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BONNY PRINCE CHARLIE.

Is it not singular how this song should have been so popular ? There can be no dispute that it is one of my worst. The air was likewise given me by my friend the late Mr Niel Gow, and to it I dashed down the words at random. Afterwards, when there was like to be a dust among the music-sellers about the tune, Mr Robertson wrote to me about it, and to justify his appropriation, assured me that the air was that of " Gala Water !” I answered that I would not dispute his authority, but after that, no man was entitled to disbelieve that a horsehair would turn an eel. For the music of this and the foregoing song, the best sets are to be found in Mr Purdie's Border Garland, by Dewar.

Cam ye by Athol, lad wi’ the philabeg,
Down by the Tummel, or banks o' the Garry,
Saw ye our lads, wi' their bonnets and white cockades,
Leaving their mountains to follow Prince Charlie ?

Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee ?
Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly!
Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee,
King o' the Highland hearts, bonny Prince Charlie ?
I hae but ae son, my gallant young Donald;
But if I had ten, they should follow Glengarry!
Health to M'Donnell and gallant Clan-Ronald,
For these are the men that will die for their Charlie !

Follow thee! follow thee! &c.

I'll to Lochiel and Appin, and kneel to them,
Down by Lord Murray, and Roy of Kildarlie;
Brave M'Intosh he shall fly to the field with them;
These are the lads I can trust wi’ my Charlie !

Follow thee! follow thee! &c.

Down through the Lowlands, down wi’ the Whigamore! Loyal true Highlanders, down wi' them rarely ! Ronald an' Donald, drive on, wi’ the broad claymore, Over the necks of the foes o' Prince Charlie!

Follow thee! follow thee! wha wadna follow thee ?
Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly!
Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee,
King o' the Highland hearts, bonny Prince Charlie ?

THE SKYLARK.

A Little pastoral song, worth half-a-dozen of the foregoing. -For the fine original air, see Mr Purdie's Border Garland.

Bird of the wilderness,

Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place-
O to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud,

Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.

Where, on thy dewy wing,

Where art thou journeying ?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O’er fell and fountain sheen,

O’er moor and mountain green, O’er the red streamer that heralds the day,

Over the cloudlet dim,

Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming comes,

Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!

Emblem of happiness,

Blest is thy dwelling-place-
O to abide in the desert with thee!

GANG TO THE BRAKENS WľME.

This pastoral ballad is likewise set to music by Bishop, in Goulding and D’Almaine's Select Melodies, but I confess not much to my taste, as he has ruined the simplicity of my favourite air, which I deemed a masterpiece.

I'll sing of yon glen of red heather,

An' a dear thing that ca's it her hame,
Wha's a' made o’ love-life thegither,

Frae the tie o' the shoe to the kaime.
Love beckons in every sweet motion,

Commanding due homage to gie;
But the shrine o' my dearest devotion

Is the bend o’ her bonny eebree.

I fleech'd an' I pray'd the dear lassie

To gang to the brakens wi' me ;
But, though neither lordly nor saucy,

Her answer was," Laith wad I be!

B

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