The Farewell. 91 But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, THE FAREWELL TO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES'S LODGE, TARBOLTON. ADIEU! a heart-warm fond adieu ! Oft have I met your social band, Which none but craftsmen ever saw! May freedom, harmony, and love The glorious Architect divine! And you, farewell! whose merits claim, One round-I ask it with a tear To him, the Bard that's far awa'. THE LASS OF BALLOCHMYLE. TUNE-"Miss Forbes's farewell to Banff," or "Johnnie's gray breeks." 'Twas even-the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang, The zephyr wanton'd round the bean, An' bore its fragrant sweets alang: In every glen the mavis sang, All nature list'ning seem'd the while, The Lass o' Ballochmyle. Except where greenwood echoes rang, With careless step I onward stray'd, A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy: Fair is the morn in flow'ry May, Oh, had she been a country maid, And I the happy country swain, Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed That ever rose on Scotland's plain, Thro' weary winter's wind and rain, With joy, with rapture, I would toil; And nightly to my bosom strain The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle! 93 Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep To tend the flocks or till the soil, And every day have joys divine With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle. THEIR GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE. TUNE-"Humours of Glen." THEIR groves O'sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom. Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys, What are they?—the haunt of the tyrant and slave! 'Twas na her bonnie blue e'e was my ruin. 95 The slave's spicy forests and gold-bubbling fountains "TWAS NA HER BONNIE BLUE E'E WAS MY RUIN. TUNE-"Laddie, lie near me." ["For this beautiful song we are indebted to Jean Lorimer. It is true that Mary is wrought into the texture of the verse; but copies have been seen with the first line of the last verse running thus:-'Jeanie, I'm thine,' &c."-Cunningham.] "Twas na her bonnie blue e'e was my ruin; Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing; 'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us, 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness. Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me, Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, |