The Press.
London, England, 1857-09-19 00:00:00

is more of a ballad. Its second stanza thus
proceeds :
To see her cousin she cam' there,
An', oh, the scene was passing fair
For what in Scotland can compare
Wi' the Carve o' Gowrie?
The sun was setting on the Tay,
The blue hills melting into gray ;
The mavis' and the blackbird's lay
Were -weetly heard in Cowrie.
Oh, lang the lassie I had woo'd !
An' truth and constancy had vow'd,
But cam' nae speed wi' her I lo'ed,
Until she saw fair Gowrie.
I pointed to my faither's ha',
Yon bonny bield ayont the shaw,
Sae loun' that there nae blast could blew;
Wad she no bide in Gowrie?
Her faither was baith glad and wae ;
Her wither she wad naething say ;
The hairnies thocht they wad get play
If Kitty geed to Gowrie.
She whiles did smile, she whiles did greet,
The blush and tear were on her cheek;
She naething said, an' hung her head;
But now she's Leddy Gowrie.
The annotation in this beautiful piece is not
sufficiently critical. The version by William
Reid is extremely low when compared with
Lady Nairn's ballad.
The piece called " The heiress" shows
the rich humour, blended with pathos, of Lady
Nairn's mind. It runs
no be had for naething, •
I'll no be had for naething,
I tell ye, lads, that's ae thing,
So ye needna follow me.
Oh, the change is most surprising,
Last year I was plain Betty Brown,
Now to me they're a' aspiring,—
The fair Elizabeth I ant grown!
What siller does is most amazing,
Nene o' them e'er look'd at me,
Now my charms they a' are praising,
For my sake they're like to dee.
The Laird, the Shirrs, and the Doctor,
Wi' twa three Lords o' high degree;
Wi' heaps o' Writers I could mention—
Oh, surely this is no me !
But I'll no, &c.
And the conclusion is most gracefully turned :

But there is ane, when I had naetbing,
A' his heart he gi'ed to me;
And sair he toil'd for a wee thing,
To bring me when he cam' free sea.
If ever I should marry ony,
He will be the lad for me ;
For he was baith gude and bonny,
And he thought the same o' me.
Sae I'll no, &c.
Compare with the sly humour of the foregoing
the extraordinary pathos of the following
most beautiful verses. Balmy, indeed, is their
music. and most touching is their melody to
the ears of those suffering from recollection of
the loved and lost :
TRUE LOVE IS WATERED AYE Wl' TEARS.
True love is water'd aye wi tears,
It grows 'neath stormy skies,
It's fenced around wi' hopes and fears
An' fann'd wi heartfelt sighs.
Wi' chains o' gowd it will no be bound,
Oh ! wha the heart can buy
The titled glare, the warldling's care,
Even absence 'twill defy,
Even absence 'twill defy.
And time, that kills a' ither things,
His withering touch 'twill brave,
'Twill live in joy, 'twill live in grief,
'Twill live beyond the grave!
'Twill live, 'twill live, though buried deep,
In true heart's memorie—
Oh ! we forgot that ane sae fair,
Sae bricht, sae young, could dee,
Sae young could dee.

Unfeeling hands may touch the chord
Where buried griefs do lie—
How many silent agonies
May that rude touch untie !
But, oh ! I love that plaintive lay—
That dear auld melodie !
For, oh ! 'tis sweet !—yet I mann greet,
For it was sung by thee,
Sung by thee !
They may forget wha lichtly love,
Or feel but beauty's chain ;
But they wha loved a heavenly mind
Can never love again !
A' my dreams o' warld's told
Aye were turned wi' thee,
But I leant on a broken reed
Which soon was ta'en free me,
Ta'en free me.
'Tie weel, 'tis weel, we dinna ken
What we may live to see,
'Twas Mercy's hand that hung the veil
O'er sstl futurity !
Oh, ye whose hearts are scathed and riven,
%Vila feel the %%arid is vain,
Oh, fix your broken earthly ties
Where they ne'er will break again,
Break again !