She dreary sits 'tween naked wa's,
Her cheek ne'er dimpled into mirth;
Half-happit, haurling out o' doors,
And hunger-haunted at her hearth.
And see the tears fa' frae her een,
Warm happin down her haffits wan;
But guess her bitterness of saul
In sorrow for her auld gudeman!

QUEEN MARY'S LAMENT.

BURNS.

Now nature hangs her mantle green
On ilka blooming tree,

And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out ower the grassy lea.

Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, And glads the azure skies;

But nought can glad the weary wicht, That fast in durance lies.

Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose doun the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae.

Now laverocks wake the merry morn,

Aloft on dewy wing,

The merle, in his noontide bower,
Makes woodland echoes ring.

The mavis, mild wi' mony a note,
Sings drowsy day to rest;

In love and freedom they rejoice,
Wi' care nor thrall opprest.

The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove these sweets amang;
But I, the Queen o' a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.

I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
Where happy I hae been;
Fu' lightly rase I in the morn,
As blithe lay down at e'en.

And I'm the sovereign of Scotland,
And mony a traitor there;
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
And never-ending care.

But as for thee, thou false woman,

My sister and my fae,

Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword,
That through thy soul shall gae.

The weeping blood in woman's breast,
Was never known to thee;

Nor the balm that draps on wounds of woe,
From woman's pitying ee.

My son! my son! may kinder stars
Upon thy fortune shine;

And may those pleasures gild thy reign,
That ne'er would blink on mine.

God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
Or turn their hearts to thee;

And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
Remember him for me.

Oh, soon to me may summer suns
Nae mair licht up the morn!
Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn.

And in the narrow house o' death
Let winter round me rave;

And the next flowers that deck the spring
Bloom on my peaceful grave!

DINNA THINK, BONNIE LASSIE.

TUNE-The Smith's a gallant fireman.

O DINNA think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee
Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee;
Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee
I'll tak a stick into my hand, and come again and see
thee.

;

;

Far's the gate ye hae to gang; dark's the night and

eerie ;

Far's the gate ye hae to gang; dark's the night and eerie ;

Far's the gate ye hae to gang; dark's the night and

eerie ;

O stay this night wi' your love, and dinna gang and leave me.

It's but a night and hauf a day that I'll leave my dearie; But a night and hauf a day that I'll leave my dearie ; But a night and hauf a day that I'll leave my dearie; Whene'er the sun gaes west the loch, I'll come again and see thee.

Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me; Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me; When a' the lave are sound asleep, I am dull and eerie; And a' the lee-lang night I'm sad, wi' thinking on my dearie.

O dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee; Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee; Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee; Whene'er the sun gaes out o' sight, I'll come again and see thee.

Waves are rising o'er the sea; winds blaw loud and fear me;

Waves are rising o'er the sea; winds blaw loud and fear me.

While the winds and waves do roar, I am wae and drearie,

And gin ye loe me as ye say, ye winna gang and leave me.

O never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; E'en let the world gang as it will, I'll stay at hame and cheer thee.

Frae his hand he coost his stick; I winna gang and leave thee

e;

Threw his plaid into the neuk; never can I grieve thee; Drew his boots, and flang them by; cried, My lass, be cheerie ;

I'll kiss the tear frae aff thy cheek, and never leave my dearie.

BONNIE MARY HAY.

CRAWFORD.

BONNIE Mary Hay, I will loe thee yet;
For thine eye is the slae, and thy hair is the jet;
The snaw is thy skin, and the rose is thy cheek;
O, bonnie Mary Hay, I will loe thee yet!

O, bonnie Mary Hay, will ye gang wi' me,
When the sun's in the west, to the hawthorn tree,
To the hawthorn tree, and the bonnie berry den?
And I'll tell thee, Mary Hay, how I loe thee then.

O, bonnie Mary Hay, it is haliday to me,
When thou art couthie, kind, and free;

There's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky,
Bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh.

O, bonnie Mary Hay, thou mauna say me nay,
But come to the bower by the hawthorn brae;
But come to the bower, and I'll tell ye a' what's true,
How, bonnie Mary Hay, I can loe nane but you.*

TUNE-Good morning to your night-cap.

BEHAVE yoursell before folk,
Behave yoursell before folk,
And dinna be sae rude to me,

As kiss me sae before folk.

From an amusing series of Scottish traditionary stories, entitled "Tales of my Grandmother," 1825.