James Smith

* * *

DOUN fair Dalmeny’s rosy dells
  Sweet Mary wandered, sad an’ wae;
The sunlicht faded owre the lea,
  An’ cheerless fell the simmer day.
The warblin’ mavis sang nae mair,
  As aft she sighed, in heavy sorrow:
“O, lanely, lanely lies my luve;
  An’ cauld ’s the nicht that brings nae morrow!”

“By yonder hoary castle wa’,
  Where murmurs deep the dark blue sea,
I wearied sair the langsome nicht,
  Till tears bedimmed my sleepless ee.
The boat gaed down by Cramond’s isle,—
  O, weary fa’ that nicht o’ sorrow!
For lanely, lanely lies my luve;
  An’ cauld ’s the nicht that brings nae morrow!”

“O foaming waves, that took my luve,—
  My ain true-luve, beyond compare!
O, will I see his winsome form,
  An’ hear his dear lo’ed voice nae mair?”
Fu’ deep the snaw-white surges moaned:
  “O, sair ’s the burden o’ thy sorrow;
For lanely, lanely lies thy luve;
  An’ cauld ’s the nicht that brings nae morrow!”

She wandered weary by the shore,
  An’ murmured aft his name sae dear;
Till owre Dalmeny’s dewy dells
  The silver moon shone sweet an’ clear.
An’ saft the tremblin’ breezes sighed,
  As far she strayed, in hopeless sorrow:
“O, lanely, lanely lies thy luve;
  An’ cauld ’s the nicht that brings nae morrow!”