Now nae langer sport and play,
Mirth and sang can please me!
Lesley is sae fair and coy,
Care and anguish seize me.
Heavy, heavy is the task,
Hopeless love declaring:
Trembling, I dow nocht but glower,
Sighing, dumb, despairing!
If she winna ease the thraws
In my bosom swelling;
Underneath the grass-green sod,
Soon maun be my dwelling.
OH, WERE MY LOVE YON LILAC FAIR.
OH, were my love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring;
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing:
How I wad mourn, when it was torn,
By autumn wild, and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
Oh, gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa'!
Oh there beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.
And pledge we ne'er shall suuder;
And I shall spurn as vilest dust
The warld's wealth and grandeur :
And do I hear my Jeanie own
That equal transports move her ?
I ask for dearest life alone,
That I may live to love her.
Thus in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure ;
I'll seek naa mair o' heaven to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure:
And by thy een, sae bonnie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never !
W. That danced to the lark's early song!
HERE are the joys I have met in the morning,
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,
At evening the wild woods among?
No more a-winding the course of yon river,
And marking sweet flow'rets so fair;
No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure,
But sorrow and sad sighing care.
Is it that Summer's forsaken our valleys,
And grim, surly Winter is near?
No, no the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride of the year.
Fain would I hide what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long too well have I known :
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Nor Hope dare a comfort bestow :
Come then, enamour'd and foud of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.
SAW YE MY PHELY?
HI, saw ye my dear, my Phely?
Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely?
She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love,
She winna come hame to her Willy.
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair-
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.
THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.
HOU hast left me ever, Jamic,
Thou hast left me ever;
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever.
Aften hast thou vow'd that death
Only should us sever;
Now thou'st left thy lass for aye-
I maun see thee never, Jamie,
I'll see thee never!
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken;
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken.
Thou canst love anither jo,
While my heart is breaking;
Soon my weary een I'll close-
Never mair to waken, Jamie,
Ne'er mair to waken!
CHILORIS.
Chloris, mark how
MY The primrose banks how fair:
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flaxen hair.
The laverock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings;
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
In lordly lighted ha';
The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blithe in the birken shaw.
The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn?
The shepherd in the flow'ry glen,
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale-
But is his heart as true?
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:
The courtiers' gems may witness love-
But 'tisna love like mine.
THE CHARMING MONTH OF MAY.
I was mo were fresh and gay,
T was the charming month of May,
One morning by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe;
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flowery mead she goes,
The youthful, charming Chloe.
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