THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL. MRS. DUGALD STEWART, wife of the philosopher. From "Johnson's Museum," 1792. THE tears I shed must ever fall,— I mourn not for an absent swain; I weep not for the silent dead, Their toils are past, their sorrows o'er ; And those they loved their steps shall tread, And death shall join to part no more. Though boundless oceans roll'd between, But bitter, bitter are the tears Of her who slighted love bewails; The flattering veil is rent aside, The flame of love burns to destroy. In vain does memory renew The hours once tinged in transport's dye; The sad reverse soon starts to view, And turns the past to agony. E'en time itself despairs to cure Those pangs to every feeling due : No cold approach, no alter'd mien, Just what would make suspicion start; He made me blest-and broke my heart.* JOHN EWEN, merchant, Aberdeen, born 1741, died 1821.-C. R. Он, weel may the boatie row, And better may she speed; And weel may the boatie row That wins the bairns' bread. I coost my line in Largo Bay, The first four lines of the last stanza are by Burns.-C. R. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot o' a' Wha wishes her to speed. Oh, weel may the boatie row, And buys our parritch meal. And happy be the lot o' a' That wish the boatie speed. When Jamie vow'd he wad be mine, And muckle lighter is the load My kurtch I put upo' my head, I trow my heart was dowf and wae, But weel may the boatie row, And lucky be her part, And lightsome be the lassie's care When Sawnie, Jock, and Janetie, The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fu' weel; And lightsome be her heart that bears The murlain and the creel! And when wi' age we're worn down, Then weel may the boatie row That wins the bairns' bread, And happy be the lot o' a' That with the boatie speed! The author of this song, Mr. John Ewen, ironmonger in Aberdeen, died on the 21st October, 1821, in his eightieth year. He bequeathed his fortune of £16,000 to found and endow an hospital for children at Montrose, of which place he was a native. In this settlement he entirely overlooked his daughter, who married, as he thought imprudently. An action was raised for the reduction of the will; it was carried in the House of Lords.-C. R. LIZZY LINDSAY. From "Johnson's Museum," 1787. Air-"The Ewe-Bughts." "To gang to the Highlands wi' you, sir, For I ken nae the land that ye live in, "O Lizzy lass, ye maun ken little, For my name is Lord Roland MacDonald, She has kilted her coats o' green satin, She has kilted them up to the knee, His bride and his darling to be. There is another and more modern version of this song by Mr. Robert Gilfillan, which appears in some collections of Scottish songs. AULD ROBIN GRAY.* LADY ANNE LINDSAY. YOUNG Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride, He hadna been gane a week but only twa, When my mither she fell sick, and the cow was stown awa', My father brak his arm, and my Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray cam' a-courting to me. My father cou❜dna work, and my mither cou❜dna spin; My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it proved a wreck; My father urged me sair; my mither didna speak, I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sae mournfully ae day at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I cou'dna think it he, "This pathetic ballad, of which the authorship was long a mystery, was written by Lady Anne Lindsay, daughter of the Earl of Balcarras, and afterwards Lady Barnard. It appears to have been composed at the commencement of the year 1772, when the author was yet a young girl. It was published anonymously, and acquired great popularity. No one, however, came forward to lay claim to the laurels lavished upon it; and a literary controversy sprung up to decide the authorship. Many conjectured that it was as old as the days of David Rizzio, if not composed by that unfortunate minstrel himself; while others considered it of a much later date. The real author was, however, suspected; and ultimately, when she was an old woman, Sir Walter Scott received a letter from Lady Anne herself, openly avowing that she had written it. She stated that she had been long suspected by her more intimate friends, and often questioned with respect to the mysterious ballad, but that she had always managed to keep her secret to herself without a direct and absolute denial. She was induced to write the song by a desire to see an old plaintive Scottish air ("The bridegroom grat when the sun gaed down"), which was a favourite with her, fitted with |