Volume Ii Part 130 (2/2)

For the summer grief had brought her, And the soldier false was he, On the banks of Allan Water, None so sad as she.

On the banks of Allan Water, When the winter snow fell fast, Still was seen the miller's daughter, Chilling blew the blast.

But the miller's lovely daughter, Both from cold and care was free; On the banks of Allan Water, There a corse lay she.

Matthew Gregory Lewis [1775-1818]

FORSAKEN

O waly waly up the bank, And waly waly down the brae, And waly waly yon burn-side Where I and my Love wont to gae!

I leaned my back unto an aik, I thought it was a trusty tree; But first it bowed, and syne it brak, Sae my true Love did lichtly me.

O waly waly, but love be bonny A little while when it is new; But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld And fades awa' like morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my head?

Or wherefore should I kame my hair?

For my true Love has me forsook, And says he'll never loe me mair.

Now Arthur-seat sall be my bed; The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me: Saint Anton's well sall be my drink, Since my true Love has forsaken me.

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw And shake the green leaves aff the tree?

O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?

For of my life I am wearie.

'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie; 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my Love's heart grown cauld to me.

When we cam in by Glasgow town We were a comely sight to see; My Love was clad in black velvet.

And I mysel in cramasie.

But had I wist, before I kissed, That love had been sae ill to win; I had locked my heart in a case of gowd And pinned it with a siller pin.

And, O! if my young babe were born, And sat upon the nurse's knee, And I mysel were dead and gane, And the green gra.s.s growing over me!

Unknown

BONNIE DOON

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fair!

How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its love; And sae did I o' mine.

<script>