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And lightsome be the lassie's care

That yields an honest heart.

When Sawney, Jock, and Janetie,

Are up, and gotten lear,
They'll help to gar the boatie row,

And lighten a' our care.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows,

The boatie rows fu' weel;
And lightsome be her heart that bears

The murlain and the creel.

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Burns says
the author of this song

was a Mr. Ewan of Aberdeen." It is a charming display of womanly affection, mingling with the common concerns and daily avocations of humble life. We have very few of these maritime lyrics, and what we have are not excellent. The Scottish poets seem averse to go down to the sea in ships, and view the wonders of the Lord on the deep. The varied fortunes of a mariner or a fisherman-his obedience to the tide his knowledge of wild shoresof the productions of the sea, and his laborious occupation, are all poetic. Several curious communities of fishermen belong to the Scottish coast.

RED GLEAMS THE SUN.

Red gleams the sun on yon

hill

tap,
The dew sits on the

gowan;
Deep murmurs thro' her glens the Spey,

Around Kinrara rowan.
Where art thou, fairest, kindest lass ?

Alas! wert thou but near me,
Thy gentle soul, thy melting e'e

Would ever, ever cheer me.

The laverock sings among the clouds,

The lambs they sport so cheerie,
And I sit weeping by the birk ;

O where art thou, my dearie !
Aft may I meet the morning dew,

Lang greet till I be weary;
Thou canna, winna, gentle maid !

Thou canna be my dearie.

This sweet short song was written by Dr. Robert Couper, and published about the year 1790. The name which the author gave it was “Kinrara ;" and Kinrara was the summer residence of the late Duchess of Gordon, to whom he dedicated two volumes of verse.

THE DARIEN SONG.

We will go, maidens, go

To the lonesome woods and mourn, Where the primroses blow,

Till our gallant lads return: Till from Darien's sunny land

We shall welcome back again That young and goodly companie

That ventured o'er the main.

We will go, lady, go

To the lonesome wood wi' thee; Though chill the winds should blow,

While those weary days we dree. Our lovers' banners proudly waved

As they sailed o'er the faemAlas! when will that sweet wind blow

Will waft our gallants hame?

O there were white hands waved,

And many a parting hail
As their vessel stemmed the tide,

And stretched the snowy sail :
With many a sigh and bitter tear,

And many a parting sign,
Away they went to spread our fame

Along the boundless brine.

You may go, maidens, go

Your weary days to dree,
But I shall never see you more

Come laughing o'er the lea:
With watching will your eyes be dim,

And meikle will you mourn,
For never will the lads

you

love From Darien's shore return.

“ On the 26th of July, 1698, the whole city of Edinburgh poured down upon Leith, to see the colony depart amid the tears and prayers of relations and friends, and of their countrymen. Neighbouring nations, with a mixture of surprise and respect, saw the poorest kingdom of Europe sending forth the most gallant and most numerous colony that had ever gone from the Old to the New World."--Sir J. Dalrymple’s Remains. The sordid policy of foreign powers, and the treachery of King William, united to ruin the famous Scottish colony of Darien. For nearly half a century, the cruel extinction of this young colony, and the infamous murder of the people of Glenco, were considered, in Scotland, as national grievances, of which the house of Stuart long held out the hope of redress or revenge. This beautiful

song expresses very meekly the fears and feelings of the nation.

LOCH-ERROCH SIDE.

As I came by Loch-Erroch side,

The lofty hills surveying,
The water clear, the heather blooms

Their fragrance sweet conveying,
I met unsought my lovely maid,

I found her like May morning, With graces sweet, and charms so rare,

Her person all adorning.

How kind her looks, how blest was I,

While in my arms I press'd her! And she her wishes scarce conceal'd

As fondly I caress'd her. She said, If that

your

heart be true, If constantly you'll love me, I heed not care nor fortune's frowns,

For nought but death shall move me:

But faithful, loving, true, and kind

For ever you shall find me; And of our meeting here so sweet,

Loch-Erroch sweet shall mind me. Enraptur'd then, My lovely lass,

I cried, no more we'll tarry; We'll leave the fair Loch-Erroch side,

For lovers soon should marry.

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