Close to his breast he held me fast;

Sae cozy, warm, we lay thegither!

Nae simmer heat was half sae sweet

As my luve's plaid amang the hether!
O my bonny, &c.

Mid wind and rain he tald his tale;

My lightsome heart grew like a feather;

It lap sae quick I coudna speak,

But silent sigh'd amang the hether!

O my bonny, &c.

The storm blew past; we kiss'd in haste;

I hameward ran and tald my mither;

She gloom'd at first, but soon confess'd

The bowls row'd right amang the hether!
O my bonny, &c.

Now Hymen's beam gilds bank and stream
Whar Will and I fresh flowers will gather;

Nae storms I fear, I've got my dear

ON

THE DEATH

OF

DAVID DOIG, LL. D.

MASTER OF THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL,

STIRLING.

He's gane!-he's gane!-ah! welladay!

The spirit's flown that warm'd the clay!
The light has fled that cheer'd the way

Through lear's mirk page;

Fir'd the young breast wi' fancy's ray,

And charm'd the sage!

The sun has set that beam'd sae bright!

Nae radiance shines on STREVLIN's height!

Nae star glints now wi' saften'd light

On fancy's bower!

But dark and silent is the night

In DOIG's tower! *

In Doig's tower, whar aft and lang

The mingling notes o' learning rang;
And aft her fav'rite mistrel sang

In varied key;

Wi' Horace saft! wi' Homer strang,

Wi' Pindar hie!

In Doig's tower, whar late and air

Ilk bud o' genius blossom'd fair;

* The grammar school, erected on the castle-hill of Stirling.

Nurs'd by the fostering hand o' care,

They sprang to view;

Burst into sweets, and far and near

The fragrance flew !

He's gane!-he's gane!-Strevlina, mourn!

Ah! drap the saut tear on his urn!

The light again will ne'er return

That cheer'd ye a';

The fire that bleiz'd nae mair will burn

In yonder ha'!