179'' 



THE WEE THING. 67 



« Her hair it was lint white, her fcin it wa« milk white, 



' Dark was the blue o' her faft rolUng ee ! 



' Red war her ripe lips, and fweeter than rofcs ! 



' Sweet war the Idffes that Ihe gae to me !' 



*« It was na my wee thing ! it was na mine ain thing ! 

 " It was na my true love ye met by the tree '. 

 " Proud is her leil heart, and modeft her nature, 

 «' She never loo'd Lc-nian till ance ihe loo'd me. 



«' HernameltisMARy, fhe'sfrae CastlEjCary, 



« Aft has (he fat, when a bairn, on my knee! 



« Fair as your face is, war't fifty times fairer, 



" Young braggart ? (he ne'er would gie kilTe* to thee . 



« Itwasthen>oKrMART, fhe'sfrae CASTLErCARY, 

 ' It was thenycur true love I met by the tree ! 

 ' Proud as her heart is, and modeft her nature, 

 ' Sweet war the kiffes that Ihe gae to me !' 



Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood red his cheek grew. 

 Wild flalh'd the fire, frae his red rolling ee ; 

 " Ye'6 rue fair this morning, your boafts and your fcormng; 

 " Defend ye faufe traitor , for loudly ye lie ! 



« Awa' wi' beguihng,' then cried the youth fmiling ; 

 Affwent the bonnet ; the liut-white locks flee ; 

 The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bofom (hawing, 

 Fair flood the lov'd maid wi' the dark rolling ee 1 



" Is it my -zree th'wg ' is it mine ain thing ? 



" lsi<OTji^rwloveherethat Ifee?" 



' O Jamie! forgie me, your heart's conftant to rae^; 



• I'll never mair wander, my true love, frae thee. 



To the Editor of the Bee. 



To George Dempjler. 

 Dempster! thy country's friend ! I callthee mine ! 

 " Sweet is the fctting fun of ftormy life," 

 But fweeter yet by far a charming gleam 

 Of genial fun to clof& the fumnier day. 

 Ufcful, though placid, is thy fage tcueat : 



I 2 *- 



