Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast;

Thou dart of heaven that flashest by,
O wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see!

But spare, and pardon my fause love,
His wrangs to heaven and me!

MARY MORISON,

Tune,' Bide ye yet.'

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 blithly wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun;
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen when to the trembling string,
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard or saw :
Tho' this was fair, and that was br
And you the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
'Ye are na Mary Morison.'

SONGS.

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?
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.

WANDERING WILLIE.

HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom my ae only dearie,

And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting; It was na the blast brought the tear to my e'e: Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers,
O how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
Awaken ye breezes, row gently ye billows,
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nanie,

O still flow between us, thou wide roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it, But dying believe that my

Willie's my

ain!

THE SAME,

As altered by Mr. Erskine and Mr. Thomson.

HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame,
Come to my bosom my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter winds blew loud and caul at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e,
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,
As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest ye
wild storms in the cave o' your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Blow soft ye breezes! roll gently ye billows!
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie, Flow still between us thou dark-heaving main! May I never see it, may I never trow it,

While dying I think that my Willie's my ain.

Our Poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows:

HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,

Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame :

Come to my bosom my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e, Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms!

Wauken ye breezes, row gently ye billows,

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie, Flow still between us thou wide-roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it,

But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!

WITH ALTERATIONS.

On, open the door, some pity to shew,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,
And the time is setting with me, Oh!
False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide; She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh!

My true love, she cried, and sank down by his side, Never to rise again, Oh!

JESSIE.

Tune Bonnie Dundee."

TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair:
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;
To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain ;
Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dew, orning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;
Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law :
And still to her charms she alone is a stranger!
Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.