Page:Eight popular songs.pdf/7

 7 This -this was the lay of the Jewish maid, Though not in her father’s bowers, Sweetly she sung—white in sadness she stray’d Near the ruins of Babylon’s towers. No more, &c.

Where are the sons of mine ancient race? That were born but the javelin to bear ; Land of my kindred, whose rains I trace, That once was so lovely and fair. The green grass grows on the fertile spot, Where once grew the sweetest of flowers : Land of my kindred shall never be forgot, While a ruin remains of thy towers. No more, &c.

NGSYNE BESIDE THE WOODLAND BURN. Langsyne beside the woodland burn, Amang the broom sae yellow, I lan’d mo heath the milk-white thorn, On nature’s mossy pillow; Around my seat the flow’rs were strew’d That frae the wild-wood I had pu’d, To weave mysel’ a summer snood, To pleasure my dear fellow.

I twin'd the woodbine round the rose Its richer hues to mollow ; Green sprigs of fragrant birk I chose, To busk the sedge sae yellow.