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There is a time for holy song,
An hour for charm and spell,
In our blessed Ladye’s well.
Oh, thou wert born as fair a babe
As light e'er shone aboon, And fairer than the gowan is,
Born in the April moon ;
Syne like the violet wan;
So faded my fair Ann.
Was it a breath of evil wind
That harm’d thee, lovely child ? Or was't the fairy's charmèd touch
That all thy bloom detiled ? I've watched thee in the mirk midnicht,
And watch'd thee in the day, And sung our Ladye’s sacred song,
To keep the elves away.
The moon is sitting on the hill,
The nicht is in its prime,
The mark of witching time;
A silver cloud is drawn, And pure the blessed water is
To bathe thee, gentle ann.
On a fair sea thy father sails
Among the spicy isles :
And as he thinks he smiles ;
And severs swift the sea, About his Anna's sunny locks
And of her bricht blue ee.
THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY JEANNIE.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. From “ Cromek's Remains,"
Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeannie,
By that pretty white hand o' thine,
That thou wad aye be mine;
And by that kind heart o' thine,
That thou wad aye be mine.
Then foul fa’ the hands that loose sic bands,
And the heart that wad part sic love;
But the finger o’ God above.
And my claithing e'er sae mean,
Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean.
Her white arm wad be a pillow for me,
Fu’ safter than the down,
And sweetly I'll sleep an' soun'.
Come here and kneel wi' me;
The morn-wind is sweet ’mang the beds o' new flowers,
The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie ;
And a blythe auld bodie is he.
Wi' the holie psalmodie,
And I will speak o' thee.
Upon a simmer afternoon,
Cam'o'er the hills to Gowrie.
That ever bloom'd in Gowrie.
Nae thought had I to do her wrang,
I'll tak ye to my father's ha',
fields beside the shaw;
The brawest wife in Gowrie.”
My mither coft last new-year's day,
To keep me out o' Gowrie.
She stay'd na’ lang in Gowrie.”
I care for nought in Gowrie.
Warlock, or witch, in Gowrie.”
“O Pate, I'll stay in Gowrie !"
And now she's Lady Gowrie.
Founded upon an older ballad, by William Reid of Glasgow, entitled “ Kate of Gowrie.”
From the “Harp of Renfrewshire," 1820.
Where the rose in all her pride
Paints the hollow dingle's side,
Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie 0;
Where the glens rebound the call
Of the roaring waters' fall,
Oh, Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie 0,
There the May-pink's crimson plume
Throws a soft but sweet perfume
Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie 0,
Yet with fortune on my side,
I could stay thy father's pride,
But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie 0,
Ere yon golden orb of day
Wake the warblers on the spray,
Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie 0,
To the river winding clear,
To the fragrant-scented brier,
When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie 0,
Then, Helen, shouldst thou hear
Of thy lover on his bier,
The author of this celebrated song is Thomas Lyle, surgeon in Glasgow. The music arranged by R. A. Smith, composer of " Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane,” from the old Scottish melody, “ Bonnie lassie 0.”
Kelvin Grove is, or was, situated about two miles from Glasgow, but bids fair to be included within the bounds of that rapidly increasing city.