226 A Scottish Trout Stream. 



Are growing green, and all the lover's heart 

 Throbs with upbraiding full and wild unrest 

 That nature is so kind, and fate so hard.* 



And Principal Shairp in his beautiful ballad of the 

 " Bush aboon Traquair," more than most, has thrown 

 a new light across the very spirit of the old Border 

 ballad : 



" What saw ye there, 



At the Bush aboon Traquair ? 

 And what heard ye there that was worth your heed ? 



I heard the cushies croon 



Thro' the gowden afternoon, 

 And the Quair burn singin' doon to the Vale o' the Tweed. 



And birks, saw I three or four, 



Wi' grey moss, bearded ower, 

 The last that are left o' the birkenshaw, 



Whar mony a simmer e'en, 



Fond lovers did convene 

 Thae bonny, bonny gloamin's that are far awa'. 



They were best beyond compare, 



When they held their trystin' there 

 Ainang the greenest hills shone on by the sun ; 



And there they wan a rest, 



The lounest and the best, 

 I Traquair Kirkyard when a' was dune. 



Now the birks to dust may rot, 



Names o' lovers be forgot, 

 Nae lads and lasses there ony mair convene ; 



But the blithe lilt o' yon air 



Keeps the Bush aboon Traquair, 

 And the love that ance was there, aye fresh and green. 



" The Tweed " and other poems. 



