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For ever now, O Yarrow stream !
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow;
For never on thy banks shall I
Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow.
He promised me a milk-white steed
To bear me to his father's bowers;
He promised me a little page
To squire me to his father's towers ;
He promised me a wedding-ring, -
The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow ;-
Now he is wedded to his grave,
Alas, his watery grave, in Yarrow !
Sweet were his words when last we met ;
My passion I as freely told him ;
Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought
That I should never more behold him !
Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost;
It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow;
Thrice did the water-wraith ascend,
And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow.
His mother from the window look'd
With all the longing of a mother;
His little sister weeping walk'd
The green-wood path to meet her brother ;
They sought him east, they sought him west,
They sought him all the forest thorough ;
They only saw the cloud of night,
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
No longer from thy window look-
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother !
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas, thou hast no more a brother!
No longer seek him east or west
And search no more the forest thorough;
For, wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.
The tear shall never leave my cheek,
No other youth shall be my marrow-

I'll seek thy body in the stream,
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow.
- The tear did never leave her cheek,
No other youth became her marrow ;
She found his body in the stream,
And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.

7. Logan

CXXVIII

WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW

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Down in yon garden sweet and gay

Where bonnie grows the lily, I heard a fair maid sighing say

• My wish be wi' sweet Willie ! « Willie's rare,

and Willie's fair, And Willie's wondrous bonny ; And Willie hecht to marry me

Gin e'er he married ony.

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() gentle wind, that bloweth south,

From where my Love repaireth, Convey a kiss frae his dear mouth

And tell me how he fareth !

• O tell sweet Willie to come doun

And hear the mavis singing, And see the birds on ilka bush

And leaves around them hinging. * The lav'rock there, wi' her white breast

And gentle throat sae narrow ;
There's sport eneuch for gentlemen

On Leader haughs and Yarrow.
O Leader haughs are wide and braid

And Yarrow haughs are bonny ;
There Willie hecht to marry me

If e'er he married ony.

• But Willie's gone, whom I thought on,

And does not hear me weeping ; Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e

When other maids are sleeping. · Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,

The night I'll mak’ it narrow, For a' the live-lang winter night

I lie twined o' my marrow.
• O came ye by yon water-side ?

Pou'd you the rose or lily?
Or came you by yon meadow green,

Or saw you my sweet Willie ?'
She sought him up, she sought him down,

She sought him braid and narrow;
Syne, in the cleaving of a craig,
She found him drown'd in Yarrow !

Anon.

CXXIX

LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE

Toll for the Brave !
The brave that are no more !
All sunk beneath the wave
Fast by their native shore !
Eight hundred of the brave
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel
And laid her on her side.

A land-breeze shook the shrouds
And she was overset ;
Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.
Toll for the brave !
Brave Kempenfelt is gone ;
His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.

It was not in the battle ;
No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak,
She ran upon no rock.
His sword was in its sheath,
His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfelt went down
With twice four hundred men.
Weigh the vessel up
Once dreaded by our foes !
And mingle with our cup
The tear that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound,
And she may float again
Full charged with England's thunder,
And plough the distant main :
But Kempenfelt is gone,
His victories are o’er;
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the wave no more.

W. Cowper

CXXX

BLACK-EYED SUSAN

All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,

The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard ;

O! where shall I my true-love find ?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true
If my sweet William sails among the crew.
William, who high upon the yard

Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard

He sigh’d, and cast his eyes below : The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,

And drops at once into her nest :-
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.
O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain ;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. * Believe not what the landmen say

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind :
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find :
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
• If to fair India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.
'Though battle call me from thy arms

Let not my pretty Susan mourn ;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms

William shall to his Dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.' The boatswain gave the dreadful word,

The sails their swelling bosom spread ; No longer must she stay aboard ;

They kiss'd, she sigh’d, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land ; “Adieu !' she cries ; and waved her lily hand.

7. Gay

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