I hae left anew to weep an' rue, Sae nane maun weep for thee. "Take this unto my father's ha, An' tell him I maun speed; There's fifty men in chase o' me, An' a price upon my head. "An' bear this to Dunellie's towers, Where my love Annie's gane; It is a lock o' my brown hair, Girt wi' the diamond Stane." "Dunellie he has daughters five, An' some o' them are fair, Sae, how will I ken thy true love Amang sae mony there?" "Yell ken her by her stately step As she gaes up the ha; Yell ken her by the look o' love That peers out owre them a'; "Yell ken her by the braid o' goud That spreads owre her e'e bree; Ye'll ken her by the red, red cheek When ye name the name o' me.- "That cheek should lain on this breast-bane, Her hame should been my ha'; Our tree is bow'd--our flower is dow'd-- Sir Arthur's an outlaw!" He sighed, an' turned him right about, Where the sea lay braid an' wide: It's no to see his boony boat, But a watery cheek to hide. The page has doffd his feather'd cap, But an' his raven hair; An' out there came the yellow locks, Like swirls o' the goud en wair. Syne he's undone his doublet clasp, Was o' the grass-green hue, When, like a lily frae its leaf, A lady burst in view. "Tell out thy errand now, Sir Knight, Wi' thy love tokens a'; If I e'er rin against my will, 'Twill be at a lover's ca'!" Sir Arthur's turned him round about, E'en as the lady spak'; An' thrice he dighted his dim e'e, An' thrice he steppit back. But ae blink o' her bonny e'e, Out spake his Lady Ann; An' he's catch'd her by the waist sae sma Wi' the grip o' a drowning man. "O! Lady Ann, thy bed's been hard, When I thought it the down; O ! Lady Ann, thy love's been deep, When I thought it was flown. "I've met my love in the greenwood, My foe on the brown hill; But I ne'er met wi' aught before I liked sae weel, an' ill. "O I could make a Queen o' thee, An' it would be my pride; But, Lady Ann, it's no for thee To be an outlaw's bride." "Hae I left kith an' kin, Sir Knight, To turn about and rue? Hae I shar'd win' an' weet wi' thee, That I should leave thee noo? "There's gowd an' siller in this han' Will buy us mony a rigg; There's pearlings in the other han' A stately tower to bigg. "Tho' thou'rt an outlaw frae this Ian', The warl's braid an' wide; Make room, make room, my merry men, For young Sir Arthur's bride!" ----Hew Ainslie. THE FUGITIVES I. |The waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar-spray is dancing-- Away! The whirlwind is rolling, The thunder is tolling, The forest is swinging, The minster bells ringing-- Come away! The earth is like ocean, Wreck-strewn and in motion: