A SONG.
(IN IMITATION OF THE SCOTCH.)
Wha is it that caemeth sae blithe and sae swift,
His bonnet is far frae his flaxen hair lift,
His dark een ro]ls gladsome, i' the breeze floats his plaid,
And surely he bringeth nae news that is sad
Ah! say, bonny. stranger, whence caemest thou now?
The tiny drop trickles frae off thy dark brow.
His bonnet is far frae his flaxen hair lift,
His dark een ro]ls gladsome, i' the breeze floats his plaid,
And surely he bringeth nae news that is sad
Ah! say, bonny. stranger, whence caemest thou now?
The tiny drop trickles frae off thy dark brow.
"I come;" 'said the stranger, "to spier my lued hame,
And see if my Marion still were the same;
I hae been to the battle, where thousands hae bled,
And chieftains fu' proud are wi' mean peasants laid;
I hae fought for my, country, for freedom, and fame,
And now I'm returning wi' speed to my hame."
And see if my Marion still were the same;
I hae been to the battle, where thousands hae bled,
And chieftains fu' proud are wi' mean peasants laid;
I hae fought for my, country, for freedom, and fame,
And now I'm returning wi' speed to my hame."
"Gude Sp1r1t of Light!" ('twas a voice caught his ear)
"And is it me ain Norman's accents I hear?
And has the fierce Southron then left me my child!
Or am I wi' sair; sair anxiety wild?"
He turned to behold—'tis his mother he sees!
He flies to embrace her—he falls on his knees.
"And is it me ain Norman's accents I hear?
And has the fierce Southron then left me my child!
Or am I wi' sair; sair anxiety wild?"
He turned to behold—'tis his mother he sees!
He flies to embrace her—he falls on his knees.
"O! where is my father?" a tear trickled down,
And silently moistened the warrior's cheek brown;
And silently moistened the warrior's cheek brown;
