THE BONNY LASS O' GOWRIE.

Nae gentle bard e'er sang her praise,
'Cause fortune ne'er left dowrie;
The rose blaws sweetest in the shade,
So does the flower o' Gowrie.
When April strews her garlands roun',
She barefoot treads the flowrie;
Her sang gars a' the woodlands ring,
That shade the braes o' Gowrie.

Her modest blush an' downcast e'e,
A flame sent beating through me;
For she surpasses all I've seen,
This peerless flower o' Gowrie.

I've lain

upon the dewy green

Until the evening hourie,

An' thought 'gin ere I durst ca' mine,

The bonnie lass o' Gowrie.

The bushes that o'erhang the burn,
Sae verdant an' sae flowerie,

Can witness that I love alane,
The bonnie lass o' Gowrie.
Let ithers dream, an' sigh for wealth,
An' fashions fleet an' flowery,
Gie me that hamely innocence
Upon the braes o' Gowrie.

139

Revised from an old stall copy, which ascribes the composition of the original Ballad to a COL. JAMES RAMSAY of Stirling Castle.

THE EWE LAMB.

I'LL gie thee jewels, an' I'll gie thee rings,
I'll gie thee pearls, an' many fine things,

I'll gie thee silk petticoats fringed to the knee,
If thou'lt lea'e father an' mother, an' marry wi' me.

I'll nane
o' your jewels, I'll nane o' your rings,
I'll nane o' your pearlings nor ither fine things,
Nor skyrin silk petticoats fringed to the knee,
But I'll lea' father an' mother, an' marry wi' thee.

But
my father's a shepherd, wi' his flocks on yon hill,
Ye may gang to the auld man, an' ask his gude-will:
Indeed will I, Jeanie, an' bring answer to thee,
Sae, amang the berry-bushes 'gin gloamin meet me.

Good-morrow, old father! ye're feeding your flock;
Will you grant me a ewe-lamb to bring up a stock?
Indeed will I, Jamie, says he, frank an' free:
Sae, amang the berrie-bushes, my Jeanie met me.

How blyth look'd young Jamie, as he took her by the hand,
Syne up before the old man this young couple stand;
Says, this is the ewe-lamb that I ask'd of thee,

'Twas amang the berry-bushes this young thing met me.

O foul fa' thee, Jamie, thou hast me beguil'd,

I little thought the ewe-lamb thou ask'd was my child;
But since it is sae, that in love you agree,

My blessing gang wi' ye, my dochter, quoth he.

1

THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.

141

The foregoing Pastoral is noted down from recitation; one or two of the intermediate stanzas appear to be common with the North-country Ballad of the "Laird of Drum.” sweetly plaintive, and peculiar to itself.

The air is

THE YOUNG MAN'S DREAM.

WHEN wint❜ry storms keep yelling round,
By the blazing hearth we are oftenest found;
But in summer, when the fields are dry,
To the hunting goes my dog and I.

As my dog and I went down yon glen,
I smiled to a maiden who smiled again,
As tripping lightly o'er the bent,
To milk her ewes by the bughts she went.

O maiden mine, I have dream'd a dream;
Beneath the storm and the lightning's gleam,
I seem'd to lean on this branching oak,

When the black clouds met, and the tempest broke

Above my

lorn head, and fired the tree,

Where, chill'd and trembling thou clung by me;
Oh! deep and deathlike was thy swoon,

As the thunders peal'd, and the rains fell down.

Some kinder rain-drops than the rest,

On thy lily brow and scarce heaving breast,
Fell pattering down, and the deep swoon broke-
With a sigh and shiver, to life thou woke.

I kiss'd the cold drops off, one by one,
Till thou gazed on me as the sun

Burst through, and chased the dense clouds away,
And the closed flowers spread to the sunny day.

She smiled, and said, "When you dream again,
Some fairer vision may change your strain;
And wealth and beauty may meet your view-
So begone, young man, for I love not you:

I love no pears, I love no plums,

Nor dreams that fade when the morning comes;
But I love the cherry that grows on yon tree,
So does my true-love, where'er he be."

A few lines of "The Young Man's Dream," are adopted from an old free traditional Ballad, that has nearly faded from our recollection; while the rest is original. The air is common with a good many of our West-country chaunts of the same measure.

I once lov'd a maid, though she slighted me,
Because I had lately grown poor;
And she stole, before I wist it, my poor

And she'll keep it for ever more.

heart away,

I went to my love's chamber-door one night,
And I knock'd, her favour to win;

Without doubt my

love arose,

and slipp'd on her clothes,

Ere she came down to let me in.

THE SWAIN'S RESOLVE.

143

As soon as I saw my true-love's face,
My heart grew light and fain,

And I clasp'd her round the middle so small,
And kiss'd the dear maid again.

She cries to the cock, saying, thou must not crow,
Until that the day be worn;

And thy wings shall be made of the silvery gray,
And thy voice of the silver horn.

As homeward I hied o'er yon lofty hill,

The wind it blew high and cold,

Then I wish'd I were safe by my true-love's side again, Her fair form once more to enfold.

Oh I'll be as constant to my true love,

As the dial is to the sun;

And if she will not be the very same to me,

She is far better lost than won.

Noted down partly from recollection, but chiefly from the recitation of the gentleman who has favoured us with the Ballads of Lord Delaware, and the Ewe Lamb. The air is peculiarly lively and beautiful, and well merits preservation; which, along with the Ballad itself, seems peculiar to Ayrshire; and, so far as we are aware, neither the one nor the other have ever yet been committed to paper. The fourth stanza here, appears in common with one in the "Gray Cock," "Saw ye my Father," &c.; in other points the twain are different, whilst their respective melodies are altogether dissimilar.