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With cheeks like blooming roses,

The damsel she replied,
“I go to feed my father's sheep,

Down by the Shannon side.”

From budding elm, and branching thorn,

Each little native sung,
But wilder thrilling melody,

Down glen and greenwood rung;
As o'er the velvet moss we pass’d,

Where Erin's daughters glide,
And flit along the Sylvan shores,

And bowers on Shannon side.

We kiss'd, shook hands, and parted,

When the bud was on the breer;
I did not come that

way again,
Till autumn sered the year,
When crossing o'er a pleasant lawn,

By chance, my love I spied
Beside her father's bleating flock,

Down by the Shannon side.

I never dream'd a maiden

Could my wavering fancy win,
Till first I met this fair one,

Then love he enter'd in,
And wreck'd

my
former
peace

of mind:
I sought her for my bride,
Now happiness shall crown our days,

Down by the Shannon side. Altered from a well known old free Ballad of Irish extraction, bearing the same title with the foregoing, while the third and fifth stanzas are original.

LIGHT OF THE MOON.LATE WOOER.

165

ALONE BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.

When fairies dance light on the

grass, Wha revel a' night in a roun';

will

you meet me, sweet lass, Alone by the light of the moon.

There, say

Though sweet be the jessamine grove,

And fragrant the roses in June,
More bland are the whispers of love,

Breath'd forth by the light of the moon.

Where the nightingale perch'd on the thorn,

Enchants every ear with her tune,
Rejoicing soft twilight's return,

Let us meet by the light of the moon.

Yes! Rosa, will hie to her love,

Through the glen by the burnie, as soon As evening has silver'd the grove,

Alone by the light of the moon.

Altered from the olden copy, while the last stanza is original.

THE LATE WOOER.

The auld man he came over the lea,
Ha, ha, ha, I'll no hae him,

Out over the lea,

He came to court me,
With his auld gray beard newly shaven.

My mither bade me marry the Laird,
Ha, ha, ha, I'll no hae him;

Sin' his wealth bears the bell,

Ye may wed him yoursel',
With his auld gray beard newly shaven.

Wad mither and friends but let me alane,
And tell the Laird, I'll no hae him,

He'd forget to complain,

Nor come o'er here again,
With his auld gray beard newly shaven.

First stanza old, rest original.

THERE WAS ANE MAY.

THERE was ane May, and she lo'ed nae men,
She biggit her bonny bower down in yon glen,
But now she cries dool! and a-well-a-day!
Come down the green gate, and come here away.

When bonny young Johnny came o'er the sea,
He said he saw naithing sae lovely as me;
He height me baith rings and mony braw things;
And were na' my heart light, I wad die.

He had a wee titty that lo'ed na me,
Because I was twice as bonny as she;
She rais'd such a pother 'twixt him and his mother,
That were na' my heart light, I wad die.

THERE WAS ANE MAY.

167

The day it was set, and the bridal to be,
The wife took a dwaum, and lay down to die:
She main'd and she grain'd out of dolour and pain,
Till he vowed he never wad see me again.

His kin was for ane of a higher degree,
Said, what bad he to do with the like of me?
Albeit I was bonny, I was na for Johnny;
And were na my heart light, I wad die.

They said, I had neither cow nor cawf,
Nor dribbles of drink rins through the draff,
Nor pickles of meal rins through the mill e’e:
And were na my heart light, I wad die.

His titty she was baith wylie and slee,
She spied me as I came o'er the lee,
And then she ran in and made a loud din;
Believe
your

an'
ye

trow na me.

ain een,

His bonnet stood aye fou round on his brow,
His auld ane looks aye as well as some's new;
But now he lets't wear ony gate it will hing,
And casts himself dowie

upon

the corn-bing.

And now he gangs dandering about the dykes,
And a' he dow do is to hund the tykes:
The live-lang night he ne'er steeks his eye,
And were na my heart light, I wad die.

Were I yoúng for thee, as I hae been,
We shou'd hae been galloping down on yon green,
And linking it on the lily-white lee;
And wow gin I were but young

for thee.

“ There is no single word in modern English,” says Lord Hales, in notes to his Selections from the Bannatyne MSS. “ which corresponds with dow: that which approaches the nearest to it, is list, from which the adjective listless. The force of the word dow, is well expressed in the penultimate stanza of the foregoing Ballad. The lines alluded to, are in the description of one crossed in love, by an envious sister's machination, and a peevish mother's frowardness:”

And now he gangs dandering about the dykes,

And all he dow do is to hund the tykes.“ The whole," continues his Lordship, “is executed with equal truth and strength of colouring.” This Ballad is the composition of Lady Grissel Baillie, daughter of Patrick, the first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Baillie of Jarviswood, whose widow she died in 1746.

PRESTWICK DRUM.

Air-AITKEN DRUM.

At gloamin' gray, the close o' day,

When saftly sinks the village hum,
Nor far nor near ought meets the ear,

But aiblins Prestwick drum.
Nae bluidy battle it betides,
Nor sack, nor siege, nor ought besides,
Twa gude sheep-skins, wi' oaken sides,

An' leather lugs aroun'.

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