dded
by Hogg, who used to assert that he alone was responsible for the death
of poor Lucy. "The Glen" is a beautiful mountain valley opening on the
Tweed, near Innerleithen; it formerly belonged to Mr Alexander Allan,
but it is now the possession of Charles Tennent, Esq., Glasgow.

HER BONNIE BLACK E'E.

AIR--_"Saw ye my Wee Thing."_

On the banks o' the burn while I pensively wander,
The mavis sings sweetly, unheeded by me;
I think on my lassie, her gentle mild nature,
I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.

When heavy the rain fa's, and loud, loud the win' blaws,
An' simmer's gay cleedin' drives fast frae the tree;
I heedna the win' nor the rain when I think on
The kind lovely smile o' my lassie's black e'e.

When swift as the hawk, in the stormy November,
The cauld norlan' win' ca's the drift owre the lea;
Though bidin' its blast on the side o' the mountain,
I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.

When braw at a weddin' I see the fine lasses,
Though a' neat an' bonnie, they 're naething to me;
I sigh an' sit dowie, regardless what passes,
When I miss the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.

When thin twinklin' sternies announce the gray gloamin',
When a' round the ingle sae cheerie to see;
Then music delightfu', saft on the heart stealin',
Minds me o' the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.

Where jokin' an' laughin', the lave they are merry,
Though absent my heart, like the lave I maun be;
Sometimes I laugh wi' them, but aft I turn dowie,
An' think on the smile o' my lassie's black e'e.

Her lovely fair form frae my mind 's awa' never,
She 's dearer than a' this hale warld to me;
An' this is my wish, may I leave it if ever
She rowe on anither her love-beaming e'e.

ALAKE FOR THE LASSIE!

AIR--_"Logie o' Buchan."_

Alake for the lassie! she 's no right at a',
That lo'es a dear laddie an' he far awa';
But the lassie has muckle mair cause to complain
That lo'es a dear lad, when she 's no lo'ed again.

The fair was just comin', my heart it grew fain
To see my dear laddie, to see him again;
My heart it grew fain, an' lapt light at the thought
O' milkin' the ewes my dear Jamie wad bught.

The bonnie gray morn scarce had open'd her e'e,
When we set to the gate, a' wi' nae little glee;
I was blythe,