During a long absence on a droving expedition, Mackay was deprived of his mistress by another lover, whom, in fine, she married. The discovery he made, on his return, led to this composition; which is a sequel to another composed on his distant journey, in which he seems to prognosticate something like what happened. Both are selected by Sir Walter Scott as specimens of the bard, and may be found paraphrastically rendered in a prose version, in the _Quarterly Review_, vol. xlv., p. 371, and in the notes to the last edition of "The Highland Drover," in "Chronicles of the Canongate." With regard to the present specimen, it may be remarked, that part of the original is either so obscure, or so freely rendered by Sir Walter Scott's translator, that we have attempted the present version, not without some little perplexity as to the sense of one or two allusions. We claim, on the whole, the merit of almost literal fidelity. I. I fly from the fold, since my passion's despair No longer must harbour the charms that are there; Anne's[95] slender eyebrows, her sleek tresses so long, Her turreted bosom--and Isabel's[96] song; What has been, and is not--woe 's my thought! It must not be spoken, nor can be forgot. II. I wander'd the fold, and I rambled the grove, And each spot it reported the kiss of my love; But I saw her caressing another--and feel 'Tis distraction to hear them, and see them so leal. What has been, and is not, &c. III. Since 'twas told that a rival beguil'd thee away, The dreams of my love are the dreams of dismay; Though unsummon'd of thee,[97] love has captured thy thrall, And my hope of redemption for ever is small. Day and night, though I strive aye To shake him away, still he clings like the ivy. IV. But, auburn-hair'd Anna! to tell thee my plight, 'Tis old love unrequited that prostrates my might, In presence or absence, aye faithful, my smart Still racks, and still searches, and tugs at my heart-- Broken that heart, yet why disappear From my country, without one embrace from my dear? V. She answers with laughter and haughty disdain-- "To handle my snood you petition in vain; Six suitors are mine since the year thou wert gone, What art _thou_, that thou should'st be the favourite one? Art thou sick? Ha, ha, for thy woe! Art thou dying for love? Troth, love's payment was slow."[98] VI. Though my anger may feign it requites thy disdain, And vaunts in thy absence, it threatens in vain-- All in vain! for thy image in fondness returns, And o'er thy sweet likeness expectancy burns; And I hope--yes, I hope once more, Till my hope waxes high as a tower[99] in its soar.