How slow ye move, ye heavy hours; SONG. Tune, 'Duncan Gray.' LET not woman e'er complain, Look abroad through Nature's range, Nature's mighty law is change; Ladies, would it not be strange, Man should then a monster prove? Mark the winds, and mark the skies; Why then ask of silly man, You can be no more, you know. THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS. Tune, 'Deil tak the Wars.' SLEEP'ST thou or wak'st thou, fairest creature; Waters wi' the tears o' joy: And by the reeking floods; Wild Nature's tenants, freely, gladly stray; The lintwhite in his bower The lav'rock to the sky Ascends wi' sangs o' joy, While the sun and thou arise to bless the day. Phœbus gilding the brow o' morning, Banishes ilk darksome shade, Nature gladdening and adorning; Such to me my lovely maid. The murky shades o' care With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky; But when, in beauty's light, She meets my ravish'd sight, 'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy. THE AULD MAN. BUT lately seen in gladsome green But now our joys are fled On winter blasts awa! Yet maiden May, in rich array, But my white pow, nae kindly thowe Oh, age has weary days, And nights o' sleepless pain! SONG. Tune, My Lodging is on the cold groun.' My Chloris, mark how green the groves, The balmy gales awake the flowers, The lav'rock shuns the palace gay, Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string The shepherd stops his simple reed, The princely revel may survey The shepherd, in the flowery glen, These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck SONG, ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH ONE. Ir was the charming month of May, From peaceful slumber she arose, CHORUS. Lovely was she by the dawn, The feather'd people you might see Till, painting gay the eastern skies, LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. Tune, 'Rothemurche's Rant.' CHORUS. Lassie wi' the lint-white locks, Bonnie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks, Wilt thou be my dearie 0? VOL. XXXVIII. |