My faither's gane to fecht for him, My mither greets and prays for them, The Whigs may scoff, the Whigs may jeer, His right these hills, his right these plains; Sae noble a look, sae princely an air, He's ower the hills that I lo'e weel; 332 THE AULD HOUSE Он, the auld house, the auld house! Oh, the auld laird, the auld laird, His ain wee dear auld house! And the leddy, too, sae genty, That sheltered Scotland's heir, And clipt a lock wi' her ain hand Frae his lang yellow hair. The mavis still doth sweetly sing, Deserted though ye be, There ne'er can be a new house Still flourishing the auld pear tree, The merry shout-oh! whiles we greet For they are a' wide scattered now, And ane, alas! to her lang hame; The setting sun, the setting sun, The cloudy splendour raised our hearts The auld dial, the auld dial, It tauld how time did pass; The wintry winds ha'e dung it doun, 333 THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN THE Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud and he's great Down by the dyke'-side a lady did dwell; His wig was weel pouther'd' and as gude as new; He took the grey mare, and rade cannily,* Mistress Jean was makin' the elder-flower wine: And when she cam' ben he bowed fu' low; Dumfounder'd was he; but nae sigh did he gi'e, And now that the Laird his exit had made, Next time that the Laird and the lady were seen, 334 1 THE ROWAN TREE O ROWAN1 tree, O rowan tree! thou'lt aye be dear to me! Intwined thou art wi' mony ties o' hame and infancy. Thy leaves were aye the first o' spring, thy flowers the simmer's pride; There wasna sic' a bonnie tree in a' the country side. O rowan tree! How fair wert thou in simmer time, wi' a' thy clusters white, How rich and gay thy autumn dress, wi' berries red and bright! On thy fair stem were mony names which now nae mair I see, But they're engraven on my heart-forgot they ne'er can be! O rowan tree! We sat aneath thy spreading shade, the bairnies round thee ran, They pu'd thy bonnie berries red, and necklaces they strang. My mother! O I see her still, she smiled our sports to see, Wi' little Jeanie on her lap, and Jamie at her knee. O rowan tree! O there arose my father's prayer, in holy evening's calm; How sweet was then my mother's voice in the Martyr's psalm! Now a' are gane! we meet na mair aneath the rowan tree! But hallowed thoughts around thee twine o' hame and infancy. O rowan tree! 335 WHA'LL BE KING BUT CHARLIE? THE news frae Moidart cam' yestreen,' For ships o' war hae just come in, Come thro' the heather, around him gather, Around him cling wi' a' your kin; For wha'll be king but Charlie? Come thro' the heather, around him gather, For wha'll be king but Charlie? The Hieland clans, wi' sword in hand, Hae to a man declared to stand The Lowlands a', baith great an sma', There's ne'er a lass in a' the lan, Then here's a health to Charlie's cause, His very name our heart's blood warms; 1 Last night. 2 Wonder. Together. • Ask. |