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SONG XXXVII.

I GAED A WAEFU' GATE, &c.

AIR. THE BLATHRIE O'T.

I.

I GAED a waefu' gate, yestreen,
A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue;
I gat my death frae twa sweet e'en,
Twa lovely e'en o' bonnie blue.
'Twas not her golden ringlets bright;
Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,
Her heaving bosom, lily-white-
It was her e'en sae bonnie blue.

II.

She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd, She charm'd my soul I wist na how; And ay the stound, the deadly wound,

Cam frae her e'en sae bonnie blue.

But spare to speak, and spare to speed;
She'll aiblins listen to my vow :
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead

To her twa e'en sae bonnie blue *.

*The heroine of this song was Miss J. of Lochmaban. This lady, now Mrs R., after residing some time in Liverpool, is settled with her husband in New-York, North America.

SONG XXXVIII.

THE THAMES FLOWS PROUDLY, &c.

AIR.-ROBIE DONNA GORACH.

I.

THE Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;

But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,

Where Cummins ance had high command:

When shall I see that honor'd land,

That winding stream I love so dear!

Must wayward fortune's adverse hand
For ever, ever keep me here.

II.

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,

Where spreading hawthorns gayly bloom;

How sweetly wind thy sloping dales

Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!

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Tho' wandering, now, must be my doom, Far from thy bonnie banks and braes, May there my latest hours consume, Amang the friends of early days!

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