MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN. Tune-" Druimion dubh." [The air of this song is from the Highlands: the verses were written in compliment to the feelings of Mrs. M'Lauchlan, whose husband was an officer serving in the East Indies.] MUSING on the roaring ocean, Which divides my love and me; Hope and fear's alternate billow Ye whom sorrow never wounded, Gentle night, do thou befriend me; Downy sleep, the curtain draw; Spirits kind, again attend me, Talk of him that's far awa! BLITHE WAS SHE. Tune-" Andro and his cutty gun.” [The heroine of this song, Euphemia Murray of Lintrose, was justly called the "Flower of Strathmore:" she is now widow of Lord Methven, one of he Scottish judges, and mother of a fine family. The song was written at Ochtertyre, in June, 1787.] CHORUS. Blithe, blithe and merry was she, Blithe was she but and ben: Blithe by the banks of Ern, And blithe in Glenturit glen. By Auchtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks the birken shaw; But Phemie who a bonnier lass Her looks were like a flow'er in May, As light's a bird upon a thorn. Her bonnie face it was as meek The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet, The Highland hills I've wander'd wide, Blithe by the banks of Ern, And blithe in Glenturit glen. THE BLUDE RED ROSE AT YULE MAY BLAW. Tune-" To daunton me." [The Jacobite strain of "To daunton me," must have been in the mind of the poet when he wrote this pithy lyric for tb Museum.] THE blude red rose at Yule may blaw, The simmer lilies bloom in snaw, For a' his meal and a' his maut, For a' his fresh beef and his saut, For a' his gold and white monie, An auld man shall never daunton me. His gear may buy him kye and yowes, For an auld man shall never daunton me. He hirples twa fauld as he dow, Wi' his teethless gab and his auld beld pow, And the rain rains down frae his red bleer'd ee That old man shall never daunton me. To daunton me, and me sae young, For an auld man shall never daunton me. COME BOAT ME O'ER TO CHARLIE. Tune-" O'er the water to Charlie." [The second stanza of this song, and nearly all the third, are by Burns. Many songs, Rome of merit, on the same subject, and to the same air, were in other days current in Scotland.] COME boat me o'er, come row me o'er, Come boat me o'er to Charlie; To boat me o'er to Charlie. We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea, Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, I lo'e weel my Charlie's name, I swear and vow by moon and stars, We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea, We'll o'er the water to Charlie; Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK. Tune-" The Rose-bud." [The "Rose-bud" of these sweet verses was Miss Jean Cruikshank, afterwards Mrs. Henderson, daughter of William Cruikshank, of St. James's Square, one of the masters of the High School of Edinburgh: she is also the subject of a poem equally sweet.] A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Adown a corn-enclosed bawk, All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, In a' its crimson glory spread, Within the bush, her covert nest Sae early in the morning. She soon shall see her tender brood, So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair, RATTLIN', ROARIN' WILLIE. Tune-" Rattlin', roarin' Willie.” ["The hero of this chant," says Burns, "was one of the worthiest fellows in the world -William Dunbar, Esq., Writer to the Signet, Edinburgh, and Colonel of the Crochallan corps-a club of wits, who took that title at the time of raising the fencible regiments."] O RATTLIN', roarin' Willie, O, he held to the fair, An' buy some other ware; The saut tear blint his ee; O Willie, come sell your fiddle, And buy a pint o' wine! If I should sell my fiddle, The warl' would think I was mad; For mony a rantin' day My fiddle and I hae had. As I cam by Crochallan, I cannily keekit ben-- Was sittin' at yon board en'; And amang good companie; Ye're welcome hame to me! |