To the contest behold the proud foes fierce returning,
What tears must be shed at the fate of the day!
While the bards of old Scotia their harps tune to mourning,
The flowers of the forest are all wed away.

LIX.

THOU'RT GANE AWA *.

i

Thou'rt gane awa, thou'rt gane awa,
Thou'rt gane awa frae me, Mary,

Nor friends nor I could make thee stay,

Thou'st cheated them and me, Mary.

* Two very different accounts have been given of the particular incident which gave birth to the composition of this well known song. We shall state both, exactly as we received them, leaving our readers to judge for themselves.

A London Magazine, for the Month of August 1770, contains the following minute detail. "A young gentleman in Ireland, on the point of marrying a lady there, to whom he had been for some time most tenderly attached, happened to receive an unexpected visit from the son of one of his father's first friends. The visitor was welcomed with every imaginable mark of kindness; and, in order to pay him the higher compliment, the intended bride was given to him by her unsuspicious lover for a partner, at a ball that early succeeded his arrival. They danced together the whole evening; and the next morn ing, in violation of the laws of hospitality on the one part, and of every moral tie on the other, they took themselves off secretly to Scotland, where they were married.

Sorry I am (continues the editor) to add the consequences of this affair. Where a woman can be guilty of so atrocious a breach of faith, she but ill

Until this hour I never thought

That ought could alter thee, Mary,
Thou'rt still the mistress of my heart,
Think what thou wilt of me, Mary.

Whate'er he said or might pretend,
Wha stole that heart o' thine, Mary,
True love I'm sure was ne'er his end,
Nor nae sic love as mine, Mary.
I spake sincere, ne'er flatter'd much,
Had no unworthy thought, Mary,
Ambition, wealth, nor naething such-
No, I lov'd only thee, Mary.

merits the regret of a worthy mind; nevertheless this truly valuable and highly injured young gentleman sunk under the double weight of ingratitude and ill-requited love; and in an hour of melancholy having written these lines, the generosity of which is almost unexampled, he died in a deep decline, to the great affliction of all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.

The other account contrives to fix the scene nearer home. According to it, the author was a gentleman of extensive property in the west of Scotland and the Mary whom the song so feelingly bewails, his beloved and beautiful wife. After having been for several years married, and notwithstanding all the allurements of her situation, this lady, it is said, disgraced herself, and involved her family in the deepest distress by her dishonourable conduct. Insensible to the attractions of rank and affluence-unworthy of the affection of her amiable husband, and lost to the solemnity of those obligations which are necessarily connected with the matrimonial state, she for some time indulged in criminal intercourse, and afterwards eloped with her own footman.

A treatment at once so unmerited and so unexpected overwhelmed the gentleman with inexpressible anguish. He remained for some time in that state of mute but painful agitation which never fails to attend any great and sudden adversity, and which is only increased to more acute agony, by reviewing with

Though you've been false, yet while I live,
No other maid I'll woo, Mary;
Let friends forget, as I forgive,

Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary.
So then farewell, of this be sure,

Since you've been false to me, Mary,
For all the world I'd not endure
Half what I've done for thee, Mary.

LX.

THE PEET-CADGER's LAMENT.

(In the Cumberland dialect.)

AIR-Burn's farewell to Jean; or, hey tuttie, tuttie.

My bonny black meer's deed!

The thought's e'en leyke to turn my head!

d;

She led the peets, and gat me bread

But what wull I dui now?

Composure the extent of the evil, and by the renewed recollection of former enjoyments "departed never to return." As soon, however, as his mind regained that tranquillity necessary to express its feelings with coherence and energy, he gave vent to his grief by composing this simple but sententious address to the deluded object of his suffering and disgrace.

She was bworn when Jwohn was bworn, Just ninteen years last Thuirsday mworn; Puir beast! had she got locks o'cworn, She'd been alive, I trow!

When young, just leyke a deil she ran ;
The car-geer at Durdar she wan;
That day saw me a happy man,

Now tears gush frae my e'e.

For she's geane, my weyfe's geane,
Jwohn's a swodger,-I ha'e neane!
Brokken! deyl'd! left my leane,
I've nin to comfort me!

When wheyles I mounted on my yaud,
I niver reade leyke yen stark mad;
We toddled on, and beath were glad,
To see our sonsie deame:

The weyfe, the neybors, weel she knew,
And aw the deyke-backs where gurse grew;
Then when she'd pang'd her belly fou,
How tow'rtly she cam heame!

Nae pamper'd beasts e'er heeded we;
Nae win or weet e'er dreeded we;
I niver cried woah, hop, or jee,
She kent-aye, iv'ry turn!

H3

And wheyles I gat her teates o' hay,
And gev her watter tweyce a-day.
She's deed! she's deed, I'm wae to say;
Then how can I but mourn?

Frae Tindle-Fell twelve pecks she'd bringShe was a yaud, fit for a king!

I niver strack her, silly thing!

'Twas hard we twea sud part!

I's auld, and feal'd, and ragg'd, and peer, And cannot raise anither meer;

But cannot leeve anither year!

The loss will break my heart.

LXI.

NANCY.

AIR-The Legacy.

Now the ruddy sun is setting,

Now the clouds with crimson glow,
Evening's dew my bower is wetting,
Fresh again my sorrows flow;
O'er these scenes my sportive fancy
Oft has roam'd with raptur'd joy;
Now their charms have fled with Nancy,

Saddening thoughts my soul employ.