227. Costume for November (Equestrian) 863 228. Walking Toilet 864 229. Cap 864 HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. NO. XXV.--JUNE, 1852.--VOL. V. [Illustration] AULD ROBIN GRAY. When the sheep are in the fauld, when the cows come hame, When a' the weary warld to quiet rest are gane; The woes of my heart fa' in showers frae my ee, Unken'd by my gudeman, who soundly sleeps by me. Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and sought me for his bride; But saving ae crown piece, he'd naething else beside, To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea; And the crown and the pound, O they were baith for me! Before he had been gane a twelvemonth and a day, My father brak his arm, our cow was stown away; My mother she fell sick--my Jamie was at sea-- And Auld Robin Gray, oh! he came a-courting me. My father cou'dna work--my mother cou'dna spin; I toil'd day and night, but their bread I cou'dna win; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and, wi' tears in his ee, Said, "Jenny, oh! for their sakes, will you marry me?" My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back; But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack: His ship it was a wrack! Why didna Jamie dee? Or, wherefore am I spar'd to cry out, Woe is me! My father argued sair--my mother didna speak, But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break; They gied him my hand, but my heart was in the sea; And so Auld Robin Gray, he was gudeman to me. I hadna been his wife, a week but only four, When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door, I saw my Jamie's ghaist--I cou'dna think it he, Till he said, "I'm come hame, my love, to marry thee!" O sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say of a'; Ae kiss we took, nae mair--I bad him gang awa. I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee; For O, I am but young to cry out, Woe is me! I gang like a ghaist, and I carena much to spin, I darena think o' Jamie, for that wad be a sin. But I will do my best a gude wife aye to be, For Auld Robin Gray, oh! he is sae kind to me, THE CONTINUATION. The wintry days grew lang, my tears they were a' spent; May be it was despair I fancied was content. They said my cheek was wan; I cou'dna look to see-- For, oh! the wee bit glass, my Jamie gaed it me. My father he was sad, my mother dull and wae; But that which griev'd me maist, it was Auld Robin Gray; Though ne'er a word he said, his cheek said mair than a', It wasted like a brae o'er which the torrents fa'. He gaed into his bed--nae physic wad he take; And oft he moan'd and said, "It's better for her sake." At length he look'd upon me, and call'd me his "ain dear," And beckon'd round the neighbors, as if his hour drew near.