O Annan runs smoothly atween its green banks,
The ear may scarce listen its flowing:
Ye may see 'tween the ranks of the lofty green trees
The golden harvest glowing,
And hear the horn wound, see the husbandman's bands
Fall on with their sharp sickles bright in their hands.
I have seen by thy deep and romantic stream
The sword of the warrior flashing;
I have seen through thy deep and thy crystal stream
The barbed war-steeds dashing:
There grows not a green tree, there stands not a stone,
But the fall of the valiant and noble has known.
When the song ceased I observed two hands shedding apart the thick willows, while an eye glanced for a moment through the aperture on the young maiden and me. A song of a gentler nature instantly followed, and I could not help imagining that my companion felt a particular interest in the minstrel's story. The time and the place contributed to the charm of the sweet voice and the rustic poetry.
BONNIE MARY HALLIDAY.
Bonnie Mary Halliday,
Turn again, I call you;
If you go to the dewy wood
Sorrow will befall you:
The ringdove from the dewy wood
Is wailing sore and calling,
And Annanwater, 'tween its banks,
Is foaming far and falling.
Gentle Mary Halliday,
Come, my bonnie lady;
Upon the river's woody bank
My steed is saddled ready;
And for thy haughty kinsmen's threats,
My faith shall never falter;
The bridal banquet's ready made,
The priest is at the altar.
Gentle Mary Halliday,
The towers of merry Preston
Have bridal candles gleaming bright,
So busk thee, love, and hasten;
Come, busk thee, love, and bowne thee
Through Tinwald and green Mouswal;
Come, be the grace and be the charm
To the proud towers of Machusel.
Bonnie Mary Halliday,
Turn again, I tell you:
For wit, an' grace, an' loveliness,
