Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face What strings symphonious tremble in the air, What strains of vocal transport round her play? 120 Hear from the grave, great Tāliessin, hear; Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings, Waves in the eye of heaven her many-colour'd wings. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud 135 Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night. 10. 11. There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, LAMENT FOR CULLODEN The lovely lass o' Inverness, Their winding-sheet in the bluidy clay, For mony a heart thou hast made sair W. Collins 10 CLXI. 5 10 15 R. Burns CLXII. LAMENT FOR FLODDEN I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning- At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning, 5 Nae daffin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing, In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering, At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching— 10 At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border! We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking; J. Elliott 15 20 12. THE BRAES OF YARROW Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream, Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow ! Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought That I should never more behold him! CLXIII. 5 10 15 20 His mother from the window look'd The green-wood path to meet her brother; They sought him all the forest thorough; They sought him east, they sought him west, They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow. No longer from thy window look- And search no more the forest thorough; The tear shall never leave my cheek, And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow. And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow. 13. WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW Down in yon garden sweet and gay I heard a fair maid sighing say, My wish be wi' sweet Willie ! 'Willie's rare, and Willie's fair, Gin e'er he married ony. 25 30 335 40 45 J. Logan CLXIV. 'O gentle wind, that bloweth south, 10 Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth And tell me how he fareth! 5 'O tell sweet Willie to come doun And see the birds on ilka bush And leaves around them hinging. "The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast 'O Leader haughs are wide and braid 'But Willie's gone, whom I thought on, 'Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid, 'O came ye by yon water-side? Or came you by yon meadow green, She sought him up, she sought him down, Syne, in the cleaving of a craig, She found him drown'd in Yarrow ! 330 35 40 |