7
Nor sad regret each courtly scene,
Where thou wast fairest of the fair?
O Nannie, canst thou love so true,
Thro‘ perils keen wi' me to gae?
Or when thy swain mishap shall rue,
To share with him the pang of wae.
And when invading pains befal,
Wilt thou assume the nurse's care,
Nor wishful those gay scenes recal,
Where thou wast fairest of the fair?
And when at last thy love shall die,
Wilt thou receive his parting breath?
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
And cheer with smiles the bed of death?
And wilt thou o'er his much-lov'd clay,
Strew flow'rs, and drop the tender tear?
Nor then regret those scenes so gay,
Where thou wast fairest of the fair?
HAL THE WOODMAN.
Stay, traveller, tarry here to-night,
The rain yet beats, the wind is loud,
The moon too has withdrawn her light,
And gone to sleep behind a cloud.
