THE BONNIE HOUSE O' AIRLY.

Air-" The house of Airly."

Ir fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
When the corn grew green and rarely,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airly.

The Duke o' Montrose has written to Argyle
To come in the morning early,

An' lead in his men, by the back of Dunkeld,
To plunder the bonnie house o' Airly.

The lady look'd o'er her window sae hie,
And, oh, but she look'd weary;

And there she espied the great Argyle

Come to plunder the bonnie house o' Airly.

"Come down, come down, Lady Margaret," he says, "Come down and kiss me fairly,

Or before the morning clear daylight,

I'll no leave a standing stane in Airly."

"I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,

I wadna kiss thee fairly;

I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,

Gin you shouldna leave a standing stane in Airly."

He has ta'en her by the middle sae sma',
Says, "Lady, where is your drury?"
"It's up and down the bonnie burn-side,
Amang the planting of Airly."

They sought it up, they sought it down,
They sought it late and early,

And found it in the bonnie balm-tree

That shines on the bowling-green o' Airly.

He has ta'en her by the left shoulder,

And, oh, but she grat sairly,
And led her down to yon green bank

Till he plunder'd the bonnie house o' Airly.

"Oh, it's I hae seven braw sons," she says,
"And the youngest ne'er saw his daddie;
And although I had as mony mae,

I wad gie them a' to Charlie.

But gin my good lord had been at hame,
As this night he is wi' Charlie,

There durst na a Campbell in a' the west

Hae plunder'd the bonnie house o' Airly."

This song was recovered from oral tradition, and first printed towards the close of the last century. It narrates an episode of the civil wars of the Covenant, and the destruction of the castle of Airly, in Forfarshire, the seat of the Ogilvies, Earls of Airly, by the Earl of Argyle.

BANNOCKS O' BARLEY.

From "Johnson's Musical Museum."

BANNOCKS O' bear-meal, bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley!
Wha in a brulyie will first cry a parley?
Never the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley!
Bannocks o' bear-meal, bannocks o' barley,

Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley!

Wha in his wae days were loyal to Charlie ?
Wha but the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley?
Bannocks o' bear-meal, bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley!

QUEEN MARY'S LAMENT.

BURNS.

Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On ilka blooming tree,

And spreads her sheets o' daisies white

Out ower the grassy lea.

Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,

And glads the azure skies,

But nocht can glad the weary wicht

That fast in durance lies.

Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose doun the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
And milk-white is the slae.

Now laverocks wake the merry morn
Aloft on dewy wing,

The merle in his noontide bower
Makes woodland echoes ring.

The mavis mild, wi' mony a note,
Sings drowsy day to rest;
In love and freedom they rejoice,
Wi' care nor thrall oppress'd.

The meanest hind in fair Scotland
May rove these sweets amang;
But I, the queen o' a' Scotland,
Maun lie in prison strang.

But as for thee, thou false woman,

My sister and my fae,

Grim vengeance yet shall whet a sword

That through thy soul shall gae.

The weeping blood in woman's breast

Was never known to thee,

Nor the balm that draps on wounds of woe From woman's pitying ee.

My son, my son, may kinder stars

Upon thy fortune shine;

And may those pleasures gild thy reign

That ne'er would blink on mine!

God keep thee frae thy mother's faes,
Or turn their hearts to thee;

And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend,
Remember him for me.

Oh, soon to me may summer sun
Nae mair licht up the morn;
Nae mair to me the autumn winds
Wave o'er the yellow corn!

And in the narrow house o' death
Let winter round me rave,

And the next flowers that deck the spring
Bloom on my peaceful grave.

LORD GREGORY.

BURNS.

Oн, mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar !
A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tow'r,-
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for loving thee;

At least some pity on me shaw,

If love it mayna be.

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove,

By bonnie Irwine side,

Where first I own'd that virgin-love

I lang, lang had denied?

How aften didst thou pledge and vow
Thou wad for aye be mine!

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast:

Thou dart of heaven that flashest by,
Oh, wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see;

But spare and pardon my fause love
His wrangs to heaven and me!

BESSY AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL.

BURNS. Air-" The bottom of the punch-bowl."

Он, leeze me on my spinning-wheel!
Oh, leeze me on my rock and reel !
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en.
I'll set me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sun,
Blest wi' content and milk and meal-
Oh, leeze me on my spinning-wheel!

On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot;
The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest

And little fishes caller rest;

The sun blinks kindly in the biel'
Where blythe I turn my spinning-wheel.

On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the doolfu' tale;
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays;
The craik amang the claver hay,
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.