Blythe, blythe and merry was she, And blythe in Glenturit glen. By Oughtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks the birken shaw; But Phemie was a bonnier lass Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. Her looks were like a flower in May, She tripped by the banks of Ern, Her Her bonnie face it was as meek The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. The Highland hills I've wander❜d wide, But Phemie was the blythest lass A ROSE-BUD ( A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK. A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, Within the bush, her covert nest She soon shall see her tender brood So So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair, So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay, WHERE * This song was written during the winter of 1787. Miss J. C. daughter of a friend of the Bard, is the heroine. WHERE braving angry winter's storms, The lofty Ochels rise, Far in their shade my Peggy's charms Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade, Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd, When first I felt their power! The |