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And kiss'd and clap'd her there fu' lang,
My words they were na monie feck. I said, My lassie, will ye gang
To the Highland hills, some Earse to learn ? And I'll gie thee baith cow and ewe,
When ye come to the brig of Earn. At Leith auld meal comes in, ne'er fash,
And herrings at the Broomielaw;
There's gear to win we never saw.
When winter frosts and snaws begin,
At night when ye sit down to spin,
And thus the wearie night we'll end,
Our pleasant simmer back again.
And gowans glent o'er ilka field,
And lead her to my simmer bield. There, far frae a’ their scornfu' din,
That mak the kindly heart their sport, We'll laugh, and kiss, and dance, and sing,
And gar the langest day seem short.
THE MAID THAT TENDS THE GOATS.
Here's a brotch I ne'er shall tine,
Sandy herds a flock o'sheep;
THE FLOWER OF YARROW. In ancient times, as songs rehearse, One charming nymph employed each verse, She reign'd alone without a marrow, Mary Scot, the flower of Yarrow. Our fathers with such beauty fir'd, This matchless fair in crowds admir'd: Though matchless then, yet here's her marrow, Mary Scot's the flower of Yarrow.
Whose beauty, unadorn'd by art,
“ Mr. ROBERTSON, in his statistical account of the parish of Selkirk, says, that Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, was descended from the Dryhope, and married into the Harden family. Her daughter was married to a predecessor of the present Sir FRANCIS ELLIOT, of Stobbs, and of the late Lord Heathfield. There is a circumstance in their contract of marriage that merits attention, as it strongly marks the predatory spirit of the times. The father-in-law agrees to keep his daughter for some time af. ter the marriage; for which the son-in-law binds himself to give him the profits of the first Michaelmas moon, that is, the time when the moss-troopers and cattle-drivers on the borders began their nightly depredations.” A very interesting account of the Flower of Yarrow, appears in a note to Mr. Scott's Marmion, which we take the liberty of adding to the above.
“ Near the lower extremity of St. Mary's Lake, (a beautiful sheet of water, forming the reservoir from which the Yarrow takes its source) are the ruins of Dryhope tower, the birth-place of Mary Scott, daughter of Philip Scott of Dryhope, and famous by the traditional name of the Flower of Yarrow. She was married to Walter Scott of Harden, no less renowned for his depredations, than his bride for her beanty. Her romantic appellation was, in latter days, with equal justice conferred on Miss Mary Lilias Scott, the last of the elder branch of the Harden family.” Mr. Scott proceeds to relate, that “ he well remembers the talent and spirit of the latter Flower of Yarrow, though age had then injured the charms which procured her the name; and that the words usually sung to the air of “Tweedside,' beginning-What beauties does Flora disclose, were composed in her honour.”
Now I maun grane an' greet my lane,
An' never ane to heed me, 0);
Can scarce be said to cleed me, O:
My pouch without a guinea, 0;
Since I hae lost my Jeanie, O.
THE DAYS O’ AULD LANGSYNE.
TUNE_" The Burnside.” O HAPPY, happy were the days o' auld langsyne, The hamely sweets, the social joys o' auld langsyne, When ilka ane wi' friendly glow and cordial heart wad
join, To pledge wi' frien’ship leal and true the days o' langsyne.
When ilka ane, &c. How fled the joys that we hae seen, o' auld langsyne, When happy aft we baith hae been, in days o' langsyne: Still ilka former tender scene, wi' dear delight we min', But 'a' alas ! .ean ne'er reca’ the days o’langsyne.
Still ilka former, &c. How sweet the fond endearing charms o’auld langsyne, Wi' Jeanie in my youthfu' arms, in days o' langsyne; In rapture press'd her throbbing breast wi' glowing love
to mine, Thae happy hours flew o'er wi' bliss in days o’langsyne,
In rapture press’d, &c. Amang our native woods an' braes how pleasant the
time, To pu' for her I loo'd sae dear the primrose in its prime: Then fairer bloom'd ilk bonnie flower, mair sweet the
birds did sing, When wi' the lass I dearly loo’d, in days o’langsyne.
Then fairer bloom’d, &c. Nae mair amang our bonnie glens we'll garlands entwine, Nor pu' the wild-flow'r by the burn, to busk my lassie
Nae mair upon yon sunnie knowe we'll mark the sun
decline, Nor tell the tender tales that pleas'd in days o' langsyne.
Nae mair upon, &c.