As down we sat the flowers amang, An' saftly slade the hours awa', It isna owsen, sheep, an' kye, But gie to me my Julia dear, Ye powers wha rowe this yirthen ba', An' O! sae blythe thro' life I'll steer, Amang the hills o' Gallowa'. Whan gloamin' dauners up the hill, That owre the muir meand'ring rowes; An' sing the streams, the straths, and howes, The hills an' dales o' Gallowa'. An' whan auld Scotland's heathy hills, Whare friendship dwells an' freedom reigns, Whare heather blooms an' muircocks craw, O! dig my grave, and hide banes my Amang the hills o' Gallowa'. ADELGITHA. THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. The ordeal's fatal trumpet sounded, She wept, deliver'd from the danger; For he is in a foreign far land, Whose arm should now have set me free; And I must wear the willow garland For him that's dead, or false to me. Nay, say not that his faith is tainted!- It was indeed her own true knight. O make me of Nithsdale's Fair princedom the heiress, Is that worth one smile of My gentle Hugh Herries? The white bread, the sweet milk, I clasp'd and I wound him; My true lover tarries, They rein'd their proud war-steeds, 'Mang banks of blae-berries, I dwell with my loved one, My gentle Hugh Herries. THE SHEPHERD'S SON. JOANNA BAILLIE. The gowan glitters on the sward, The lavrock's in the sky, And Colley on my plaid keeps ward, Oh no! sad and slow! I hear nae welcome sound, The shadow of our trysting bush My sheep-bell tinkles from the west, Ah no! sad and slow! The shadow lingers still, And like a lanely ghaist I stand I hear below the water roar, VOL. IV. Oh no! sad and slow! These are nae sounds for me; R |