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Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair;
SCOTTISH BALLAD. Fair Lady Ann sat in her bower,
Adown by the green wode syde; And the flowres did spring, and the byrdes did sing,
'Twas the merry Mayday tyde. But fair Lady Ann on Sir William callid,
Wi the tear so big in her ee
In the wars ayond the sea !
A’ nakit as they were borne ;
Upo the simmer's morn.
Among the frost and the sna,
A-playing at the ba'.
Now listen, thou faire ladie,
Ø These. || Lesson, instruction.
'Tis I am Peter, and this is Paul,
And that ane sae fair to see But a twelmonth sin * syne to Paradise came,
To join with our companie. 0, I will hae the sna white boy,
The bonniest o' the three. • And gin I were there and in thy propine +,
0, what wad ze do wi me?' 'Tis I wad cleed thee in silk and gowd I,
And nourice thee on my knee! • O mither, mither, when I was thine,
Sic ố kindness I could nae see.
The fause nurse buried me,
Along the frosty air ;
Heaven grants him to my prayer ! • Down with the bridge!'-To meet her knight
She flew in joyous mood;
And linger'd in the wood.
I've sigh’d for this bless'd hour!
I Gold, Such.
• Bar well the gate, for foes are nigh:
And bring my child.'—'Tis late,
Till morn, dear Edric, wait.'
He heard an infant's wail;
Her boy o'er hill and dale.
Tears frozen on his face ;-
THE OTAHEITAN MOURNER.
[Peggy Stewart was the daughter of an Otaheitan chief, and
married to one of the mutineers of the Bounty. On Stewart's being seized and carried away in the Pandora Frigate, Peggy fell into a rapid decay, and in two months died of a broken heart, leaving an infant daughter, who is still living.)
FROM the isle of the distant ocean
My white love came to me;
Beneath the spreading tree.
I strew'd his pillow there,
So gentle and so fair.
Or he could talk in mine,
And never to resign.
0, then 'twas lovely watching
The sparkling of his eyes,
And answer all his sighs.
To play upon the wave,
And the curling surge to brave.
Like dolphins on the tide ; To dive beneath the billow,
Or the rolling surf to ride. To summer groves I led him,
Where fruit hangs in the sun; We linger'd by the fountains
That murmur as they run. By the verdant islands sailing,
Where the crested seabirds go, We heard the dash of the distant spray, And saw through the deeps the sunbeams play,
In the coral bowers below. And when my lover, weary,
To our woodland couch would creep, I sang the song that pleased him,
And crown'd bis lids with sleep. My kindred much would wonder,
The white man's love to see;
Would often envy me.
Would sadden with despair,
Should start and quiver there,
I knew not why in slumber
His heart should tremble so; Or lock'd in love's embraces,
How doubt and fear could grow.
Till o'er the bounding billow
The angry chieftains came; They seized my wretched lover,
They mock'd my anguish'd claim; In iron bands then bound him,
I flew his fate to share ;
And threw me to despair.
So far to cross the sea; Their chieftain's wrongs revenging,
To tear my love from me? Are Otaheitan bosoms
No refuge for the brave; Can exile nor repentance
A wretched lover save?
No more the Heiva's dancing
My mournful steps will suit ; As when to the torchlight glancing,
And beating to the flute. No more my braided tresses
With smiling flowers shall bloom; Nor blossom rich in beauty
Shall lend its sweet perfume.
All by the sounding ocean
I sit me down and mourn, In hopes his chiefs may pardon him,
And speed my love's return.