For old hereditary right,
      For conscience’ sake they stoutly stood;
    And for the crown their valiant sons
      Themselves have shed their injured blood;
    And if their fathers ne’er had fought
      For heirs of ancient royalty,
    They ’re down the day that might hae been
      At the top o’ honour’s tree a’.

[64] This song having become known to George IV., it is said to have induced his Majesty to award the royal sanction for the restitution of the title of Baron to Lady Nairn’s husband.—­(See Memoir.)

TRUE LOVE IS WATERED AYE WI’ TEARS.[65]

    True love is water’d aye wi’ tears,
      It grows ’neath stormy skies,
    It ‘s fenced around wi’ hopes and fears
      An’ fann’d wi’ heartfelt sighs. 
    Wi’ chains o’ gowd it will no be bound,
      Oh! wha the heart can buy? 
    The titled glare, the warldling’s care,
      Even absence ’twill defy,
                         Even absence ’twill defy.

    And time, that kills a’ ither things,
      His withering touch ’twill brave,
    ’Twill live in joy, ’twill live in grief,
      ’Twill live beyond the grave! 
    ’Twill live, ’twill live, though buried deep,
      In true heart’s memorie—­
    Oh! we forgot that ane sae fair,
      Sae bricht, sae young, could dee,
                         Sae young could dee.

    Unfeeling hands may touch the chord
      Where buried griefs do lie—­
    How many silent agonies
      May that rude touch untie! 
    But, oh!  I love that plaintive lay—­
      That dear auld melodie! 
    For, oh, ’tis sweet!—­yet I maun greet,
      For it was sung by thee,
                         Sung by thee!

    They may forget wha lichtly love,
      Or feel but beauty’s chain;
    But they wha loved a heavenly mind
      Can never love again! 
    A’ my dreams o’ warld’s guid
      Aye were turn’d wi’ thee,
    But I leant on a broken reed
      Which soon was ta’en frae me,
                         Ta’en frae me.

    ’Tis weel, ’tis weel, we dinna ken
      What we may live to see,
    ’Twas Mercy’s hand that hung the veil
      O’er sad futurity! 
    Oh, ye whose hearts are scathed and riven,
      Wha feel the warld is vain,
    Oh, fix your broken earthly ties
      Where they ne’er will break again,
                         Break again!

[65] Here first printed.

AH, LITTLE DID MY MOTHER THINK.[66]

    Ah, little did my mother think
      When to me she sung,
    What a heartbreak I would be,
      Her young and dautit son.

    And oh! how fond she was o’ me
      In plaid and bonnet braw,
    When I bade farewell to the north countrie,
      And marching gaed awa!