Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/580

562 And sicker in a grave sae deep

I laid the dear-loo'd boy;

And now for ever maun I weep,

My winsome Gilderoy.

setting day and rising morn,

With soul that still shall love thee,

I'll ask of heaven thy safe return,

With all that can improve thee.

I'll visit oft the birken bush,

Where first thou kindly told me

Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush,

Whilst round thou didst enfold me.

To all our haunts I will repair,

By greenwood, shaw, or fountain;

Or where the summer day I'd share

With thee upon yon mountain.

There will I tell the trees and flowers,

From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,

By vows you're mine, by love is yours

A heart which cannot wander.

heath this night must be my bed,

The bracken curtain for my head,

My lullaby the warder's tread,

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary;

To-morrow eve, more stilly laid,

My couch may be my bloody plaid,

My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid!

It will not waken me, Mary!

I may not, dare not, fancy now

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow,

I daire not think upon thy vow,

And all it promised me, Mary,

No fond regret must Norman know;

When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe,

His heart must be like bended bow,

His foot like arrow free, Mary.

A time will come with feeling fraught

For, if I fall in battle fought,

Thy hapless lover's dying thought

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary?

And if return'd from conquer'd foes,

How blythely will the evening close,

How sweet the linnet sing repose,

To my young bride and me, Mary!

blythesome lad o' bonnie Dundee,

Sae young an' fair, sae frank an' free,

Wi' heart sae leal, an' love sae true,

O weel he kens the way to woo;

At kirk an' fair he meets wi' me,

An' aye he's kind as kind can be,

For love is come o' gentle kin,

An' is to keep as weel's to win.

I'm blythe an' happy as ane can be,

The sun wad seem to shine for me—

There's nane may guess, an' nane shall ken,

The blissful hours we spent yestreen.

Though lads should come in scores to woo,

Though monarchs at my feet should bow,

I'll keep my heart an' fancy free,

For the blythsome lad o' bonnie Dundee.

[, "Sally Roy."—This is a hitherto unpublished song by, the author of "A wee bird cam' to our ha' door," &c. (see p. 80.)]

William swore the sacred oath,

That I my love had never weary;

And I gave him my virgin troth,

But now he's turn'd awa' frae Mary.