Her robes light waving in the breeze Her tender limbs embrace; Her lovely form, her native ease, A faltering, ardent kiss he stole ; He gazed, he wished, he feared, he blushed, And sighed his very soul. As flies the partridge from the brake On fear-inspired wings, So Nelly starting, half awake, But Willie followed, as he should; He overtook her in the wood; He vowed, he prayed, he found the maid MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. TUNE-Faille na Miosg. In this song Burns caught up the single streak of poetry which existed in a well-known old stall song, entitled The Strong Walls of Derry, and which com mences thus: "The first day I landed, 'twas on Irish ground, The tidings came to me from fair Derry town, That my love was married, and to my sad wo, And I lost my first love by courting too slow." After many stanzas of similar doggerel, the author breaks out, as under an inspiration, with the one fine verse, which Burns afterwards seized as a basis for his own beautiful ditty: "My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birthplace of valour, the country of worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys be low; Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. THE BANKS OF NITH. TUNE - Robie donna Gorach. THE Thames flows proudly to the sea, Where Cummins ance had high command. How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales," Where lambkins wanton through the broom Though wandering, now, must be my doom, Far from thy bonny banks and braes, May there my latest hours consume, Amang the friends of early days! MY HEART IS A-BREAKING, DEAR TITTIE! My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie! Some counsel unto me come len', To anger them a' is a pity, But what will I do wi' Tam Glen? I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow In poortith I might make a fen'; What care I in riches to wallow, If I maunna marry Tam Glen? sister poverty shift There's Lowrie, the Laird o' Drumeller, Guid-day to you, brute! he comes ben; He brags and he blaws o' his siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen? My minnie does constantly deave me, mother-deafen And bids me beware o' young men : They flatter, she says, to deceive me, My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, bound Yestreen at the valentines' dealing, The last Halloween I was waukin watching wet My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken; His likeness cam' up the house staukin, And the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen! Come counsel, dear tittie! don't tarry |