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THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.

141

The foregoing Pastoral is noted down from recitation; one or two of the intermediate stanzas appear to be common with the North-country Ballad of the "Laird of Drum." The air is sweetly plaintive, and peculiar to itself.

THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.

WHEN wint'ry storms keep yelling round,
By the blazing hearth we are oftenest found;
But in summer, when the fields are dry,
To the hunting goes my dog and I.

As my dog and I went down yon glen,
I smiled to a maiden who smiled again,
As tripping lightly o'er the bent,
To milk her ewes by the bughts she went.

O maiden mine, I have dream'd a dream;
Beneath the storm and the lightning's gleam,
I seem'd to lean on this branching oak,
When the black clouds met, and the tempest broke

Above my lorn head, and fired the tree,
Where, chill'd and trembling thou clung by me;
Oh! deep and deathlike was thy swoon,
As the thunders peal'd, and the rains fell down.

Some kinder rain-drops than the rest,

On thy lily brow and scarce heaving breast,
Fell pattering down, and the deep swoon broke-
With a sigh and shiver, to life thou woke.

I kiss'd the cold drops off, one by one,
Till thou gazed on me as the sun

Burst through, and chased the dense clouds away,
And the closed flowers spread to the sunny day.

She smiled, and said, "When you dream again,
Some fairer vision may change your strain;
And wealth and beauty may meet your view—
So begone, young man, for I love not you:

I love no pears, I love no plums,

Nor dreams that fade when the morning comes;
But I love the cherry that grows on yon tree,
So does my true-love, where'er he be."

A few lines of "The Young Man's Dream," are adopted from an old free traditional Ballad, that has nearly faded from our recollection; while the rest is original. The air is common with a good many of our West-country chaunts of the same measure.

THE SWAIN'S RESOLVE.

I once lov'd a maid, though she slighted me,
Because I had lately grown poor;
And she stole, before I wist it, my poor heart
And she'll keep it for ever more.

I went to my love's chamber-door one night,
And I knock'd, her favour to win;

away,

Without doubt my love arose, and slipp'd on her clothes, Ere she came down to let me in.

THE SWAIN'S RESOLVE.

143

As soon as I saw my true-love's face,

My heart grew light and fain,

And I clasp'd her round the middle so small,
And kiss'd the dear maid again.

She cries to the cock, saying, thou must not crow,
Until that the day be worn;

And thy wings shall be made of the silvery gray,
And thy voice of the silver horn.

As homeward I hied o'er yon lofty hill,

The wind it blew high and cold,

Then I wish'd I were safe by my true-love's side again,

Her fair form once more to enfold.

Oh I'll be as constant to my true love,

As the dial is to the sun;

And if she will not be the very same to me,

She is far better lost than won.

Noted down partly from recollection, but chiefly from the recitation of the gentleman who has favoured us with the Ballads of Lord Delaware, and the Ewe Lamb. The air is peculiarly lively and beautiful, and well merits preservation; which, along with the Ballad itself, seems peculiar to Ayrshire; and, so far as we are aware, neither the one nor the other have ever yet been committed to paper. The fourth stanza here, appears in common with one in the "Gray Cock," "Saw ye my Father," &c.; in other points the twain are different, whilst their respective melodies are altogether dissimilar.

THE MILK MAIDS' REQUEST.

THREE maidens a-milking did go,
Three maidens a-milking did go,
The wind it blew high,

And the wind it blew low,
Which tossed their pails to and fro.

They met a young swain whom they knew, They met a young swain that they knew, They asked of him

If he had any skill,

How to catch them a small bird or two.

O yes, I have very good skill,
O yes, I've got very good skill,
If you'll go along with me,
To the bonnie green-wood tree,
I will catch you a bird to your will.

To the merry green-wood as they went,
To the merry green-wood as they went,
The small birds were singing

Upon ilka green tree,

While the gay rose above the lily bent.

Ripe berries are soft to the touch,
Ripe berries are soft to the touch,
And the birds of a feather,

They will all flock together,

Let the people say little or much.

From recollection;-air plaintive and pastoral.

BILLY BOY.

145

BILLY BOY.

MAN the boat, all hands aboard, Billy boy, Billy boy,
Mark the signal, hands aboard, Billy boy,

Each moving, thrilling word,

As I steer from my adored

Lovely Nancy, says thy fancy, lingers round thy darling boy.

Is the maid so dear to thee, Billy boy, Billy boy?
Is her heart with thee at sea, Billy boy?

The maid is dear to me,

As the bark is to the tree,

Since my Nancy won my fancy, I'm her darling Billy boy.

Worth and merit bids thee prove, Billy boy, Billy boy, If she's meet to be thy love, Billy boy;

She's as meet to be my love,

As the hand is for the glove,

Since my Nancy won my fancy, I'm her darling Billy boy.

Can the maid thou would'st adore, Billy boy, Billy boy, Row or steer the boat ashore, Billy boy?

She can row the boat ashore,

With the paddle or the oar,

Thus my Nancy won my fancy, I'm her darling Billy boy.

Then a health to thine and thee, Billy boy, Billy boy,
We will pledge when on the sea, Billy boy;

And when heaven wills again,

Our return from o'er the main,

May thy Nancy find thy fancy still the same, my Billy boy.

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