meet upon that shore "Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!" [John Lowe was the son of a gardener at Kenmure Castle in Galloway; bred up for the church, he was employed as a tutor in a gentleman's family in the same part of the country, Macghie, of Airds, on the River Dee, where he fell in love with one of that gentleman's daughters, whose sister about the same time lost her lover, a Mr. Alexander Miller at sea, which gave occasion to Lowe's writing the above pathetic verses. The song originally commenced thus: Pale Cynthia just had reached the hill, which some person very judiciously altered as it now stands.] STREPHON AND LYDIA. WILLIAM WALLACE. All lonely on the sultry beach No hand the cordial draught to reach, Far distant from the mournful scene Thy parents sit at ease, Thy Lydia rifles all the plain, And all the spring, to please. Thou fall'st, alas! thyself, thy kind, ["The following I had from Dr. Blacklock. The Strephon and Lydia mentioned in the song, were perhaps the loveliest couple of their time. The gentleman was commonly known by the name of Beau Gibson. The lady was the gentle Jean mentioned somewhere in Hamilton of Bangour's Poems. Having frequently met at public places, they had formed a reciprocal attachment, which their friends thought dangerous, as their resources were by no means adequate to their tastes and habits of life. To elude the bad consequences of such a connexion, Strephon was sent abroad with a commission, and perished in Admiral Vernon's expedition to Carthagena. The author of the song was William Wallace, Esq. of Cairnhill in Ayrshire."-BURNS.] THE BOATIE ROWS. MR. EWEN OF ABERDEEN. O weel may the boatie row, And better may she speed! That wins the bairns' bread. That wishes her to speed. I cuist my line in Largo bay, And happy be the lot of a' Who wishes her to speed. O weel may the boatie row And cleads us a' frae head to feet, The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot of a' That wish the boatie speed. When Jamie vow'd he would be mine My kurch I put upon my head, And lightsome be the lassie's care That yields an honest heart. When Sawney, Jock, and Janetie, They'll help to gar the boatie row, The boatie rows, the boatie rows, And lightsome be her heart that bears And when wi' age we're worn down She wins the bairns' bread, And happy be the lot of a' That wish the boat to speed. ["The Boatie Rows,' is a charming display of womanly affection mingling with the concerns and occupations of life."-Burns.] RED GLEAMS THE SUN DR. ROBERT COUPER. Red gleams the sun on yon hill tap, The dew sits on the gowan; Deep murmurs thro' her glens the Spey, Around Kinrara rowan. Where art thou, fairest, kindest lass? Alas! wert thou but near me, Thy gentle soul, thy melting e'e Would ever, ever cheer me. |