I make

my bed 'mang brackens green;

My light's the moon, round, bright, an' bonnie;

And there I muse the summer night

On her, my leal and lovely Jeanie.

Her

gown spun by her ain white hand; Her coat sae trim of snowy plaiden ; Is there a dame in all the land

Sae lady-like in silk and satin? Though minstrel lore is all my wealth;

Let gowks love gold and mailens many, I'm rich enough when I have thee,

My witty, winsome, lovely Jeanie.

O! have you seen her at the kirk,

Her brow with meek devotion glowing?

Or got ae glance of her bright eye,

Frae 'neath her tresses dark and flowing?
Or heard her voice breathe out such words
As angels use-sweet, but not many?
And have ye dream'd of aught sinsyne,
Save her, my fair, my lovely Jeanie ?

VOL. IV.

Z

THE LORD'S MARIE.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

The lord's Marie has kepp'd her locks
Up wi' a golden kame,

An' she has put on her net-silk hose,
An' awa to the tryste has gane.

O saft, saft fell the dew on her locks,
An' saft, saft on her brow;

Ae sweet drap fell on her strawberrie lip,
An' I kiss'd it off, I trow!

O whare gat ye that leal maiden,
Sae jimpy laced an' sma'?

O whare gat ye that young damsel,

Wha dings our lasses a'?

O whare gat ye that bonnie, bonnie lass,
Wi' heaven in her e'e?

Here's ae drap o' the damask wine
Sweet maiden, will ye pree?

Fu' white, white was her bonnie neck,
Twist wi' the satin twine,

But ruddie, ruddie grew her throat,

While she supp'd the blude-red wine. Come, here's thy health, young stranger doo, Who wears the golden kame;

This night will many drink thy health,
An ken na wha to name.

Play me up" Sweet Marie," I cry'd,

An' loud the piper blew,―

But the fiddler play'd ay struntum strum,

An' down his bow he threw :

Here's thy kind health i' the ruddie red wine, Fair dame o' the stranger land!

For never a pair o' een before

Could mar my gude bow-hand.

Her lips were a cloven honey-cherrie,
Sae tempting to the sight;
Her locks owre alabaster brows
Fell like the morning light.

An' O! her honey breath lift her locks,
As through the dance she flew,
While love laugh'd in her bonny blue ee,
An' dwelt on her comely mou'.

Loose hings yere broider'd gold garter,
Fair ladie, dare I speak?
She, trembling, lift her silky hand

To her red, red flushing cheek.

Ye've drapp'd, ye've drapped yere broach o' gold,

Thou lord's daughter sae gay!

The tears o'erbrimm'd her bonnie blue ee,

O come, O come away!

O maid, unbar the silver bolt,

Το

my chamber let me win; An' take this kiss, thou peasant youth,

I daur na let ye in;

An' take, quo' she, this kame o' gold, Wi' my lock o' yellow hair,

For meikle my heart forebodes to me I never maun meet ye mair!

SONG OF SNORRO.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

Come, haste from the mountain;
Come, leap like the roe;
Like the sea-eagle, come;

Or the shaft from the bow:

Cast

away the wet oar,

And the gleaming harpoon;
Leave the love-tale half told,

And the sweet harp in tune;
Leave the broad banner flying
Upon the rough flood;

Leave the ships' decks unswept

From the Orkney-men's blood.

And why should we leave thus
The whale when he's dying,
Our ships' decks unswept,

And our broad banners flying?
And why leave our loves

With their white bosoms swelling, When their breath lifts their locks While the soft tale we're telling?

The cloud when it snows,

And the storm in its glory,

Shall cease ere we stay,

Ancient bard, for thy story.

Bow all your heads, dames,

Let your bright eyes drop sorrow;

Hoar heads, stoop in dust,

Said the sweet voice of Snorro.

Fear not for the Norsemen,

The sharp shaft and war-axe

Have sober'd their cheer:

But dread that mute sea,

With its mild waters leaping;

Dread Hecla's green hill

In the setting sun sleeping.

It was seen in no vision,
Reveal'd in no dream,
For I heard a voice crying
From Tingalla's stream-