THE BONNY LASS O' GOWRIE. Nae gentle bard e'er sang her praise, Her modest blush an' downcast e'e, I've lain upon the dewy green Until the evening hourie, An' thought 'gin ere I durst ca' mine, The bonnie lass o' Gowrie. The bushes that o'erhang the burn, Can witness that I love alane, 139 Revised from an old stall copy, which ascribes the composition of the original Ballad to a COL. JAMES RAMSAY of Stirling Castle. THE EWE LAMB. I'LL gie thee jewels, an' I'll gie thee rings, I'll gie thee silk petticoats fringed to the knee, I'll nane But Good-morrow, old father! ye're feeding your flock; How blyth look'd young Jamie, as he took her by the hand, 'Twas amang the berry-bushes this young thing met me. O foul fa' thee, Jamie, thou hast me beguil'd, I little thought the ewe-lamb thou ask'd was my child; My blessing gang wi' ye, my dochter, quoth he. 1 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.” sweetly plaintive, and peculiar to itself. The air is THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM. WHEN wint❜ry storms keep yelling round, As my dog and I went down yon glen, O maiden mine, I have dream'd a dream; 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; 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, I kiss'd the cold drops off, one by one, Burst through, and chased the dense clouds away, She smiled, and said, "When you dream again, I love no pears, I love no plums, Nor dreams that fade when the morning comes; 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. I once lov'd a maid, though she slighted me, And she'll keep it for ever more. heart away, I went to my love's chamber-door one night, 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, And I clasp'd her round the middle so small, She cries to the cock, saying, thou must not crow, And thy wings shall be made of the silvery gray, 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. |