THE MAID OF NEIDPATH.

O LOVERS' eyes are sharp to see,
And lovers' ears in hearing;

And love, in life's extremity,

Can lend an hour of cheering. Disease had been in Mary's bower, And slow decay from mourning, Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower, To watch her love's returning.

All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,
Her form decay'd by pining,

Till through her wasted hand, at night,
You saw the taper shining;

By fits, a sultry hectic hue

Across her cheek was flying;

By fits, so ashy pale she grew,
Her maidens thought her dying.

Yet keenest powers to see and hear,
Seem'd in her frame residing;
Before the watch-dog prick'd his ear,
She heard her lover's riding;
Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd,
She knew, and waved to greet him;
And o'er the battlement did bend,
As on the wing to meet him.

He came he pass'd-an heedless gaze,

As o'er some stranger glancing ;
Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase,

Lost in his courser's prancing-
The castle arch, whose hollow tone
Returns each whisper spoken,
Could scarcely catch the feeble moan,
Which told her heart was broken.

WANDERING WILLIE.

[1806.]

ALL joy was bereft me the day that

you left me,
wide sea;

And climb'd the tall vessel to sail yon
O weary betide it! I wander'd beside it,
And bann'd it for parting my Willie and me.

Far o'er the wave hast thou follow'd thy fortune, Oft fought the squadrons of France and of Spain; Ane kiss of welcome 's worth twenty at parting, Now I hae gotten my Willie again.

When the sky it was mirk, and the winds they were wailing,

I sat on the beach wi' the tear in my ee,

And thought o' the bark where my Willie was sailing, And wish'd that the tempest could a' blaw on me.

Now that thy gallant ship rides at her mooring,
Now that my wanderer's in safety at hame,
Music to me were the wildest wind's roaring,

That e'er o'er Inch-Keith drove the dark ocean faem.

When the lights they did blaze, and the guns they did rattle,

And blithe was each heart for the great victory, In secret I wept for the dangers of battle,

And thy glory itself was scarce comfort to me.

But now shalt thou tell, while I eagerly listen,
Of each bold adventure, and every brave scar;
And trust me, I'll smile, though my een they may
glisten;

For sweet after danger 's the tale of the war.

And oh, how we doubt when there's distance 'tween lovers.

When there's naething to speak to the heart thro' the ee!

How often the kindest and warmest prove rovers,
And the love of the faithfullest ebbs like the sea.

Till, at times-could I help it?—I pined and I ponder'd, If love could change notes like the bird on the treeNow I'll ne'er ask if thine eyes may hae wander'd, Enough, thy leal heart has been constant to me.

Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through channel, Hardships and danger despising for fame,

Furnishing story for glory's bright annal,

Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie and hame!

Enough now thy story in annals of glory

Has humbled the pride of France, Holland, and

Spain;

No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou leave me,

I never will part with my Willie again.

HUNTING SONG'

WAKEN, lords and ladies gay,
On the mountain dawns the day,
All the jolly chase is here,

With hawk, and horse, and hunting-spear!
Hounds are in their couples yelling,
Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,

Merrily, merrily, mingle they,

"Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Waken, lords and ladies gay,

The mist has left the mountain grey,
Springlets in the dawn are steaming,
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming:
And foresters have busy been,
To track the buck in thicket green;
Now we come to chant our lay,

66

Waken, lords and ladies gay."

1

[First published in the Edinburgh Annual Register of 1808, --and set to a Welsh air in " THOMSON'S Select Melodies," vol. iii. 1817.]

Waken, lords and ladies gay,
To the green-wood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot, and tall of size ;

We can show the marks he made,
When 'gainst the oak his antlers fray'd·
You shall see him brought to bay,
"Waken, lords and ladies gay."

Louder, louder chant the lay,
Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Tell them youth, and mirth, and glee,
Run a course as well as we;

Time, stern huntsman! who can balk,
Stanch as hound, and fleet as hawk;
Think of this, and rise with day,
Gentle lords and ladies gay.

SONG.

Он, say not, my love, with that mortified air,
That your spring-time of pleasure is flown,
Nor bid me to maids that are younger repair,
For those raptures that still are thine own.

Though April his temples may wreathe with the vine,
Its tendrils in infancy curl'd,

"Tis the ardour of August matures us the wine, Whose life-blood enlivens the world.