  We have been favoured by Mr William Sinclair with the following spirited translation of Mackay's first address to the fair-haired Anna, the heroine of the "Forsaken Drover" (vol. i. p. 315). In the enclosures of Crieff, the Highland bard laments his separation from the hills of Sutherland, and the object of his love. Easy is my pillow press'd But, oh! I cannot, cannot rest; Northwards do the shrill winds blow— Thither do my musings go! Better far with thee in groves, Where the young deers sportive roam, Than where, counting cattle droves, I must sickly sigh for home. Great the love I bear for her Where the north winds wander free, Sportive, kindly is her air, Pride and folly none hath she! Were I hiding from my foes, Aye, though fifty men were near, I should find concealment close In the shieling of my dear. Days when homewards I 'll repair— Joyful time to thee and me— Fair girl with the waving hair! Glorious all for hunting then, The rocky ridge, the hill, the fern; Sweet to drag the deer that 's slain Downwards by the piper's cairn! By the west field 'twas I told My love, with parting on my tongue; Long she 'll linger in that fold, With the kine assembled long! Dear to me the woods I know, Far from Crieff my musings are; Still with sheep my memories go, On our heath of knolls afar: Oh, for red-streak'd rocks so lone! Where, in spring, the young fawns leap, And the crags where winds have blown— Cheaply I should find my sleep. END OF VOL. II. |
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