Chapter 45 DEVOTION

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wished, the trysted hour!

Those smiles and glances let me see,

That mak the miser's treasure poor.

How blythely wad I bide the stoure,

A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Could I the rich reward secure,

The lovely Mary Morison!

Yestreen, when to the trembling string

The dance gaed through th