Leadhills village bell had ceas'd, Mourners from the graveyard pass'd To the lonely shepherd's cot. Jeanie then--her dismal lot-- Walking lonely up the glen, Thinking of those in heav'n--When! A form lay sleeping!--A form lay sleeping! A form lay sleeping! Yea--_in death!_ Hand 'neath head upon the heath. When carried--and buried--lamented-- Lowther winds wail'd--story presented:-- "Daurna tarry--I maun hame, Though I clim' the hills my lane. Mirk the day, an' heich the win', Oot ow'r the muir I'll brawly rin, Speel the Lowthers like a grew, Wade the burn--hame safely through." "Na! my lassie, dinna gae, Far ow'r short this winter's day. Hear ye no' the sough o' storm Howlin' roun' Glenucher's horn? Bide ye, lass, in Kirkhope biel, Fair the morn, the hills ye'll spiel." "Daurna tarry--I maun hame, Aft the hills I've clim'd alane. Sister's marriage--ken ye no'?-- Comes e'er lang, sae I maun go. Fareweel, Kirkhope's freenly ha', Fleetch nae mair--I maun gae wa'." "Weel, my lass, on hame sae set, Cart an' road, an' hame ye'll get, Sun's ow'r laigh to tak' the hill; Wi' sna' the heuchs an' hags 'ill fill. Ne'er to get the len'th o' hame-- Death wad cry ilk day, me blame." "Daurna tarry--I maun hame, Langer stey! 'twad be a shame! Roun' the road, or ow'r the hill, Hame this nicht I've set my will. Noo I'm aff, the month t' spen'. Crawford Muir, gude-bye till then." * * * * * * "Over muir and vale she sped, As if Elfin feet her tread. Pass'd the river, cross'd the road, Where a shepherd's cottage stood. He concern'd, thrice urged her stay, Mountain scale another day. "See the storm, it's gatherin' fast, Strong men couldna stan' that blast. Shelter tak', an' I'll convoy Oot ow'er hills wi' muckle joy, The morn's morn as sune's it's licht. Stey wi's noo. It's a'maist nicht. "Fifteen fouk, an' mair they say, Lost the life, e'er break o' day, Amang thae hills. Sae may ye Fa doon, warsle till ye dee. Tak' ye advice; stey here the nicht; Mornin' sun may shine fu' bricht." "Daurna tarry--I maun hame. Dinna bid me!--I'm gaun hame. Young an' yaul, I'm no' sae fleyd, Warsle through baith win' an' tide; Stan' the snifter ow'r the hill-- Lovin' herts wi' joy to thrill." "Blew fierce snow-drift. Almost gone, On she struggled, bravely on; Paus'd to take a breath of air; Step by step cross'd over where Lowthers wore their winter's sheet; Down-hill, blinded with the sleet. "Daurna tarry--I maun hame," 'Twas on heart her upmost theme. "Burn! ye roar fu' lood an' baul'; An' oh! yer water's dreedfu' caul'. Ventur' maun I, an' get through, Should ye swell frae bank to broo. "Wae's me! Waded aft this burn, Ne'er till noo felt sic a turn! Think I'll faint--I'm unco wauff! Water! then, gi'es ae bit quaff. Raether better!--Noo--I'll try: Fence an' hill 'll sune be by.