I saw it was sore, why took I her hand?
Oh, that was a deed to my shame o'er the land!

"How truth, soon or late, comes to open daylight!
For Jamie cam' back, and your cheek it grew white;
White, white grew your cheek, but aye true unto me.
Oh, Jeanie, I 'm thankfu'--I 'm thankfu' to dee!

"Is Jamie come here yet?" and Jamie he saw;
"I 've injured you sair, lad, so I leave you my a';
Be kind to my Jeanie, and soon may it be!
Waste no time, my dauties, in mournin' for me."

They kiss'd his cauld hands, and a smile o'er his face
Seem'd hopefu' of being accepted by grace;
"Oh, doubtna," said Jamie, "forgi'en he will be,
Wha wadna be tempted, my love, to win thee?"

* * * * *

The first days were dowie, while time slipt awa';
But saddest and sairest to Jeanie of a'
Was thinking she couldna be honest and right,
Wi' tears in her e'e, while her heart was sae light.

But nae guile had she, and her sorrow away,
The wife of her Jamie, the tear couldna stay;
A bonnie wee bairn--the auld folks by the fire--
Oh, now she has a' that her heart can desire!

In an earlier continuation of the original ballad, there are some good
stanzas, which, however, the author had thought proper to expunge from
the piece in its altered and extended form. One verse, descriptive of
Robin Gray's feelings, on observing the concealed and withering grief of
his spouse, is beautiful for its simplicity:--

"Nae questions he spier'd her concerning her health,
He look'd at her often, but aye 'twas by stealth;
When his heart it grew grit, and, sighin', he feign'd
To gang to the door to see if it rain'd."

SONG.

Why tarries my love?
Ah! where does he rove?
My love is long absent from me.
Come hither, my dove,
I 'll write to my love,
And send him a letter by thee.

To find him, swift fly!
The letter I 'll tie
Secure to thy leg with a string.
Ah! not to my leg,
Fair lady, I beg,
But fasten it under my wing.

Her dove she did deck,
She drew o'er his neck
A bell and a collar so gay;
She tied to his wing
The scroll with a string,
Then kiss'd him and sent him away.

It blew and it rain'd,
The pigeon disdain'd
To seek shelter; undaunted he flew,
Till wet was his wing,
An