"Look up! look up! thy fear controlling, It is thy Willie's voice that calls:" She oped her eyes--now wildly rolling All o'er his face the lustrous balls-- "It is, it is---oh, powers most holy! And I had heard that thou wert dead; And here, in spite of melancholy, I still spin for my daily bread." "'Twas Friar John wrote me a letter, He said he saw thee on thy bier; And sore I mourned with tears, oh bitter! For one I ever loved so dear." "Oh, wae befa' that wicked friar, Who sairly tried my love to gain; Wae, wae befa' that wicked liar, Wha brought on us sae meikle pain." Then Willie said, with tears encumbered, "Cheer up, cheer up, dear Marjorie, For I have gold in sums unnumbered, And it shall all belong to thee." "And art thou true, and still unmarried? And is thy bodie not a seim? And is it true my ears have carried, Or is it a' a lying dream?" "All, all is true, my dearest hinny, What thou'rt to me I am to thee, Our years on earth may still be many, And quickly we shall wedded be." "Ah, weel! ah, weel!" and sighing, sobbing, She on his breast her head hath lain; And as he felt her bosom throbbing, He kissed her ower and ower again. And he has bought a noble mansion, And stocked it with all things genteel Of costly price--nor need we mention The rock and reel and spinning-wheel; And he has bought a noble carriage, With servants in gay liverie, I trow there was an unco marriage In the ancient wynd of Saint Marie. IX. THE LEGEND OF MARY LEE.[A] _(Another Version.)_ [Footnote A: See the strange song of the same name in the _Scottish Gallovidean Encyclopædia_, from which I borrow some of the maledictory epithets. Grotesque they may be, but they are justified by the vocabulary of our old witch-sibyls used in curses and incantations, as we find in books of diablerie.] Though Robert was heir to broad Kildearn, He had often with gipsies roved, And from gipsies he came a name to earn, Which was dear to the maid he loved. To ladies fair he was Robert St. Clair, When he met them in companie; To a certain one, and to her alone, He was only Robin-a-Ree.[2] [Footnote 2: Kingly, or royal, in the gipsy tongue.] Through Kildearn's woods they were wont to rove, And they knew well the trysting tree; The green sward was their bed of love, And the green leaves their canopie. But the love of the virgin heart is shy, And hangs between hope and fear; It is fed by the light of a lover's eye, And it trusts thro' the willing ear. "My Mary! I swear by yon Solway tide, Which is true to the queen of night, That thou shalt be my chosen bride When I come to my lawful right: My father is now an aged man, And but few years more can see; And when he dies, old Kildearn's land Belongs to Robin-a-Ree."