UNKNOWN. BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL. HIE upon Hielands, And gallant rade he; Out came his auld mither And out came his bonnie bride Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toom hame came the saddle, "My meadow lies green, And my corn is unshorn; My barn is to build, And my babie 's unborn." Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toom hame came the saddle, But never came he! UNKNOWN. WALY, WALY, BUT LOVE BE BONNY. O, WALY, waly up the bank, And waly, waly down the brae, And waly, waly yon burnside, Where I and my love wont to gae. I leaned my back unto an aik, And thought it was a trusty tree, But first it bowed, and syne it brak', Sae my true love did lightly me. O, waly, waly, but love is bonny, A little time while it is new; And fades away like morning dew. And says he'll never love me mair. Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed, The sheets shall ne'er be filled by me; UNKNOWN. Saint Anton's well shall be my drink, Since my true love 's forsaken me, Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle death! when wilt thou come? For of my life I am weary. 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blowing snow's inclemency; "T is not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my love's heart grown cauld to me. When we came in by Glasgow town, We were a comely sight to see; My love was clad in the black velvet, And I mysel' in cramasie. 77 UNKNOWN. THE BOATIE ROWS. O, WEEL may the boatie row, I coost my line in Largo Bay, The boatie rows indeed, O, weel may the boatie row, That fills a heavy creel, And buys our parritch meal. That wish the boatie speed. When Jamie vowed he wad be inine, He swore we'd never part. The boatie rows fu' weel; black e'e, The next line that he read, the tear blindit his e'e; But the last line that he read, he gart the table flee. "Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown; Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er rade frae a town": But lang ere the horse was drawn and brought to the green, O, bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lane. When he came to Glenfeldy's door, little mirth was there; Bonnie Jean's mother was tearing her hair. "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye 're welcome," said she, "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see. "Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for Pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie me!" gaed ben, But red and rosy grew she, whene'er he sat down; She turned awa' her head, but the smile was in her e'e, "O, binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee." RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. Sae haud your tongue an' say nae mair, "Me haud my tongue for you, Guidwife! I'll be maister o' this house, I saw it as plain as een could see, "If you're the maister o' the house, "Weel, weel, Guidwife, gae mak the brose, While John sat toastin' his taes. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHER IDAN. [1751-1816.] HAD I A HEART FOR FALSEHOOD HAD I a heart for falsehood framed, To you no soul shall bear deceit, Your charms would make me true: No stranger offer wrong; But friends in all the aged you 'll meet, For when they learn that you have blest THOMAS CHATTERTON. [1752-1770.] THE MINSTREL'S SONG IN ELLA. O, SING unto my roundelay! O, drop the briny tear with me! Dance no more at holiday, Like a running river be. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. Black his hair as the winter night, White his neck as the summer snow, Gone to his death-bed, Sweet his tongue as throstle's note, Gone to his death-bed, Hark! the raven flaps his wing In the briered dell below; Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing To the nightmares as they go. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. See the white moon shines on high; Gone to his death-bed, Here, upon my true-love's grave, All the sorrows of a maid. Gone to his death-bed, All under the willow-tree. With my hands I'll bind the briers Gone to his death-bed, Come with acorn cup and thorn, Gone to his death-bed, GEORGE CRABBE. [1754-1832.] ISAAC ASHFORD. NEXT to these ladies, but in naught allied, A noble peasant, Isaac Ashford, died. Noble he was, contemning all things mean, His truth unquestioned and his soul serene: Of no man's presence Isaac felt afraid; At no man's question Isaac looked dismayed: Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace; Truth, simple truth, was written in his face; Yet while the serious thought his soul approved, Cheerful he seemed, and gentleness he loved; To bliss domestic he his heart resigned, And with the firmest, had the fondest mind. Were others joyful, he looked smiling on, And gave allowance where he needed none; Good he refused with future ill to buy, Nor knew a joy that caused reflection's sigh. A friend to virtue, his unclouded breast No envy stung, no jealousy distressed (Bane of the poor! it wounds their weaker mind To miss one favor which their neighbors find); Yet far was he from stoic pride removed; He felt humanely, and he warmly loved. I marked his action when his infant died, And his old neighbor for offence was tried; The still tears, stealing down that furrowed cheek, Spoke pity plainer than the tongue can speak. If pride were his, 't was not their vulgar pride Who, in their base contempt, the great deride; |