But what a weary wight can please,
And care his bosom wringing?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet darena for your anger;

But secret love will break my heart
If I conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,

If thou shalt love anither,

When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,

Around my grave they'll wither.

Robert Burns.

'T

Craigie Hill.

THE LASS O' CRAIGIE HILL.

WAS at the hour of gloamin' fa',

The sun had rowed him to his rest,

Ae bonnie star, the star o' love,

Sat smiling in the dappled west,

The wind had left the sea's lone breast,
And 'mang the birk-tree leaves lay still,
When, sweeter than the wild thyme's breath,
I met the lass o' Craigie Hill.

A fragrant odor scarcely fanned
The water-lily's gentle brow,
Wi' laden wing it stole and leant

Upon the lamb amang the dew;

Nor woke the throstle as he slept,
And dreamed o' many a joyous trill,
Amang the lovely beechen groves

That shade the lass o' Craigie Hill.

The beauty of Elora's fane

Kissed by the ruby lips o' morn, And haloed o'er wi' pearly gems,

The purest e'er from ocean borne,
May feast the soul o' pilgrim worn,
And make his raptured bosom thrill,
A fairer sight now blessed my eyes,
The bonnie lass o' Craigie Hill.

She walked in gladness like the morn
Alang the dewy velvet green,

The brow o' night grew fair and bright,
Enamored wi' her bonnie een;

And on her peerless cheeks were seen
The hues that opening rosebuds fill,
When summer skies, in rainbow dyes,
Bend o'er the lass o' Craigie Hill.

That balmy eve, that lassie fair,

The looks o' love she gave to me,
Still glow within my bosom's core,
As diamonds in the deep, deep sea.
And till I lie on death's dark lea,

By elm-tree shade or mountain rill,
The pole star o' my heart shall be
The bonnie lass o' Craigie Hill.

James Macdonald.

Craigie Lea.

THE BONNY WOOD OF CRAIGIE LEA.

HOU bonny wood of Craigie lea!

THOU

Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea! Near thee I passed life's early day,

And won my Mary's heart in thee.

The broom, the brier, the birken bush
Bloom bonny o'er thy flowery lea,
And a' the sweets that ane can wish
Frae Nature's hand are strewed on thee.
Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea.

Far ben thy dark green plantin's shade,
The cooshat croodles am'rously,
The mavis, down thy bughted glade,
Gars echo ring frae every tree.

Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea.

Awa', ye thoughtless, murd'ring gang,
Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee!
They'll sing you yet a canty sang,
Then, O, in pity, let them be!

Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea.

When winter blaws in sleety showers
Frae aff the norlan' hills sae hie,

He lightly skiffs thy bonny bowers,

As laith to harm a flower in thee.

Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea.

Though Fate should drag me south the line,
Or o'er the wide Atlantic sea;

The happy hours I'll ever mind,

That I, in youth, ha'e spent in thee.

Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea.

Robert Tannahill.

Cramond.

WRITTEN ON CRAMOND BEACH.

AREWELL, old playmate! on thy sandy shore
My lingering feet will leave their print no more;
To thy loved side I never may return.
I pray thee, old companion, make due mourn
For the wild spirit who so oft has stood
Gazing in love and wonder on thy flood.
The form is now departing far away,
That half in anger, oft, and half in play,
Thou hast pursued with thy white showers of foam.
Thy waters daily will besiege the home

I loved among the rocks; but there will be
No laughing cry to hail thy victory,

Such as was wont to greet thee when I fled,
With hurried footsteps and averted head,

Like fallen monarch, from my venturous stand,
Chased by thy billows far along the sand.
And when at eventide thy warm waves drink
The amber clouds that in their bosom sink,
When sober twilight over thee has spread
Her purple pall, when the glad day is dead,
My voice no more will mingle with the dirge
That rose in mighty moaning from thy surge,
Filling with awful harmony the air,

When thy vast soul and mine were joined in prayer.

Frances Anne Kemble.

THOU

Crawfurdland.

FAREWELL TO CRAWFURDLAND.

HOU dark stream slow wending thy deep rocky way, Ye gray towers that rise o'er the daffodil brae, I've viewed you with pleasure, but now must with pain

Farewell! for I never may see you again.

Ye woods where in life's gladsome morning I strayed,
When all was in sunshine and beauty arrayed;
That dream has departed, how fleeting and vain
Farewell! for I never may see you again.

O'er moss and o'er moorland my path soon shall be,
The cloud-covered mountain and wide stormy sea,
Your beauties will gladden some happier swain -
Farewell! for I never may see you again.

John Ramsay.