THE LARK had left the evening cloud, | |
| The dew fell saft, the wind was lowne, | |
| Its gentle breath amang the flowers | |
| Scarce stirred the thistle’s tap o’ down; | |
| The dappled swallow left the pool | 5 |
| The stars were blinking owre the hill, | |
| As I met, amang the hawthorns green, | |
| The lovely lass of Preston Mill. | |
| |
| Her naked feet, amang the grass, | |
| Shone like twa dew-gemmed lilies fair; | 10 |
| Her brow shone comely ’mang her locks, | |
| Dark curling owre her shoulders bare; | |
| Her cheeks were rich wi’ bloomy youth; | |
| Her lips had words and wit at will; | |
| And heaven seemed looking through her een,— | 15 |
| The lovely lass of Preston Mill. | |
| |
| Quo’ I, “Sweet lass, will ye gang wi’ me, | |
| Where blackcocks craw, and plovers cry? | |
| Six hills are woolly wi’ my sheep, | |
| Six vales are lowing wi’ my kye: | 20 |
| I hae looked lang for a weel-faur’d lass, | |
| By Nithsdale’s holmes an’ monie a hill”; | |
| She hung her head like a dew-bent rose,— | |
| The lovely lass of Preston Mill. | |
| |
| Quo’ I, “Sweet maiden, look nae down, | 25 |
| But gie ’s a kiss, and gang wi’ me”: | |
| A lovelier face, O, never looked up, | |
| And the tears were drapping frae her ee: | |
| “I hae a lad, wha ’s far awa’, | |
| That weel could win a woman’s will; | 30 |
| My heart ’s already fu’ o’ love,” | |
| Quo’ the lovely lass of Preston Mill. | |
| |
| “Now wha is he wha could leave sic a lass, | |
| To seek for love in a far countree?”— | |
| Her tears drapped down like simmer dew: | 35 |
| I fain wad kissed them frae her ee. | |
| I took but ane o’ her comely cheek; | |
| “For pity’s sake, kind sir, be still! | |
| My heart is fu’ o’ other love,” | |
| Quo’ the lovely lass of Preston Mill. | 40 |
| |
| She stretched to heaven her twa white hands, | |
| And lifted up her watery ee: | |
| “Sae lang ’s my heart kens aught o’ God, | |
| Or light is gladsome to my ee; | |
| While woods grow green, and burns rin clear, | 45 |
| Till my last drap o’ blood be still, | |
| My heart shall haud nae other love,” | |
| Quo’ the lovely lass of Preston Mill. | |
| |
| There ’s comely maids on Dee’s wild banks, | |
| And Nith’s romantic vale is fu’; | 50 |
| By lanely Cluden’s hermit stream | |
| Dwells monie a gentle dame, I trow! | |
| O, they are lights of a gladsome kind, | |
| As ever shone on vale or hill; | |
| But there ’s a light puts them a’ out,— | 55 |
| The lovely lass of Preston Mill! | |
| |
