r get aboon! [rejoice]
His Mailie's dead!

How long he continued to mourn for Ellison Begbie, it is hard to say;
but the three following songs, inspired, it would seem, by three
different girls, testify at once to his power of recuperation and the
rapid maturing of his talent. All seem to have been written between
the date of his return from Irvine and the death of his father.

MARY MORISON

O Mary, at thy window be,
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor:
How blythely wad I bide the stoure, [bear, struggle]
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string [Last night]
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha', [went]
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, [fine]
And yon the toast of a' the town, [the other]
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
'Ye are na Mary Morison.'

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee? [fault]
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown!
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

MY NANNIE O

Behind yon hills where Lugar flows,
'Mang moors an' mosses many, O,
The wintry sun the day has clos'd,
And I'll awa' to Nannie, O.

The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill, [western, keen]
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; [both dark]
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,
An' owre the hill to Nannie, O. [over]

My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young:
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O:
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O:
The opening gowan, wat wi' dew, [daisy, wet]
Nae purer is than Nannie, O.

A country lad is my degree,
An' few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few they be,
I'm welcome aye to Nan