Now evening recoils o'er the visage of day,
Secluded, unseen, and unheeded we'll stray;
I long for my charmer, may nought ever harm her,
Maria, the fairest of maids.
But, hark! she is coming, I see her appearing;
Transported the moment of bliss, so endearing,
When heart joins to heart, never more will I part
With Maria, the fairest of maids.
Alex. McEwen.
THE BRAES OF BALQUHITHER.
Let us go, lassie, go
To the braes o' Balquhither,
Where the blae-berries grow
v'Mang the bonnie Highland heather;
Where the deer and the rae
Lightly bounding together,
Sport the lang summer day
On the braes o' Balquhither.
I will twine thee a bower,
By the clear siller fountain,
And I'll cover it o'er
Wi' the flowers o' the mountain;
I will range through the wilds,
And the deep glens sae dreary,
And return wi' their spoils,
To the bower o' my deary.
