with critical observations and biographical notices, by Robert Burns

79
My brother, guard my bairn, he said;,
She'll hae nae father soon,
Regard her, Donald, as your ain,
I'll ask nae other boon.
Would then my uncle force ray love^^
Whar love it coudna be ?
Or wed me to the man I hate ?
Was this his care of me ?
Can these brave men, who but of late
Together chas'd the deer.
Against their comrades bend their bows^
In bluidy hunting here ?
She spake, while trickling ran the tear
Her blushing cheek alang
And silence, like a heavy cloud.
O'er a' the warriors hang.
Syne stapt the red-hair'd Malcolm furth,
Three-score his years and three ;
Yet a' the strength of youngest youth,
In sic an eild had he.
Nae pity vv^as there in his breast.
For war alane he loo'd
His grey een spurkled at the sight,
Of plunder, death, and bluid.
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