4. BUSK ye, bufk ye, my bonny bonny bride,

Bufk ye, bufk ye, my winsome marrow, Bufk ye, bufk ye, my bonny bonny bride, And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow.

B. Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride?
Where gat ye that winfome marrow?
A. I gat her where I dare na weil be seen,

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride,
Weep not, weep not, my winfome marrow,
Nor let thy heart lament to leive

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

B. Why does fhe weep, thy bonny bonny bride ?
Why does fhe weep thy winfome marrow?

And why dare ye nae mair weil be feen

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow?

A. Lang maun fhe weep, lang maun fhe, maun fhe weep, Lang maun fhe weep with dule and forrow,

And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen

Puing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

For fhe has tint her luver, luver dear,
Her luver dear, the cause of forrow,

And I hae flain the comlieft fwain

20

That eir pu'd birks on the Braes of Yarrow.

Why rins thy ftream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, reid?
Why on thy braes heard the voice of forrow;

And why your melancholious weids

Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow?

What's

25

What's yonder floats on the rueful rueful Aude ?
What's yonder floats? O dule and forrow!

O'tis he the comely fwain I flew

Upon the duieful Braes of Yarrow.

Wash, O wafh his wounds, his wounds in tears,

His wounds in tears with dule and forrow,
And wrap his limbs in mourning weids,
And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow.

30

35

Then build, then build, ye fifters, fifters fad,
Ye fisters fad, his tomb with sorrow,

And weep around in waefull wife

His hapless fate on the Braes of Yarrow.

40

Curfe ye, curfe ye, his useless, useless fhield,
My arm that wrought the deed of forrow,
The fatal fpear that pierc'd his breast,

His comely breast on the Braes of Yarrow.

Did I not warn thee, not to, not to luve?
And warn from fight? but to my sorrow

45

Too rafhly bauld a ftronger arm

Thou met'ft, and and fel'ft on the Braes of Yarrow.

Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the grafs,

Yellow on Yarrowes bank the gowan,

Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,

Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan.

Flows Yarrow fweet? as fweet, as fweet flows Tweed,

As green its grafs, its gowan as yellow,

As fweet smells on its braes the birk,

The aple frae its rock as mellow.

55

Fair

Fair was thy luve, fàir fair indeed thy luve,

In flow'ry bands thou didst him fetter; Tho' he was fair, and weil beluv'd again Than me he never luv'd thee better.

Bufk ye, then bufk,
Bufk ye, bufk ye,
Bufk ye, and lufe me

my bonny bonny bride,
my winfome marrow,

on the banks of Tweed,

60

And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow.

C. How can I bufk a bonny bonny bride?
How can I bufk a winfome marrow?

65

How luve him upon the banks of Tweed,

That flew my luve on the Braes of Yarrow?

O Yarrow fields, may never never rain',
Now dew thy tender bloffoms cover,

70

For there was basely flain my luve,
My luve, as he had not been a lover..

The boy put on his robes, his robes of green,

His purple veft, 'twas my awn sewing:

Ah! wretched me! I little, little ken'd

He was in these to meet his ruin.

The boy took out his milk-white milk-white fteed,
Unheedful of my dule and forrow;

But ere the toofall of the night

He lay a corps on the Braes of Yarrow.

Much I rejoyc'd that waeful waeful day;

I fang, my voice the woods returning: But lang ere night the fpear was flown,

That flew my luve, and left me mourning.

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80%

What

What can my barbarous barbarous father do,
But with his cruel rage pursue me?

My luver's blood is on thy fpear,

How can't thou, barbarous man, then woe me?

My happy fifters may be, may be proud

With cruel, and ungentle scoffin',

May bid me feek on Yarrow's Braes

85

90

Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of lufe,
With bridal fheets my body cover,

Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door,

Let in the expected hufbande lover.

100

But who the expected hufband husband is?

His hands, methinks, are bath'd in laughter,

Ah me! what ghaftly fpectre's yon,

Comes in his pale fhroud, bleeding after?

Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down,
O lay his cold head on my pillow;
Take aff, take aff thefe bridal weids,
And crown my careful head with willow.

Pale tho' thou art, yet beft, yet beft beluv'd,
O could my warmth to life reftore thee!
Yet lye all night between my breifts,

No youth lay ever there before thee.

105

ΠΙΟ

Pale

Pale, pale indeed, O luvely luvely youth,
Forgive, forgive fo foul a flaughter,
And lye all night between my breifts,

No youth fhall ever lye there after.

A. Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride

Return and dry thy useless forrow,

Thy luver heeds nought of thy fighs,

He lyes a corps in the Braes of Yarrow.

120

XXVII.

ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST,

was written by the ingenious author of LEONIDAS, on the taking of Porto Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22. 1739. The cafe of Hofier, which is here fo pathetically reprefented, was briefly this. In April, 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country, or Should they prefume to come out, to seize and carry them into England: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos near Porto Beilo, but being restricted by his orders from obeying the dictates of his courage, lay inactive on that station until he became the jeft of the Spaniards: be afterwards removed to Carthagena, and continued cruizing in these feas, till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This braSeeing his best officers and men thus daily Swept away, his Ships expofed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the Sport of the enemy, is faid to have died of a broken heart. See Smollet's hift.

ve man

The following Song is commonly accompanied with a Second Part, or Answer, which being of inferior merit, and apparently written by another hand, hath been rejected.

AS near Porto - Bello lying

On the gently fwelling flood,

At midnight with ftreamers flying
Our triumphant navy rode;

There