SCOTCH SONGS, She whbper'd hopes of' happiness And tales of distant land: My* ? had been a wilderness, Unblest by fortune's gale? Had not fate !ink'd my lot to her?-- The Roze of Allandale. THE BRAE8 OF BAIXtUITHEIL LET us go, lassie, ?, To the Braes of alquither, ?/?oere the blue-berries grow 'Mong bonnie Hi?hland heather; Where the deer andthe rae, Lightly bounding together, tq?)? the lang summer day the braes of Balquither. I will twine ?hee a bow'r, By the clear siller fountain, Andl'!l cover it o'er Wi' the flow'rs o' the mountain, I will range through the wilds, And the deep glens sae dreary, And return wi' their spoils 'To the bow'r o' my dearie. W?nen the rude wintry win' Idly raves round our dwelling, And the roar of the linn �On the night breeze is swelling, 8o merrily we'll sing As the storm rattles o'er us, Till the doer sheeling ring Wi' the light lilting choruf. l?ow the minimar is in prime Wi' the flow'rs richly bloemln?,
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