That, for themsels, nae coft they'll spare

To mak them braw; Than maun ye tell, wi wit and care,

They're bony a';

They'll a' be there, the kintry 'round
Our Eskdale laflies say they're bound.
-Ye'd need to be a wylie loon,

Like ye'r ain lays,
Or, trowth, I dread they will ye drown

Wi' fowth o' praise.

Lang may ye fing, weel may ye phraze,
Ha'e rowth and plenty a' ye'r days ;
And I fall

gar
a' our green braes

Ken weel ye'r name ;
I'm sure ye still fall ha'e the praise

Of

ESKDALE TAM. Laogholm.

THE

HE wind blew hollow frae the hills, By fits the sun's departing beam Look'd on the fading yellow woods

That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream: Beneath a craigy steep, a Barc,

Laden with years and meikle pain,
In loud lament bewail'd his lord,

Whom death had all untimely ta’en.
Vol. II.

с

He lean'd him to an ancient aik,

Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years ; His locks were bleached white with time,

His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears ; And as he touch'd his trembling barp,

And as he tuned his doleful sang, The winds, lamenting thro' their caves,

To echo bore the notes alang.

• Ye scatter'd birds that faintly fing

• The reliques of the vernal quire; • Ye woods that shed on a'the winds

- The honours of the aged year, • A few short months, and glad and gay,

Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e; ! But nocht in all-revolving time

6 Can gladness bring again to me.

. I am a bending aged tree,

That long has stood the wind and rain;
• But now has come a cruel blast,
$ And

my
last hald of earth is

gane :
. Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring,
• Nae fimmer sun exalt

my

bloom ; But I maun lie before the storm, • And ithers plant them in

my room.

I've seen sae mony changefu' years,

« On earth I am a stranger grown: # I wander in the

ways

of

meng
Akke unknowing and unknown:

Unheard, unpitied, unreliev'd,

" I bear alane my lade o' care, • For filent, low, on beds of dust,

• Lie a' that would my sorrows share.

And last, (the sum of a' my griefs!)
• My noble master lies in clay;
The flower amạng our barons bold,

· His country's pride, his country's stay: . In weary being now I pine,

· For all the life of life is dead, • And hope has left my aged ken,

« On forward wing for ever fled.

« Awake thy last fad voice, my barp;

• The voice of woe and wild despair! - Awake, resound thy latest lay,

· Then sleep in filence evermair! « And thou, my last, best, only friend,

That filleft an untimely tomb, • Accept this tribute from the Bard

• Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.

• In Poverty's low barren vale,

• Thick mists, obscure, involv'd me round; • Though oft I turned the willful eye, « Nae

ray

of fame was to be found : • Thou found'st me, like the morning sun

. That melts the fogs in limpid air, The friendless Bard and rustic song, • Became alike thy foitering care.

O! why hạs worth so short a date !

• While villains ripen grey with time! . Must thou, the noble, generous, great,

« Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime ! Why did I live to fee that day?

6 A day to me so full of woe ! 6 O! had I met the mortal shaft

• Which laid my benefactor low!

• The bridegroom may forget the bride,

6 Was made his wedded wife yeftreen; • The monarch may forget the crown

• That on his head an hour has been ; • The mother may forget the child

“That smiles fae fweetly on her knee ; & But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,

And a' that thou haft done for me!'