Whare friendship dwells an' freedom reigns, 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 Nay, say not that his faith is tainted!- It was indeed her own true knight. GENTLE HUGH HERRIES. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. Go seek in the wild glen Where curlews are calling, For there will ye find him They sought in the wild glen- 'Mang lang lady-bracken; Yon green hill I'll give thee, This bold traitor's lying O make me of Nithsdale's The white bread, the sweet milk, I clasp'd and I wound him ; They rein'd their proud war-steeds, And behind them dames wail'd, and THE SHEPHERD'S SON. JOANNA BAILLIE. The gowan glitters on the sward, 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, Alack! I canna hear. 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 The shadow of our trysting bush I coft yestreen frae chapman Tam To tye it round her brow. Oh no! sad and slow! The time it winna pass; The shadow of that weary thorn Is tether'd on the grass. Oh! now I see her on the way! She's past the witches' knowe; She's climbing up the brownie's braeMy heart is in a lowe! Oh no! 'tis not so! 'Tis glaumrie I hae seen; The shadow of the hawthorn bush Will move nae mair till e'en. My book of grace I'll try to read, When Colley barks I'll raise my head, Oh, no! sad and slow! The time will ne'er be gane; The shadow of the trysting bush Is fix'd like ony stane. |