song; and while tradition is yet busy with the
singular history of her brother, song has taken all the care that rustic
minstrelsy can of the gentleness of her spirit and the charms of her
person."

"Now I vow," exclaimed a wandering piper, "by mine own honoured
instrument, and by all other instruments that ever yielded music for the
joy and delight of mankind, that there are more bonnie songs made about
fair Phemie Irving than about all other dames of Annandale, and many of
them are both high and bonnie. A proud lass maun she be if her spirit
hears; and men say the dust lies not insensible of beautiful verse; for
her charms are breathed through a thousand sweet lips, and no further
gone than yestermorn I heard a lass singing on a green hillside what I
shall not readily forget. If ye like to listen, ye shall judge; and it
will not stay the story long, nor mar it much, for it is short, and about
Phemie Irving." And, accordingly, he chanted the following rude verses,
not unaccompanied by his honoured instrument, as he called his pipe,
which chimed in with great effect, and gave richness to a voice which
felt better than it could express:--

FAIR PHEMIE IRVING.

Gay is thy glen, Corrie,
With all thy groves flowering;
Green is thy glen, Corrie,
When July is showering;
And sweet is yon wood where
The small birds are bowering,
And there dwells the sweet one
Whom I am adoring.

Her round neck is whiter
Than winter when snowing;
Her meek voice is milder
Than Ae in its flowing;
The glad ground yields music
Where she goes by the river;
One kind glance would charm me
For ever and ever.

The proud and the wealthy
To Phemie are bowing;
No looks of love win they
With sighing or suing;
Far away maun I stand
With my rude wooing,
She's a flow'ret too lovely
Too bloom for my pu'ing.

Oh were I yon violet
On which she is walking;
Oh were I yon small bird
To which she is talking;
Or yon rose in her hand,
With its ripe ruddy blossom;
Or some pure gentle thought
To be blest with her bosom.

This minstrel interruption, while it established Phemie Irving's claim to
grace and to beauty, gave me additional confidence to pursue the story.

"But minstrel skill and true love-tale seemed to want their usual
influence when they sought to win her attention; she was only observed