My Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy blissful place of rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

ROBERT BURNS.

XXX

THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN

"O wha will shoe my bonny foot?
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will lace my middle jimp
Wi' a lang, lang linen band?

"O wha will kame my yellow hair
With a new-made silver kame?
And wha will father my young son

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Till Lord Gregory come hame?"

Thy father will shoe thy bonny foot,
Thy mother will glove thy hand,
Thy sister will lace thy middle jimp,
Till Lord Gregory come to land.

Thy brother will kame thy yellow hair
With a new-made silver kame,

And God will be thy bairn's father
Till Lord Gregory come hame."

"But I will get a bonny boat, And I will sail the sea;

And I will gang to Lord Gregory,

Since he canna come hame to me."

Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat,
To sail the salt, salt sea:

The sails were o' the light green silk,
The tows1o' taffety.

She hadna sailed but twenty leagues,
But twenty leagues and three,
When she met wi' a rank robber,
And a' his company.

"Now whether are ye the queen hersell (For so ye weel might be),

Or are ye the lass o' Lochroyan,
Seekin' Lord Gregory?"

"O I am neither the queen," she said, "Nor sic I seem to be; But I am the lass of Lochroyan, Seekin' Lord Gregory."

"O see na thou yon bonny bower, It's a' covered o'er wi' tin?

When thou hast sailed it round about, Lord Gregory is within."

And when she saw the stately tower
Shining sae clear and bright,
Whilk stood aboon the jawing 2 wave,
Built on a rock of height,

Says "Row the boat, my mariners,
And bring me to the land!
For yonder I see my love's castle
Close by the salt sea strand."

1 Tows-ropes.

D

2 Jawing-dashing.

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She sailed it round, and sailed it round,
And loud, loud cried she-

Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,
And set my true love free!"

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gane;

And long she knocked, and sair she ca'd,

But answer got she nane.

"O open the door, Lord Gregory ! O open, and let me in!

For the wind blaws through my yellow hair, And the rain draps o'er my chin."

“Awa, awa, ye ill woman!

Ye're no come here for good!

Ye're but some witch, or wil' warlock,
Or mermaid o' the flood."

"I am neither witch, nor wil' warlock,
Nor mermaid o' the sea;

But I am Annie of Lochroyan;
O open the door to me!"

"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan (As I trow thou binna she),

Now tell me some o' the love tokens

That past between thee and me."

"O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,
As we sat at the wine,

We changed the rings frae our fingers,
And I can show thee mine?

"O yours was gude, and gude enough,
But aye the best was mine;

For yours was o' the gude red gowd,
But mine o' the diamond fine.

"Now, open the door, Lord Gregory! Open the door, I pray !

For thy young son is in my arms,

And will be dead ere day.'

"If thou be the lass of Lochroyan

(As I kenna thou be),

Tell me some mair o' the love tokens
Past between me and thee."

Fair Annie turned her round about-
"Weel, since that it be sae,

May never a woman, that has born a son,
Hae a heart sae fou o' wae!

"Take down, take down that mast o' gowd!

Set up a mast o' tree!

It disna become a forsaken lady

To sail sae royallie."

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,

And the sun began to peep,

Then up and raise him Lord Gregory,

And sair, sair did he weep.

"Oh, I hae dreamed a dream, mother,

I wish it may prove true!

That the bonny lass of Lochroyan
Was at the yate e'en now.

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Oh, I hae dreamed a dream, mother,
The thought o't gars me greet !
That fair Annie of Lochroyan

Lay cauld dead at my feet.”

"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan
That ye make a' this din,

She stood a' last night at your door,
But I trow she wan na in."

"O wae betide ye, ill woman!
An ill deid may ye dee!
That wadna open the door to her,
Nor yet wad waken me."

O he's gane down to yon shore side
As fast as he could fare;

He saw fair Annie in the boat,
But the wind it tossed her sair.

"And hey, Annie, and how, Annie !
O Annie, winna ye bide?"
But aye the mair he cried "Annie,”
The braider grew the tide.

"And hey, Annie, and how, Annie!
Dear Annie, speak to me!"

But aye the louder he cried "Annie,"
The louder roared the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dashed the boat on shore;

Fair Annie floated through the faem,
But the babie raise no more.