To Beauty shy, by lattice high, The star of Love, all stars above, 432 433 THE ROVER A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, A doublet of the Lincoln green- No more of me you knew. 'This morn is merry June, I trow, But she shall bloom in winter snow He turn'd his charger as he spake He gave the bridle-reins a shake, And adieu for evermore.' THE MAID OF NEIDPATH O LOVERS' eyes are sharp to see, Can lend an hour of cheering. And slow decay from mourning, ''. Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower All sunk and dim her eyes so bright, By fits a sultry hectic hue Across her cheek was flying; By fits so ashy pale she grew Yet keenest powers to see and hear He came he pass'd-an heedless gaze 434 GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Pibroch of Donuil Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and Leave untended the herd, The flock without shelter; Come as the winds come, when Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded: Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come; Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set! Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Knell for the onset! 435 BORDER BALLAD MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, Why the deil dinna ye march forward in order! All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. Flutters above your head, Many a crest that is famous in story. Sons of the mountain glen, Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory. Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, War-steeds are bounding, Stand to your arms and march in good order; Tell of the bloody fray, When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. 436 THE PRIDE OF YOUTH PROUD Maisie is in the wood, Walking so early; Sweet Robin sits on the bush Singing so rarely. 'Tell me, thou bonny bird, 'Who makes the bridal bed, 437 438 'The glowworm o'er grave and stone Shall light thee steady; The owl from the steeple sing, Welcome, proud lady.' CORONACH HE is gone on the mountain, From the raindrops shall borrow, To Duncan no morrow! The hand of the reaper Takes the ears that are hoary, Waft the leaves that are serest, Fleet foot on the correi, Sage counsel in cumber, How sound is thy slumber! Like the foam on the river LUCY ASHTON'S SONG Look not thou on beauty's charming; |