Or when the setting moon, in crimson dyed, Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep, To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied, Where fays of yore their revels wont to keep; And there let fancy rove at large, till sleep A vision brought to his entranced sight. And first, a wildly murmuring wind 'gan creep Shrill to his ringing ear; then tapers bright, With instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night. * * * * * Nor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth. Her ballad, jest, and riddle's quaint device Oft cheered the shepherds round their social hearth; Whom levity or spleen could ne'er entice To purchase chat or laughter at the price Of decency. Nor let it faith exceed That Nature forms a rustic taste so nice. Ah! had they been of court or city breed, Such, delicacy were right marvellous indeed. Oft when the winter storm had ceased to rave, He roamed the snowy waste at even, to view The cloud stupendous, from th' Atlantic wave High-towering, sail along th' horizon blue; Where, midst the changeful scenery, ever new, Fancy a thousand wondrous forms descries, More wildly great than ever pencil drew-- Rocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size, And glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise. Thence musing onward to the sounding shore, The lone enthusiast oft would take his way, Listening, with pleasing dread, to the deep roar Of the wide-weltering waves. In black array When sulphurous clouds rolled on th' autumnal day, Even then he hastened from the haunts of man, Along the trembling wilderness to stray, What time the lightning's fierce career began, And o'er heaven's rending arch the rattling thunder ran. Responsive to the sprightly pipe when all In sprightly dance the village youth were joined, Edwin, of melody aye held in thrall, From the rude gambol far remote reclined, Soothed, with the soft notes warbling in the wind. Ah then all jollity seemed noise and folly To the pure soul by fancy's fire refined! Ah, what is mirth but turbulence unholy When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy! LADY ANNE LINDSAY AULD ROBIN GRAY When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame, And a' the warld to rest are gane, The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, While my gudeman lies sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride; But saving a croun he had naething else beside; To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaid to sea; And the croun and the pund were baith for me. He hadna been awa' a week but only twa, When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa'; My mother she fell sick,--and my Jamie at the sea-- And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me.