Page images
PDF
EPUB

I see a form, I see a face,

Ye weel may wi' the fairest place:
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that's in her ee.

She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall;
And aye it charms my very saul,

The kind love that's in her ee.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
To steal a blink, by a' unseen;
But gleg as light are lovers' een,
When kind love is in the ee.

It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learned clerks;
But weel the watching lover marks
The kind love that's in her ee,

The wretch whase doom is, "hope nae mair,"
What tongue his woes can tell!
Within whase bosom, save despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell.

Oh Bannie was non Rosy Brier.
Oн bonnie was yon rosy brier,

That blooms so far frae haunt o' man;
And bonnie she, and ah! how dear!
It shaded frae the e'enin' sun.
Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,

How pure amang the leaves sae green;
But purer was the lover's vow

They witnessed in their shade yestreen. All in its rude and prickly bower,

That crimson rose, how sweet and fair;

Now Spring has Clad the Groue in Green. But love is far a sweeter flower

(377)

Now spring has clad the

grove in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers:
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers;
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,

Oh why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps of woe!

The trout within yon wimpling burn
Glides swift--a silver dart;
And safe beneath the shady thorn
Defies the angler's art.

My life was auce that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I

But love, wi' unrelenting beam,

Has scorch'd my fountains dry.
The little flow'ret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,

Was mine; till love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom,
And now beneath the with'ring blast
My youth and joy consume.
The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs,
And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe her dewy wings
In morning's rosy eye.

As little reck'd I sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare

O' witching love, in luckless hour,
Made me the thrall o' care.

Oh, had my fate been Greenland snows,
Ór Afric's burning zone,

'Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes,
So Peggy ne'er I'd known!

Amid life's thorny path o' care.

The pathless wild and wimpling burn,
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;
And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn,
Its joys and griefs alike resign.

Forlorn my Loue, no Comfort near.

TUNE-Let me in this ane Night.
FORLORN my love, no comfort near.
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe
At which I most repine, love.

CHORUS.

Oh wert thou, love, but near me;
But near, near, near me:
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,

And mingle sighs with mine, love.
Around me scowls a wintry sky,
That blasts each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,

Save in those arms of thine, love.
Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
To poison fortune's ruthless dart-
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love,
But dreary tho' the moments fleet,
Oh let me think we yet shall meet!
That only ray of solace sweet

Can on thy Chloris shine, love.

Ben for a Lass wi' a Cacher.

TUNE-Balinamona ora.

Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, The slender bit beauty you grasp in your

arms.

Oh, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, Oh, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.

CHORUS.

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher-the nice yellow guineas for me.

Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows,

And withers the faster, the faster it grows : But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes, [yowes. Ilk spring they're new deckit wi bonnie white

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, [possest;

The brightest o' beauty may cloy when But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, [carest.

The langer ye hae them, the mair they're

Last May a Braw Woorr.

TUNE-The Lothian Lassie.

LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,

And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like menThe deuce gae wi'n to believe me, believe

me,

The deuce gae wi'm to believe me.

een,

IIe spak o' the darts o' my bonnie black
And vow'd for my love he was dying;
I said he might die when he liked for Jean-
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying!

A well-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,
But thought I might hae waur offers,
waur offers,

But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think ?-in a fortnight or less,

The deil tak his taste to gae near her! He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess (378), [could bear her, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

But a' the niest week as I fretted wi’ care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there!
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neibors might say I was saucy;

My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,

And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recovered her hearin',

And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet, [a-swearin', But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin', But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin'. He begged, for guidsake, I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi, sorrow:

So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, tomorrow,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

Fragment.

TUNE-The Caledonian Hunt's Delight. WHY, why tell thy lover,

Bliss he never must enjoy?

Why, why undeceive him,

And give all his hopes the lie?

Oh why, while fancy, raptur'd, slumbers,
Chloris, Chloris all the theme,
Why, why wouldst thou cruel,

Wake thy lover from his dream?

Irssy. (379)

CHORUS.

Here's a health to ane I loe dear !
HERE'S a health to ane I loe dear!

[meet, Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lover's

And soft as their parting tear--Jessy!

Altho' thou maun never be mine,
Altho' even hope is denied:

'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,

Then aught in the world beside-Jessy!

I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day,
As hopeless, I muse on thy charms;
But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
For then I am lock't in thy arms-Jessyl

244

BURNS'S POETICAL WORKS.

I guess by the dear angel smile,
I guess by the love rolling ee;
But why urge the tender confession,
'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree
Jessy!

Fairest Maid on Devon Banks.

TUNE-Rothiemurche.

CHORUS.

FAIREST maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,

And smile as thou were wont to do.
Full well thou know'st I love thee dear,
Could'st thou to malice lend an ear?
Oh, did not love exclaim "Forbear,

Nor use a faithfu' lover so!"

Then come, thou fairest of the fair,

Those wonted smiles, oh let me share! And, by thy beauteous self I swear,

No love but thine my heart shall know.

Bandsome Hell. (380)

OH once I lov'd a bonnie lass,

Ay, and I love her still

;

And whilst that honour warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell.

As bonnie lasses I hae seen,

And mony full as braw;

But for a modest gracefu' mien,
The like I never saw.

A bonnie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the ee,

But without some better qualities,

She's no the lass for me.

But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet,
And, what is best of a',

Her reputation is complete,

And fair without a flaw.

She dresses aye sae clean and neat,

Both decent and genteel:

And then there's something in her gait
Gars ony dress look weel.

A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
That polishes the dart.

"Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul;
For absolutely in my breast

She reigns without control.

My Father was a Farmer. (381) TUNE-The Weaver and his Shuttle, O.

My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O, [order, O; And carefully he bred me in decency and He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O;

For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.

Then out into the world, my course I did determine, O;

Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming, O:

My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education, O;

Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation, O.

In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favour, 0;

Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour, O. Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd; sometimes by friends forsaken, O; And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O.

Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with fortune's vain delusion, O,

I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion, O—

The past was bad, and the future hid; its good or ill untried, O;

But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it, O.

No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me, O;

So I must toil, and sweat and broil, and labour to sustain me, 0:

[ocr errors]

To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O;

For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O.

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O,

Till down my weary bones I lay, in everlasting slumber, O.

No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, ()!

I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of tomorrow, O.

But cheerful still, I am as well, as a monarch in a palace, O,

Tho' fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice, 0 :

I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther, O;

But, as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O.

When sometimes by my labour I earn a

little mony, O,

Some unforseen misfortune comes gen'rally upon me, 0:

Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my good-natur'd folly, O;

But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy, O.

All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O,

The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther, O:

Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, 0,

A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you, O.

Ap in the Morning early.

TUNE-Cold blows the Wind.

CHORUS.

Up in the morning's no for me,

Up in the morning early :

When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,

I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;

Sae loud and shrill I hear the blast,
I'm sure its winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely;

And lang's the night frae e'en to morn-
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Bey, the Dusty Aliller.
TUNE-The Dusty Miller.

HEY, the dusty miller,
And his dusty coat;
He will win a shilling,
Or he spend a groat.
Dusty was the Coat,
Dusty was the colour,
Dusty was the kiss

That I got frae the miller.

Hey, the dusty miller,
And his dusty sack;

Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck--
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller;
I wad gie my coatie
For the dusty miller.

Robin. (382)

TUNE-Dainty Davie.

THERE was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o' whatna style

I doubt it's hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi' Robin.
Robin was a rovin' boy,
Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin";
Robin was a rovin' boy,

Rantin' rovin' Robin!

Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
"Twas then a blast o' Janwar' win'
Blew hausel in on Robin.

The gossip keekit in his loof,

Quo scho, wha lives will see the proof, This waly boy will be nae coof;

I think we'll ca' him Robin. He'll hae misfortunes great and sma', But aye a heart aboon them a' He'll be a credit till us a’

We'll a' be proud o' Robin.

;

[blocks in formation]

The Sons of Old Killie. (386)
TUNE-Shawnboy.

YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;

I gat it frae a brisk young sodger laddie, Between Saint Johnston and bonnie Dundee,

Oh, gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!
Aft has he doudled me upon his knee;

Your thrifty old mother has scarce such May heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie,

another

To sit in that honoured station.

I've little to say, but only to pray,

As praying's the ton of your fashion; A prayer from the muse you well may excuse, Tis seldom her favourite passion.

Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide,

Who marked each element's border ; Who formed this frame with beneficent aim, Whose sovereign statute is order; Within this dear mansion may wayward contention

Or withered envy ne'er enter;

May secrecy round be the mystical bound, And brotherly love be the centre.

The Sayful Widower.
TUNE-Maggy Lauder.

I MARRIED with a scolding wife,
The fourteenth of November;
She made me weary of my life,
By one unruly member.
Long did I bear the heavy yoke,
And many griefs attended;
But, to my comfort be it spoke,
Now, now her life is ended.

We lived full one-and-twenty years,

A man and wife together;

At length from me her course she steer'd,
And gone I know not whither :
Would I could guess, I do profess,
I speak, and do not flatter,

Of all the women in the world,
I never could come at her.

Her body is bestowed well,

A handsome grave does hide her; But sure her soul is not in hell,

The deil would ne'er abide her! I rather think she is aloft,

And imitating thunder;

For why ?-methinks I hear her voice
Tearing the clouds asunder!

O, Whare did qan Get? (386)

TUNE-Bonnie Dundee,

O, WHARE did you get that hauver meal bannock?

Oh silly blind body, oh dinna ye see?

[blocks in formation]

There was a Lass.

TUNE-Duncan Davison.

THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, And she held o'er the moors to spin; There was a lad that follow'd her,

;

They ca'd him Duncan Davison. The moor was driegh, and Meg was skeigh, Her favour Duncan could na win For wi' the rock she wad him knock, And aye she shook the temper-pin. As o'er the moor they lightly foor,

A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks, And aye she set the wheel between: But Duncan swore a haly aith

That Meg should be a bride the morn, Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, And flung them a' out o'er the burn. We'll big a house-a wee, wee house,

And we will live like king and queen,
Sae blythe and merry we will be

When ye set by the wheel at e'en.
A man may drink and no be drunk;
A man may fight and no be slain;
A man may kiss a bonnie lass,
And
aye be welcome back again.

Landlady, Caunt the Lawin!

TUNE-Hey tuttie, taitie.
LANDLADY, Count the lawin,
The day is near the dawin;
Ye're a' blind drunk, boys,
And I'm but jolly fou.
Hey tuttie, taitie,
How tuttie, taitie-
Wha's fou now?

« PreviousContinue »