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Aye gat him friends in ilka place.
His breast was white, his touzie back
Weel clad wi' coat o' glossy black;
His gaucie tail, wi' upward curl,
Hung o'er his hurdies wi' a swirl.

Nae doubt but they were fain o' ither.
And unco pack and thick thegither;

always got, each

shaggy

well stately

hips, swirling motion

fond

very intimate [ed

Wi'social nose whyles snuff'd and snowkit, sometimes scentWhyles mice and moudieworts they howkit; moles, dug up Whyles scoured awa in lang excursion,

And worried ither in diversion;

Until wi' daffin' weary grown,

Upon a knowe they sat them down,

And there began a lang digression

About the lords o' the creation.

away each other

sporting hillock

long

EPISTLE TO A YOUNG FRIEND.

I'LL no say men are villains a' ;

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Bnt never tempt th' illicit rove,
Though naething should divulge it:
I waive the quantum o' the sin.
The hazard of concealing;

But, oh! it hardens a' within,

And petrifies the feeling!

nothing

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"The bridegroom may forget the bride, Was made his wedded wife yestreen; The monarch may forget the crown

That on his head an hour has been; The mother may forget the child

That smiles sae sweetly on her knee; But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,

And a' that thou hast done for me!"

HIGHLAND MARY.

Yɛ banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

yesterday

80

all

Your waters never drumlie!

muddy

There, Simmer, first unfauld your robes, summer, unfold

And there the langest tarry;

longest

For there I took the last fareweel

O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How rich the hawthorn's blossom,

As underneath their fragrant shade

I clasp'd her to my bosom !
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie:

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,

birch

For dear to me, as light and life,

Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;

many

full

And, pledging aft to meet again,

oft

We tore oursel's asunder;

But oh! fell Death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,

That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,

I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!

And closed for aye the sparkling glance,

That dwelt on me sae kindly!

And mould'ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

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John Mayne.

Born 1761

Died 1836

BORN of humble parents in Dumfries, in 1761, Mayne showed considerable ability in poetical composition in his sixteenth year, when he began his "Siller Gun," which was improved and enlarged in many successive editions. He is also the author of "Logan Braes," "Helen of Kirkland," &c. Mayne raised himself to a position of influence in London, where he resided for the latter part of his life.

LOGAN BRAES.

By Logan's streams that rin sae deep,
Fu' aft wi' glee I've herded sheep;
Herded sheep and gathered slaes,
Wi' my dear lad on Logan braes.

But wae's my heart, thae days are gane;
And I wi' grief may herd alane,

While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.

Nae mair at Logan Kirk will he
Atween the preachings meet wi' me:
Meet wi' me, or, when it's mirk,
Convoy me home frae Logan kirk.
I weel may sing thae days are gane:
Frae kirk and fair I come alane;
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.

At e'en, when hope amaist is gane,
I dauner out and sit alane;
Sit alane beneath the tree
Where aft he kept his tryst wi' me.
Oh! could I see thae days again,
My lover skaithless and my ain!
Beloved by friends, revered by faes.
We'd live in bliss on Logan braes!

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