We're the sons of sires that baffled Crown'd and mitred tyranny: They defied the field and scaffold, For their birthright--so will we.

WHEN THE KYE COMES HAME

JAMES HOGG

Come all ye jolly shepherds That whistle through the glen, I'll tell ye of a secret That courtiers dinna ken; What is the greatest bliss That the tongue o' man can name?

'Tis to woo a bonny la.s.sie When the kye comes hame.

When the kye comes hame, When the kye comes hame, 'Tween the gloamin' and the mirk, When the kye comes hame.

'Tis not beneath the coronet, Nor canopy of state, 'Tis not on couch of velvet, Nor arbour of the great-- 'Tis beneath the spreading birk, In the glen without the name, Wi' a bonny, bonny la.s.sie, When the kye comes hame.

See yonder pawky shepherd That lingers on the hill-- His yowes are in the fauld, And his lambs are lying still; Yet he downa gang to bed, For his heart is in a flame To meet his bonny la.s.sie When the kye comes hame.

When the little wee bit heart Rises high in the breast, And the little wee bit stars Rise bright in the east, O there's a joy sae dear, That the heart can hardly frame, Wi' a bonny, bonny la.s.sie, When the kye comes hame.

Then since all nature joins In this love without alloy, O' wha wad prove a traitor To nature's dearest joy?

Or wha wad choose a crown, Wi' its pearls and its fame, And miss his bonny la.s.sie When the kye comes hame?

When the kye comes hame, When the kye comes hame, 'Tween the gloamin' and the mirk, When the kye comes hame.

THE SKYLARK

Bird of the wilderness, Blithesome and c.u.mberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!

Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place-- O to abide in the desert with thee!

Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth, Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying?

Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.

O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!

Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!

Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place-- O to abide in the desert with thee!

THE YOUNG MAXWELL

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM

'Where gang ye, thou silly auld carle?

And what do you carry there?'

'I'm gaun to the hillside, thou sodger gentleman, To shift my sheep their lair.'

Ae stride or twa took the silly auld carle, An' a gude lang stride took he: 'I trow thou to be a f.e.c.k auld carle, Will ye shaw the way to me?'

And he has gane wi' the silly auld carle, Adown by the greenwood side; 'Light down and gang, thou sodger gentleman, For here ye canny ride.'

He drew the reins o' his bonny gray steed, An' lightly down he sprang: Of the comeliest scarlet was his weir coat, Whare the gowden ta.s.sels hang.

He has thrown aff his plaid, the silly auld carle, An' his bonnet frae 'boon his bree; An' wha was it but the young Maxwell!

An' his gude brown sword drew he!

'Thou killed my father, thou vile South'ron!

An' ye killed my brethren three!

Whilk brake the heart o' my ae sister, I loved as the light o' my e'e!

'Draw out thy sword, thou vile South'ron!

Red wat wi' blude o' my kin!

That sword it c.r.a.pped the bonniest flower E'er lifted its head to the sun!

'There's ae sad stroke for my dear auld father!

There's twa for my brethren three!

An' there's ane to thy heart for my ae sister, Wham I loved as the light o' my e'e.'

HAME, HAME, HAME

Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!

When the flower is i' the bud, and the leaf is on the tree, The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countrie; Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!

The green leaf o' loyalty's begun for to fa', The bonny white rose it is withering an' a'; But I'll water 't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie, An' green it will grow in my ain countrie.

Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame to my ain countrie!

O there's naught frae ruin my country can save, But the keys o' kind heaven to open the grave, That a' the n.o.ble martyrs wha died for loyaltie, May rise again and fight for their ain countrie.

Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie!

The great are now gane, a' wha ventured to save, The new gra.s.s is springing on the tap o' their grave; But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e, 'I'll shine on ye yet in yer ain countrie.'

Hame, hame, hame, hame fain wad I be, Hame, hame, hame, to my ain countrie.

A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA

A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee.