SONG.-FRAGMENT. HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, Her lips were roses wat wi' dew, BALLAD.-FRAGMENT. To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains, I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes, Yet to that heart, ah, still how dear! SONG.-FRAGMENT. THE winter it is past, and the simmer comes at last, The rose upon the brier by the waters running clear, May have charms for the linnet or the bee; Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest, But my true love is parted from me. |