A collection of ancient and modern Scottish ballads, etc

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2m
A. Return, return, O mournful mournful bnde.
Return, and dry thy useless sorrow ;
Thy luver heeds nought of thy sighs.
He lyes a corps on the braes of Yarrow.
The foregoing ballad is probably founded oil the
following frat^ment :
" I dream'd a dreary dream last night;,
God keep us a' frae sorrow !
I dream'd I pu'd the birk sae green,
Wi' my true luve on Yarrow."
« I'll read your dream, my sister dear,
I'll tell you a' your sorrow
You pu'd the birk wi' your true luve;-
He's kill'dj^he's kill'd on Yarrow."
« gentle wind, that bloweth soutli,
To where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss from his dear mouth,
And tell me how he fareth !
*' But o'er yon glen run armed men.
Have wrought me dule and sorrow
They've slain, they've slain the comliest swain:
He bleeding lies on Yarrow."
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