Jock O' Hazeldean.

"Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
And dry that cheek so pale,
Young Frank is chief of Errington,
And lord of Langley Dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',
His sword in battle keen;"—
But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock o' Hazeldean.

["A chain o' gold ye shall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost o' them a',
Shall ride our forest queen—
But aye she loot the tears down fa',
For Jock o' Hazeldean.]

The kirk was deck'd at morning tide,
The tapers glimmer'd fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight were there.
They sought her baith by bower and ha';
The adye was not seen!
She's (wer the border, and awa
Wi' Jock o' Hazeldean!