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Well may I sigh and sairly weep;

Thy song sad recollections bring; 0! Ay across the roaring deep,

And to my maiden sweetly sing; 'Twill to her faithless bosom Aling

Remembrance of a sacred day; But feeble is thy wee bit wing,

And far's the isle of Alderney.

Then, bonny bird, wi' mony a tear,

I'll mourn beneath this hoary thorn, And thou wilt find me sitting here,

Ere thou canst hail the dawn o' morn. Then, high on airy pinions borne,

Thọu'lt chaunt a sang o' love and wae, And soothe me weeping at the scorn

O'the sweet maid of Alderney.

And when around my wearied head,

Soft pillow'd where my fathers lie, Death shall eternal poppies spread,

And close for aye my tearfu' eye, Perch'd on some bonny branch on high,

Thou'lt sing thy sweetest roundelay, And soothe my spirit passing by,

To meet the maid of Alderney.

LVIII.

THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST,

NEW SET.

AIR—The flowers of the forest

On the dark forest side an old minstrel sat playing,

White wav'd his thin locks and sad was his lay; He

sang the bright laurels of Scotia decaying, And flowers of the forest all weded away.

I weep for the wrongs on my country inflicted,

I weep for your fate who lie cold in the clay s
Your struggle, though hapeless, true valour depicted,

Your mem'ry, brave heroes, lives ne'er to decay.

For thee, my lov'd chieftain, in honour grown hoary,

Thy evening was bright as unclouded thy day; For ever thou'lt shine in the annals of glory,

Thy laurels unsullied shall ne'er fade away.

I've seen on the green, blooming maidens unfeigning,

With love their eye smiling most cheerful and gay, The lone mountain echoes now return their complaining,

Fond hope's brightest prospects are all wed away.

H

To the contest behold the proud foes fierce returning,

What tears must be shed at the fate of the day! While the bards of old Scotia their harps tune to mourning,

The flowers of the forest are all wed away.

LIX.

THOU'RT GANE AWA,

Thou'rt gane awa, thou’rt gane awa,

Thou’rt gane awa frae me, Mary,
Nor friends nor I could make thee stay,

Thou'st cheated them and me, Mary.

* Two very different accounts have been given of the particular incident which gave birth to the composition of this well known song. We shall state! both, exactly as we received them, leaving our readers to judge for themselves

A London Magazine, for the Month of August 1770, contains the following minute detail. “ A young gentleman in Ireland, on the point of marrying Jady there, to whom he had been for some time most tenderly attached, hap pened to receive an unexpected visit from the son of one of his father's first friends. The visitor was welcomed with every imaginable mark of kindness and, in order to pay him the higher compliment, the intended bride was give to him by her unsuspicious lover for a partner, at a ball that early succeeded his arrival. They danced together the whole evening; and the next morn ing, in violation of the laws of hospitality on the one part, and of every mora tie on the other, they took themselves off secretly to Scotland, where they were married.

Sorry I am continues the editor) to acid the consequences of this affair Where a woman can be guilty of so atrocious a breach of faith, she but il Until this hour I never thought

That ought could alter thee, Mary,
Thou’rt still the mistress of my heart,

Think what thou wilt of me, Mary.

Whate'er he said or might pretend,

Wha stole that heart o' thine, Mary,
True love I'm sure was ne'er his end,

Nor nae sic love as mine, Mary.
I spake sincere, ne'er flatter'd much,

Had no unworthy thought, Mary,
Ambition, wealth, nor naething such

No, I lov'd only thee, Mary.

merits the regret of a worthy mind; nevertheless this truly valuable and highly injured young gentleman sunk under the double weight of ingratitude and ill-requited love ; and in an hour of melancholy having written these lines, the generosity of which is almost unexampled, he died in a deep decline, to the great affliction of all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.

The other account contrives to fix the scene nearer home. According to it, the author was a gentleman of extensive property in the west of Scotland, and the Mary whom the song so feelingly bewails, his beloved and beautiful wife. After having been for several years married, and notwithstanding all the allurements of her situation, this lady, it is said, disgraced herself, and involved her family in the deepest distress by her dishonourable conduct. Insensible to the attractions of rank and affluence-unworthy of the affection of her amiable husband, and lost to the solemnity of those obligations which are necessarily connected with the matrimonial state, she for some time in. dulged in criminal intercourse, and afterwards eloped with her own footma

A treatment at once so unmerited and so unexpected overwhelmed the gentleman with inexpressible anguish. He remained for some time in that state of mute but painful agitation which never fails to attend any great and sudden adversity, and which is only increased to more acute agony, by reviewing with

Though you've been false, yet while I live,

No other maid I'll woo, Mary;
Let friends forget, as I forgive,

Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary.
So then farewell, of this be sure,

Since you've been false to me, Mary,
For all the world I'd not endure

Half what I've done for thee, Mary.

LX.

THE PEET-CADGER's LAMENT,

(In the Cumberland dialect.)

AIR-Burn's farewell to Jean; or, hey tuttie, tuttie.

My bonny black meer's deed!
The thought's e'en leyke to turn my head !
She led the peets, and gat me bread;

But what wull I dui now?

Composure the extent of the evil, and by the renewed recollection of former enjoyments “ departed never to return.” As soon, however, as his mind regained that tranquillity necessary to express its feelings with coherence and energy, he gave vent to his grief by composing this sinple but sententious address to the deluded object of his suffering and disgrace.

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