The Book of Scottish Song/O'er hill and dale roamin'

O'er hill and dale roamin'.

O'er hill and dale roamin', at day dawn or gloamin',
At kirk, or at market, or dance on the green,
Now Rosa's beauty praisin', now sad and silent gazin',
Now sighin' and vowin', young Donald was seen.
With frowns she met his glances, with sneers his fond advances,
She laugh'd when he spak' with the tear in his e'e,
And sprung away flauntin', some idle chorus chauntin',
Whene'er he sigh'd "Rosa! thou'rt dear, dear to me."

The youth tir'd with doubtin', and teaz'd by her floutin',
Grew proud, and resented her scorning ere long,
No more fond vows breathing—for others wild flowers wreathing,
He mark'd not her beauty, nor thrill'd at her song.
Though her neck was the whitest, her blue eyes the brightest,
He vaunted of maiden's more lovely than she;
Whose eyes tender languish would charm all his anguish,
And sigh'd no more "Rosa, thou'rt dear, dear to me."

Proud hearts will be changing, soon Rosa was ranging,
Pale, waesome, and weeping, and ghaist-hko alane,
Through scenes that once delighted, though now lone and blighted,
Unblest by the vows she might ne'er hear again.
But, ah! love's not thrown off, as spring-flowers are blown off,
Her truant was waitin' beside the hawthorn tree;
He threw his arms around her, and oh! so kind he found her,
They murmur'd together, "Thou'rt dear, dear to me."

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