THE BROKEN HEART OF ANNIE. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. Down yon green glen, in yon wee bower, Lived fair and lovely Annie: Ere she saw seventeen simmer suns, She waxed wond'rous bonnie. Young Lord Dalzell at her bower door When she grew faint, and sick of heart, I found her as a lily flower, When dew hangs in its blossom, Wet were her cheeks, and a sweet babe Hung smiling at her bosom. Such throbs ran through her frame, as seem'd Her heart and soul to sever; In no one's face she look'd-her bloom Was fading--and for ever. Thou hast thy father's smile, my babe, A voice that made his falsest vows And get, from hearts which he had broke, My false love came to me yestreen, And kiss'd his babe, and said, Sweet wean, And out he pull'd a purse of gold, It's not thy gold and silver bright, Speak to thy God of thy broken vows, A WEARY LOT IS THINE. SIR WALTER SCOTT. A weary lot is thine, fair maid, To pull the thorn, thy brow to braid, A feather of the blue, A doublet of the Lincoln green, No more of me you knew, My love! No more of me you knew. This morn is merry June, I trow ; The rose is budding fain; But it shall bloom in winter snow Ere we two meet again. He turned his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore; He gave his bridle reins a shake, Said, Adieu! for evermore, My love! And, adieu, for evermore. WAKEN, LORDS AND LADIES GAY. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Waken, lords and ladies gay, On the mountain dawns the day; With hawk and horse and hunting spear. Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling; Waken, lords and ladies gay! Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray; Waken, lords and ladies gay, We can show the marks he made When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed; Louder, louder chant the lay, Time, stern huntsman! who can balk? MILES COLVINE. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. O mariner, O mariner, When will our gallant men Make our cliffs and woodlands ring And maidens waved them from the shore By the waning of yon moon? |