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I told her how he pined: and, ah!
Interpreted my own.
She listen’d with a flitting blush,
Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,
In green and sunny glade, ---
There came, and look'd him in the face',
This miserable Knight!
And that, unknowing what he did.
The Lady of the Land ;
And how she wept and clasp'd his knees,
The scorn that crazed his brain :
And that she nursed him in a cave;
A dying man he lay ;
His dying words--but when I reach'd
Disturb'd her soul with pity!
All impulses of soul and sense
The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
Subdued and cherish'd long!
She wept with pity and delight,
I heard her breathe my name.
Her bosom heaved-she stept aside ;
She fled to me, and wept.
She half inclosed me with her arms, She press'd me with a meek embrace ; And, bending back her head, look'd up
And gazed upon my face.
'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art That I might rather feel, than see,
The swelling of her heart.
I calm’d her fears; and she was calm,
My bright and beauteous Bride!
FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
I've seen the smiling
Of Fortune beguiling :
Sweet was its blessing,
Kind its caressing;
I've seen the forest
Adorned the foremost With flowers of the fairest most pleasant and gay ;
Sae bonnie was their blooming !
Their scent the air perfuming!
I've seen the morning
With gold the hills adorning,
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
I've seen Tweed's silver streams
Shining in the sunny beams, Grow drumly and dark as he row'd on his way.
Oh, fickle Fortune,
Why this cruel sporting? Oh, why still perplex us, poor sons of a day :
Nae mair your smiles can cheer me,
Nae mair your frowns can fear me; For the Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. YARROW UNVISITED.
From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravell’d;
And with the Tweed had travellid;
“ Winsome marrow," “Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow."
Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk Town,
Who have been buying, selling,
Each maiden to her dwelling!
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.
“ There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us; And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus; There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land
Made blythe with plough and harrow : Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow ?