I've roam'd the sunny braes of Ayr, Hae ranged the bonnie banks of Doon; Beheld the winsome lassies there, In vernal morn and simmer's noon. But the lovely lass of Yarrow, &c. &c. I've sail'd on Katrine's leesome lake, Hae climb'd the lofty Lomond's brow; Fair nymphs hae seen o' heav'nly make-- So sweet a form yet ne'er till now, Like the lovely lass of Yarrow, &c. &c. This song was well received. The goblet having opened their hearts, prevented them from being too fastidious in their criticism. A song was now loudly called for from the Nithsdale clan, when auld Davie Maxwell, with much feeling sung the following: I WINNA TELL, HER HEART 'TWAD BREAK. I winna tell my Jeanie dear Our bairn's to battle gane; Her heart wad break, unshed a tear, For him, our anely wean. I mauna tell--I dare nae speak The direful words accurst; The tale my Jeanie's heart wad break, And then my ane wad burst! I'll say that to the Hielands flane, Or to the village fair, Our manly, darling bairn's gane; But nae ane ward o' war! Or thae amid the birken shaw, Or in the Rowan-Bower, Or wand'ring o'er the heathry haugh, To while awa the hour. But ah! nae mair I'll Jeanie tell, Nor word of battle speak, Nor at Kil'kranky's pass he fell, For then her heart wad break! This pathetic little production produced much applause. And now stoups of claret circled round the table, certainly in an increased ratio of rapidity. Nor was the native Fairntosh neglected; for some, who complained that claret was too cold for a Caledonian stomach, accordingly fortified the same with some simple potations of their native spirit. The wish of the company now seemed to be for a song that partook of a martial nature; and the following was sung by one of the clan of Johnstone:-- WAR SONG. Health to the chieftain on hill or in hall, Whose front no foeman could ever appal! The first and foremost his foes to attack, His face they all know--they ne'er saw his back! The targe his pillow, his couch the heather, Defying claymore, dirk, and the weather. Down with all foemen!--What clanship shall sever Our bond of alliance? Never--oh, never! Never--oh, never! This song was loudly applauded by a grand chorus, which was performed by the company striking the handles of their daggers on the finely carved table, on which were emblazoned the arms and achievements of the house of Bruce; and the song was loudly encored. The clan of Maxwell now in their turn were called upon for a martial song, when one of the officers sung, in a measure _presto et furioso_:-- LORD MAXWELL'S SLOGAN. I.