How blest the breeze's balmy sighs, Let Athole boast her birchen bowers, Wild Ettrick boasts a blyther scene; May health still cheer her beauteous face, And all her griefs shall give me pain, The bonny lass of Deloraine. ["Written on one of the flowers of the forest near thirty years ago."-HOGG, 1831.] THE MOON WAS A-WANING. JAMES HOGG. The moon was a-waning, The tempest was over; Fair was the maiden, And fond was the lover; But the snow was so deep, That his heart it grew weary, And he sunk down to sleep, Soft was the bed She had made for her lover, White were the sheets, And embroidered the cover; But his sheets are more white, And his canopy grander, And sounder he sleeps Where the hill foxes wander. Alas! pretty maiden, What sorrows attend you! I see you sit shivering, With lights at your window; But long may you wait Ere your arms shall enclose him, For still, still he lies, With a wreath on his bosom ! How painful the task The sad tidings to tell you! Ere this misery befell you; Where the dead-tapers hover, So cold, cold and wan Lies the corpse of your lover! [" One of the songs of my youth, written long ere I threw aside the shepherd's plaid, and took farewell of my trusty colley, for the bard's perilous and thankless occupation."-HOGG, 1831.] O, JEANIE, THERE'S NAETHING TO FEAR YE! JAMES HOGG. O, my lassie, our joy to complete again, Beauty and innocence : O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye! Sweetly blows the haw an' the rowan-tree, List when the blackbird o' singing grows weary, Light foot, an' beating breast :- O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye! Far, far will the bogle and brownie be; A' maun love it, and a' maun revere it. Love maks the sang o' the woodland sae cheerie, Love gars a' Nature look bonnie that's near ye; Love maks the rose sae sweet, Cowslip and violet : O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye! ["By far the most popular love song I ever wrote."-HOGG.] WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME. JAMES HOGG. Come all ye jolly shepherds That whistle through the glen, I'll tell ye of a secret That courtiers dinna ken: What is the greatest bliss That the tongue o' man can name? Tis to woo a bonny lassie When the kye comes hame. When the kye comes hame, 'Tis not beneath the coronet, 'Tis not on couch of velvet, Then he pours his melting ditty, When the blewart bears a pearl, Then the lavrock frae the blue lift, See yonder pawky shepherd And his lambs are lying still; |