As fweet smells on its braes the birk,

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The apple frae its rock as mellow.

Fair was thy luve, fair 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, my bouny bonny bride,
Bufk ye, bufk ye, my winfome marrow,

Bufk ye, and luve me on the banks of Tweed,
And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow.

C. How can I bufk a bonny bonny bride?

How can I busk a winfome marrow ?
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, For there, was bafely 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 kenn'd

75

He was in these to meet his ruin.

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The

The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed, 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.

80

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

85

My luver's blood is on thy fpear,

How canft thou, barbarous man, then woọe me?

My happy fifters may be, may be proud

With cruel, and ungentle fcoffin',

May bid me feek on Yarrow's Braes
My luver nailed in his coffin.

My brother Douglas may upbraid, upbraid,
And strive with threatning words to muve me :

My luver's blood is on thy fpear,

How canft thou ever bid me luve thee?

Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve,
With bridal sheets my body cover,
Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door,

Let in the expected husbande lover.

90

95

100 But

But who the expected husband husband is?
His hands, methinks, are bath'd in flaughter:
Ah me! what ghaftly spectre'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 these 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 restore thee!
Yet lye all night between my breifts,
No youth lay ever there before thee.

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.

105

115

120

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XXV.

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 bere fe pathetically reprefented, was briefly this. In April, 1726, that commander was fent with a strong fleet into the Spanish Weft-Indies, to block up the galleons in the Ports of that country, or fhould they prefume to come out, to feize and carry them into England: be accordingly arrived at the Baftimentos near Porto Bello, but being reftricted by his orders from obeying the dictates of his courage, lay inactive on that ftation until he became the jeft of the Spaniards: be afterwards removed to Carthagend, and continued cruizing in thefe feas, till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the difeafes of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, feeing his beft officers and men thus daily fwept away, his ships expofed to inevitable deftruction, and himfelf made the sport of the enemy, is faid to have died of a broken heart. See Smollet's hift.

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

There while Vernon fate all-glorious

From the Spaniards' late defeat:

And his crews, with fhouts victorious,

Drank fuccefs to England's fleet:

On a fudden fhrilly founding,

Hideous yells and fhrieks were heard ; > Then each heart with fear confounding, A fad troop of ghosts appear'd,

All in dreary hammocks fhrouded,
Which for winding-fheets they wore,
And with looks by forrow clouded
Frowning on that hoftile fhore.

On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre,
When the fhade of Hofier brave
His pale bands was feen to muster
Rifing from their watry grave:
O'er the glimmering wave he hy'd him,
Where the Burford rear'd her fail,
With three thousand ghofts befide him,
And in groans did Vernon hail.

*

Heed, oh heed our fatal ftory,

I am Hofier's injur'd ghost,

You, who now have purchas'd glory,
At this place where I was loft!

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*The Admiral's fhip.