The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide,
The tapers glimmer'd fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight were there :
They sought her baith by bower and ha';
The ladye was not seen!
She's o'er the Border and awa
Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!
SIR WALTER SCOTT. From "Rokeby."
A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine;
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green,—
No more of me you knew, my love;
No more of me you knew.
This morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;
But it shall bloom in winter snow
Ere we two meet again.
He turn'd his charger as he spake
Upon the river shore;
He gave his bridle-reins a shake,
Said, Adieu for evermore, my love;
And adieu for evermore.
JAMES HOGG, the "Ettrick Shepherd," born Jan. 25, 1772, died Nov. 21, 1835.
Air-" Andro and his cutty gun."
ON Ettrick clear there grows a brier,
An' monie a bonnie bloomin' shaw
But Peggy's grown the fairest flower
The braes o' Ettrick ever saw.
Her cheek is like the woodland rose,
Her ee the violet set wi' dew;
The lily's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
Had I her hame at my wee house,
That stands aneath yon mountain high,
To help me wi' the kye an' ewes,
An' in my arms at e'ening lie;
Oh, sae blythe, an', oh, sae cheery,
Oh, sae happy we wad be!
The lammie to the ewe is dear,
But Peggy's dearer far to me.
JAMES HOGG. Air-"The blaithrie o't."
COME, all ye jolly shepherds
That whistle through the glen,
I'll tell ye of a secret
That courtiers dinna ken.
What is the greatest bliss
That the tongue o' man can name?
'Tis to woo a bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame.
When the kye come hame,
When the kye come hame;
"Tween the gloamin' and the mirk,
When the kye come hame.
"Tis not beneath the burgonet,
Nor yet beneath the crown,
'Tis not on couch of velvet,
Nor yet on bed of down;
"Tis beneath the spreading birch,
In the dell without a name,
Wi' a bonnie, bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame.
There the blackbird bigs his nest
For the mate he loves to see,
And up upon the tapmost bough,
Oh, a happy bird is he!
Then he pours his melting ditty,
And love 'tis a' the theme,
And he'll woo his bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame.
When the bluart bears a pearl,
And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonnie lucken gowan
Has fauldit up his ee.
Then the laverock frae the blue lift Draps down, and thinks nae shame To woo his bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame.
Then the eye shines sae bright,
The haill soul to beguile,
There's love in every whisper,
And joy in every smile.
Oh, who would choose a crown,
Wi' its perils and its fame,
And miss a bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame?
See yonder pawky shepherd
That lingers on the hill—
His yowes are in the fauld,
And his lambs are lying still;
Yet he downa gang to rest,
For his heart is in a flame
To meet his bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame,
Awa' wi' fame and fortune
What comfort can they gi'e?—
And a' the arts that prey
On man's life and libertie.
Gi'e me the highest joy
That the heart o' man can frame,
My bonnie, bonnie lassie,
When the kye come hame.
ROBERT TANNAHILL, born June 3, 1774, died May 17, 1810.
GLOOMY winter's now awa,
Saft the westling breezes blaw,
'Mang the birks of Stanley shaw
The mavis sings fu' cheery 0;
Sweet the crawflow'r's early bell
Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell,
Blooming like thy bonnie sel',
My young, my artless dearie O.
Come, my lassie, let us stray
O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae,
Blythely spend the gowden day
'Midst joys that never weary 0.
Tow'ring o'er the Newton woods,
Lav'rocks fan the snaw-white clouds,
Siller saughs with downy buds
Adorn the banks sae briery 0.
Round the sylvan fairy nooks
Feath'ry breckans fringe the rocks,
'Neath the brae the burnie jouks,
And ilka thing is cheery O.
Trees may bud and birds may sing,
Flow'rs may bloom and verdure spring,
Joy to me they canna bring,
Unless wi' thee, my dearie O.
|