| |
| AS I came wandering down Glen Spean, | |
| Where the braes are green and grassy, | |
| With my light step I overtook | |
| A weary-footed lassie. | |
| |
| She had one bundle on her back, | 5 |
| Another in her hand, | |
| And she walk’d as one who was full loath | |
| To travel from the land. | |
| |
| Quoth I, “My bonnie lass!”—for she | |
| Had hair of flowing gold, | 10 |
| And dark brown eyes, and dainty limbs, | |
| Right pleasant to behold— | |
| |
| “My bonnie lass, what aileth thee, | |
| On this bright summer day, | |
| To travel sad and shoeless thus | 15 |
| Upon the stony way? | |
| |
| “I ’m fresh and strong, and stoutly shod, | |
| And thou art burden’d so; | |
| March lightly now, and let me bear | |
| The bundles as we go.” | 20 |
| |
| “No, no!” she said, “that may not be; | |
| What ’s mine is mine to bear; | |
| Of good or ill, as God may will, | |
| I take my portion’d share.” | |
| |
| “But you have two, and I have none; | 25 |
| One burden give to me; | |
| I ’ll take that bundle from thy back | |
| That heavier seems to be.” | |
| |
| “No, no!” she said; “this, if you will, | |
| That holds—no hand but mine | 30 |
| May bear its weight from dear Glen Spean | |
| ’Cross the Atlantic brine!” | |
| |
| “Well, well! but tell me what may be | |
| Within that precious load, | |
| Which thou dost bear with such fine care | 35 |
| Along the dusty road? | |
| |
| “Belike it is some present rare | |
| From friend in parting hour; | |
| Perhaps, as prudent maidens wont, | |
| Thou tak’st with thee thy dower.” | 40 |
| |
| She droop’d her head, and with her hand | |
| She gave a mournful wave: | |
| “Oh, do not jest, dear sir!—it is | |
| Turf from my mother’s grave!” | |
| |
| I spoke no word: we sat and wept | 45 |
| By the road-side together; | |
| No purer dew on that bright day | |
| W as dropp’d upon the heather. | |
| |
