her instrument, and receiving an assenting look from Lord Menteith and Allan, she executed the following ballad, which our friend, Mr Secundus M'Pherson, whose goodness we had before to acknowledge, has thus translated into the English tongue:
THE ORPHAN MAID.
November's hail-cloud drifts away,
November's sun-beam wan
Looks coldly on the castle grey,
When forth comes Lady Anne.
The orphan by the oak was set,
Her arms, her feet, were bare,
The hail-drops had not melted yet,
Amid her raven hair.
"And, dame," she said, "by all the ties
That child and mother know,
Aid one who never knew these joys,
Relieve an orphan's woe."
The lady said, "An orphan's state
Is hard and sad to bear;
Yet worse the widow'd mother's fate,
Who mourns both lord and heir.
