THE

YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.

Tune-" Morag.”

I.

LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young Highland Rover Far wanders nations over. Where'er he go, where'er he stray, May heaven be his warden: Return him safe to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle-Gordon !

II.

The trees now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,
The birdies dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blithely singing,
And every flower be springing.

Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,
When by his mighty warden

My youth's returned to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon.

No one can have any difficulty in guessing whom the Poet desired to shadow forth under the name of the Young Highland Rover; but the fortunes of the Stuarts were not to be mended by either sword or song; a throne was passed from them, of which they were unworthy, and the heart of the nation was not on their side. Jacobitism was long worn as a sort of costume by families in the north; the ladies loved the white rose, and it is not improbable that her Grace the Duchess encouraged the Bard to wish Prince Charles back in Strathspey, and bonnie Castle-Gordon. Morag, the name of the air, corresponds with the lowland Marion. Songs, in which the white rose of jacobitism flourishes, Most of them have been collected into volumes, by my friend the Ettrick Shepherd: they are of various merit: some full of hope and heroics-others breathe vexation and anger, and many show deep sorrow-more particularly those which recited the sad fortunes of the exiled prince, and his suffering companions.

are numerous.

HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER.

Tune-" The Dusty Miller."

I.

HEY, the dusty miller,
And his dusty coat;
He will win a shilling,
Or he spend a groat.

Dusty was the coat,

Dusty was the colour,
Dusty was the kiss

That I got frae the miller.

II.

Hey, the dusty miller,

And his dusty sack;
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck.
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller;

I wad gie my coatie

For the dusty miller.

The millers of Scotland seem to have been favourites with the rustic muse; various songs in their honour are popular in the land. Our old bards had often recourse to the miller, to augment a squabble or increase the humour of their scenes. King James brings one upon the stage, in his truly dramatic poem of "Christ's Kirk on the Green." Ramsay, also, in his "Monk and the Miller's Wife," makes our dusty friend kind and opennanded. The miller of Dee, too, was a joyous and happy personage. The present strain was modified for the Museum by Burns, and is a very happy specimen of his skill and taste in emendation. Other verses may be found in our collections :

"Hey, the merry miller!

As the wheel rins roun',
An' the clapper claps,

My heart gies a stoun;
Water grinds the corn,
Water wins the siller;
When the dam is dry,

I daute wi' the miller.'

The air is cheerful like the words, and was in other days played as a single hornpipe in the Scottish dancing schools.

THERE WAS A LASS.

Tune-" Duncan Davison.”

I.

THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that follow'd her,

They ca'd him Duncan Davison.

The moor was driegh, and Meg was skiegh,
Her favour Duncan could na win;

For wi' the roke she wad him knock,
And ay she shook the temper-pin.

II.

As o'er the moor they lightly foor,
A burn was clear, a glen was green,
Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks,
And ay she set the wheel between :
But Duncan swore a haly aith,

That Meg should be a bride the morn
Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith,
And flang them a' out o'er the burn