The shadow of our trysting bush I coft yestreen frae chapman Tam And promised, when our trysting cam, To tye it round her brow. Oh no! sad and slow! The time it winna pass; The shadow of that weary thorn She's past the witches' knowe; She's climbing up the brownie's brae My heart is in a lowe! Oh no! 'tis not so! 'Tis glaumrie I hae seen; The shadow of the hawthorn bush Will move nae mair till e'en. My book of grace I'll try to read, When Colley barks I'll raise my head, Oh, no! sad and slow! The time will ne'er be gane; The shadow of the trysting bush Is fix'd like ony stane. CARLE, NOW THE KING'S COME! SIR WALTER SCOTT. The news has flown frae mouth to mouth, Carle, now the King's come! Auld England held him lang and fast; But Scotland's turn is come at last Carle, now the King's come! Auld Reikie, in her rokela gray, Thought never to have seen the day; He's been a weary time away But, Carle, now the King's come! She's skirling frae the Castle-hill; The Carline's voice is grown sae shrill Ye'll hear her at the Canon-mill, Carle, now the King's come! Up, bairns! she cries, baith grit and sma', Carle, now the King's come! Come from Newbattle's ancient spires, Bauld Lothian, with your knights and squires, And match the metal of your sires, Carle, now the King's come! You're welcome hame, my Montague! Bring in your hand the young Buccleuch ; I'm missing some that I may rue, Carle, now the King's come! Come, Haddington, the kind and gay, You've graced my causeway mony a day ; Carle, now the King's come! Come premier duke, and carry doun, your But, Carle, now the King's come! Come, Athole, from the hill and wood, Come, Tweeddale, true as sword to sheath; Carle, now the King's come! Come, stately Niddrie, auld and true, Carle, now the King's come! King Arthur's grown a common crier, Carle, now the King's come! Saint Abb roars out, I see him pass Carle, now the King's come! The Carline stopp'd; and, sure I am, For very glee had ta'en a dwam, But Oman help'd her to a dram Carle, now the King's come! DONALD MACDONALD. JAMES HOGG. My name it is Donald Macdonald, When ranked amang the blue bonnets, Nae danger can fear me ava; I ken that my brethren around me Brochen an' brogues an' a'; An' is na the laddie weel aff, Wha has brogues an' brochen an' a’? Short syne we were wonderfu' cantie Wherever our king has a foe, He'll quickly see Donald Macdonald, Wi' his highlanders a' in a row. Guns an' pistols an' a', Pistols an' guns an' a' ; He'll quickly see Donald Macdonald, What though we befriendit young To tell it I dinna think shame ; Poor lad! he cam' to us but barely, Charlie ? And reckon'd our mountains his hame. "Tis true that our reason forbade us, |