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The happy hero see,
All his joys surrounding him,
O white foaming Rhaider, by thy roaring fall, .. How oft the last words of my love I recal, , When the fresh blowing blossom he pluck'd from yon trees And gave it all blushing and fragrant to me: “Accept it, my Lucy, and long may it prove “A pleasing memorial of innocent love."
O dear is that blossom, tho' faded, to me,
This token of passion, so tender and true, .
Then why should my youth feel the blight of despair,
Then Rhaider, hoarse dashing, with clamourous joy,
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O thou hast seen the lily fair
All bath'd in morning dew, visiidid And thou hast seen the lovely rose,
Just opening to the view, Mary, I
The lily bath'd in morning dew,.ber
The rose so fair to see this link Are not more pure than her I love,
Are not more fair than thee, Mary.
But soon before time's withering blast,
The rose and lily fade,
Outlive its darkening shade, Mary.
Yet there is that within thy breast
Will ruthless time dety, en
Will Aourish in yon sky, Mary.
Now clos’d for aýe thy coal-black een,
That fondly gaz'd on me,- 0 Willy,
I aye was fain to see my Willy.
Last night, across the Clyde-dear Willy, This morn a stiffen'd corse brought hame,
Alake, 'tis hard to bide o Willy.,
The owlet hooted sair yestreen,
And thrice the soot it fell-dear Willy, The tyke cam' late, and howl'd aloud,
It seem'd the dying knell o' Willy. Deep were the spaws, keen were my waes,
The bairns oft cried for thee-their Willy, I trembling said, he'll soon be here, .
The wee things ne'er clos'd e'e, Willy.
And when I saw the thick sleet fa',
A bleezing fire I made for Willy,
And I grew mair. afraid for Willy.
And ran thy voice to hear,-- ah, Willy, The wind blew hollow, but nae sound My sinking heart did cheer-- 0 Willy.
The clock struck ané,—the clock struck twa,
The clock struck three and four- no Willy, I thought I heard the pony's foot,
And flew to ope the door to Willy; The pony neigh’d—but thou wert lost,
I sank upon the snaw, for Willy, Thy wraith appear'd e'en where I lay,
And whisper'd thou wert drown'd-0 Willy
The moon was up, in vain I sought
The stiffen'd corse o' thine, lost Willy, 'Twill soon, soon mingle wi' the dust,
And near it sae will mine–O Willy. Gae dry your tears, my bairnies five,
Gae dry your tears o' sorrow, dearies, Your father's cares are at an end,
And sae will mine ere morrow, dearies,