There is a time for holy song, And now's the time to bathe my babe Oh, thou wert born as fair a babe 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 defiled? 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. On a fair sea thy father sails Among the spicy isles: He thinks on thee, he thinks on me, And as he thinks he smiles; And sings, while he his white sail trims, And severs swift the sea, About his Anna's sunny locks And of her bricht blue ee. O blessed fountain, give her back THOU HAST SWORN BY THY GOD, MY JEANNIE. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. From "Cromek's Remains," THOU hast sworn by thy God, my Jeannie, And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeannie, By a' the stars sown thick ower heaven, Then foul fa' the hands that loose sic bands, Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve, Her white arm wad be a pillow for me, Fu' safter than the down, And luve wad winnow ower us his kind, kind wings, And sweetly I'll sleep an' soun'. Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve, Come here and kneel wi' me; The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God, And I canna pray without thee. The morn-wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers, The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie ; Our gudeman leans owre his kale-yard dyke, And a blythe auld bodie is he. The Beuk maun be taen whan the carle comes hame Wi' the holie psalmodie, And thou maun speak o' me to thy God, And I will speak o' thee. UPON a simmer afternoon, A wee before the sun gade down, Cam' o'er the hills to Gowrie. The rose-bud, tinged with morning show`r, Nae thought had I to do her wrang, k I'll tak ye to my father's ha', The brawest wife in Gowrie." "A silken gown o' siller gray My mither coft last new-year's day, To keep me out o' Gowrie. Daft Will short syne cam' courting Nell, "Sic thoughts, dear Katie, ill combine Saft kisses on her lips I laid, The blush upon her cheeks soon spread, "O Pate, I'll stay in Gowrie!" Wha ty'd them to their heart's content, Founded upon an older ballad, by William Reid of Glasgow, entitled "Kate o Gowrie." KELVIN GROVE. From the "Harp of Renfrewshire," 1820. LET us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie 0; Paints the hollow dingle's side, Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie 0. Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie O; Of the roaring waters' fall, Through the mountain's rocky hall, bonnie lassie O. Oh, Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie O, Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie O. Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie O, I could stay thy father's pride, And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie O. But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie O, Wake the warblers on the spray, From this land I must away, bonnie lassie O. Then farewell to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie O, To the fragrant-scented brier, Even to thee, of all most dear, bonnie lassie O. When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie O, Of thy lover on his bier, To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie O. 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 O." 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. |