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I ance knew content, but its smiles are awa',
The broom blooms bonnie, an' grows sae fair;
Each tried friend forsakes me, sweet Phebe an' a',
So I never will gae down to the broom ony mair.

How light was my step, and my heart, O how gay!
The broom blooms bonnie, the broom blooms fair;
Till Phebe was crown'd our queen of the May,


When the bloom o' the broom strew'd its sweets on the

She was mine when the snaw-draps hung white on the lea, Ere the broom bloom'd bonnie, an' grew sae fair;

Till May-day, anither wysed Phebe frae me,

So I ne'er will gae down to the broom ony mair.

Sing, Love, thy fond promises melt like the snaw,
When broom waves lonely, an' bleak blaws the air;
For Phebe to me now is naething ava,


my heart could say, "Gang to the broom nae mair."

Durst I trow that thy dreams in the night hover o'er,
Where broom blooms bonnie, an' grows sae fair;
The swain (who, while waking, thou thinks of no more,)
Whisp'ring, "Love, will ye gang to the broom ony mair?"

No! Fare thee well Phebe; I'm owre wae to weep,
Or to think o' the broom growing bonnie an' fair;
Since thy heart is anither's, in death I maun sleep,
'Neath the broom on the lea, an' the bawm sunny air.



In Johnson's "Musical Museum," we find the fragment of a repulsive legendary Ballad, with a similar burthen to that of the foregoing. There is also a traditional Ballad upon record, of which we regret our inability to procure more than the commencing stanza :

Ae king's dochter said to anither,

Broom blooms bonnie, an' grows sae fair,

We'll gae ride like sister and brither,

But we'll never gae down to the broom nae mair.

Again, Sir Walter Scott causes his Effie Deans, in the "Heart of Mid-Lothian," to sing a stanza of a similar choral Ballad:

The elfin knight sat on the brae,

The broom grows bonnie, the broom grows fair,
And by there cam' lilting a lady so gay,

And we darna' gang down to the broom nae mair.



How bonnie is the glen in the greenwood shaw,
Where the wild roses bloom, and the breezes blaw
Through the sunny summer dells,

Where the woodland music swells

O'er the lily, and the bonnie blue Forget-me-not.

O tell me a flower in the garden or wild,

So modest, and so peerless, as summer's fair child;
Not a brighter floweret blows,

Even the blush celestial-rose,

Must yield to the bonnie blue Forget-me-not.


By the cress-cover'd fountain where its sparkling waters run, Thy azure star with golden breast is smiling to the sun, While the violets that bloom

Round the fane at Beauty's tomb,

Are gemm'd with the bonnie blue Forget-me-not.

Dearest emblem of Friendship, thou beauty of the grove! Thy pale blue eye, like my Laura's, beams with love; And when Laura courts the shade,

Whisper softly to the maid,

That thy name, lovely flower! is Forget-me-not.

Marsh Scorpion grass, the Myosotis Palustris of botanists, is a wild flower possessing uncommon beauty. This Token Flower, the Forget-me-not, is the acknowledged emblem of Friendship throughout every country of civilized Europe. Five species of this beautiful genus of plants are natives of Scotland.

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