Sae dear’s the joy was bought, John, Sae free the battle fought, John, That sinfu’ man e’er brought To the land o’ the leal. O, dry your glistening e’e, John! My saul langs to be free, John, And angels beckon me To the land o’ the leal. O, haud ye leal and true, John! Your day it’s wearin’ through, John, And I’ll welcome you To the land o’ the leal. Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John, This warld’s cares are vain, John, We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain, In the land o’ the leal. JAMES HOGG 1770-1835 _513._ _A Boy’s Song_ Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the grey trout lies asleep, Up the river and over the lea, That’s the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That’s the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to track the homeward bee, That’s the way for Billy and me. Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free, That’s the way for Billy and me. Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That’s the thing I never could tell. But this I know, I love to play Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and over the lea, That’s the way for Billy and me. _514._ _Kilmeny_ Bonnie Kilmeny gaed up the glen; But it wasna to meet Duneira’s men, Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. It was only to hear the yorlin sing, And pu’ the cress-flower round the spring; The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye, And the nut that hung frae the hazel tree; For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. But lang may her minny look o’er the wa’, And lang may she seek i’ the green-wood shaw; Lang the laird o’ Duneira blame, And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame! _514._ yorlin] the yellow-hammer. hindberrye] bramble. minny] mother. greet] mourn. When many a day had come and fled, When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, When mess for Kilmeny’s soul had been sung, When the bedesman had pray’d and the dead bell rung, Late, late in gloamin’ when all was still, When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, The wood was sere, the moon i’ the wane, The reek o’ the cot hung over the plain, Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane; When the ingle low’d wi’ an eiry leme, Late, late in the gloamin’ Kilmeny came hame!