O sad, sweet singer of a Spring!
Yours was a chill, uncheerful May,
And you knew no full days of June;
You ran too swiftly up the way,
And wearied soon, so over-soon!
You sang in weariness and woe;
You faltered, and God heard you sing,
Then touched your hand and led you so,
You found life's hill-top low, so low,
You crossed its summit long ere noon.
Thus sooner than one would suppose
Some weary feet will find repose.
Ayrshire.
FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.
NCENES of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew;
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu !
Bonny Doon, sae sweet at gloamin',
Fare thee weel before I gang;
Bonny Doon, whare, early roamin',
First I weaved the rustic sang.
Bowers, adieu! where love, decoying,
First enthralled this heart o' mine;
There the saftest sweets enjoying, –
Sweets that memory ne'er shall tine.
Friends sae near my bosom ever,
Ye ha'e rendered moments dear;
But, alas! when forced to sever,
Then the stroke, O how severe !
Friends, that parting tear reserve it,
Though 't is doubly dear to me;
Could I think I did deserve it,
How much happier would I be.
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew;
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!
ROY'S WIFE OF ALDIVALLOCH.
OY'S wife of Aldivalloch,
Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,
Wat ye how she cheated me
As I cam' o'er the braes of Balloch?
She vowed, she swore she wad be mine,
She said she lo'ed me best o' onie;
But, ah! the fickle, faithless quean,
She's ta'en the carl, and left her Johnnie.
Roy's wife, etc.
O, she was a canty quean,
An' weel could dance the Hieland walloch!
How happy I, had she been mine,
Or I been Roy of Aldivalloch!
Roy's wife, etc.
Her hair sae fair, her e'en sae clear,
Her wee bit mou' sae sweet and bonnie!
To me she ever will be dear,
Though she's forever left her Johnnie.
Roy's wife, etc.
Ballochmyle.
THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE.
HE Catrine woods were yellow seen,
The flowers decayed on Catrine lea, Nae laverock sang on hillock green,
But Nature sickened on the ee. Through faded groves Maria sang,
Hersel' in beauty's bloom the while, And aye the wildwood echoes rang, Fareweel the Braes o' Ballochmyle!
Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
Again ye 'll flourish fresh and fair;
Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers,
Again ye 'll charm the vocal air.
But here, alas! for me nae mair
Shall birdie charm or floweret smile;
Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,
Fareweel, fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle!
THE BONNIE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.
- the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang! The Zephyr wantoned round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang; In every glen the mavis sang,
All Nature listening seemed the while,
Except where greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.
With careless step I onward strayed,
My heart rejoiced in Nature's joy,
When, musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanced to spy.
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile;
Perfection whispered, passing by,
Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!
Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving through the garden gay,
Or wandering in the lonely wild :
But woman, Nature's darling child!
There all her charms she docs compile;
Even there her other works are foiled
By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Though sheltered in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotland's plain,
Through weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honors lofty shine;
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward seek the Indian mine;
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And every day has joys divine
With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
HE sun sinks in the west: rich orange hues
Change into purple, and a mellow haze
Falls on the mountains. Solemnly they lie,
In silent grandeur, mirrored on the lake,
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