O R IG IN AL SO N G S .

R O B E R T G I LFI LL AN . $72

E DINBU RGH

U B LI S H E D B Y JO HN AND E RS O J U N . P N , 55 N O R T H B I D , R G E ;

W H I T T A KE R T R E A H E R A N O O , C D CO . L N D N A N D

JA M E S B U R N E 'I' LE , I T H .

1 83 1 .

ALLAN UN H E S . C NING AM , !

AS A H U MB L E T R I B U T E

OF T M A N D FOR H I S ‘VOR TH A M AN E S E E RESPECT AS ,

A N D H I S T L N T P T A E S AS A OE ,

TH IS VOLUME

S ' ‘ I , \Vl l H H I S P E R M LS S I ON , I N S C R I B E D B Y

TH E AUTH O R .

P R E FA C E .

TH AT the obtrusion on the public of thi s little Volume

ON will I of S GS be deemed an act of temerity , am pre

' e I I pared to exp ct and am also prepared , if am not much mistaken , to bear, w ith all patience and humility , the animadversion s to w hich that temeri ty may subject

s fi I me perfectly sati ed as am that , i n general , every th f justice w ill be done me, and at if my humble e forts a t s t Song pos ess any merit , hat merit w ill be readily

. t ackno w ledged If, on the contrary , hey are found I I w anting, shall , trust , derive a lesson from the issue , w hich w ill be useful to me hereafter ! thus I conceive t I tha , i n either event , shall not be altogether a loser .

I t I o is customary , believe , w ith aspirants in p etry to apologize for the intrusion of their lucubrations on the public ,

Ob e d b hu n e r o r re u e st o f r e n ds . lig y g , q f i

s I a ff For my elf, have neither of these pologies to o er,

I o r nor any other, fear, that w uld be conside ed sati sfac — tony Some of my S ongs m e t w i th the a pprobation of a viii P R E FAC E .

of pretty numerous circle acquaintance . Encouraged by this li mited and partial success to hope that this gra tifica tion I might be a little extended, have ventured on the some w hat hazardous step w hich has rendered these introductory lines necessary and this is all I have to offer in extenuation of my hardihood .

R TAN It may be thought that the names of BU NS, of

N AH I LL MAC N E I L L s , and of , as w ell as tho e of the living masters of Scottish Song, might have deterred me from t I o his attempt but beg it to be understo d, as it most i I certainly is my o w n feel ng on the subject, that enter the lists w ith no pretensions to the character of a com — petitor, but merely as a humble follo w er not as a

n . belted k ight , but as a lo w ly squire t Had my education been better than it is, this li tle Work w ould probably have presented fe w er i n e le gan

u o cies of lang age, and fe w er vi lations of grammar, than it no w exhibits . As the former, ho w ever, is a circum

v I i n dul stance o er w hich had no control, some small gence on the latter points m ay possibly be granted me .

R . G .

LE H S P . 1 83 1 . IT , E T ORI GI N A L S O N GS .

M R ’ A Y S BOWE R.

‘ S e t to a n or n a l me lo b P E T E R M LE ( ig i dy , y OD . )

’ TH E bowe r mavis sings on Mary s , The lav ’ rock i n the sky

’ ’ ’ s An a is fair round Mary bo w er , An ’ a ’ aboon isjoy !

’ ’ But sad s the gloom in Mary s bo w er , Though a ’ w ithout be gay

to m om Nae music comes greet the ,

o Nae smile t glad the day . ’ M A R Y S B OWE R .

’ Her lover left young Mary s bo w er,

His ship has crossed the main ;

’ ’ ’ There s w aefu ne w s in Mary s bo w er,

’ He ne er returns again .

’ ’ A n o breaki g heart s in Mary s b w er, A w asting form is there

’ e e The glance has left that sae blue,

The rose that cheek sae fair .

’ The mavis flees frae Mary s bo w er, The lav ’ rock quits the sky

’ ’ ’ An simmer sighs o er Mary s bo w er,

’ For coming w inter s nigh .

’ ’ The sna w fa s w hite on Mary s bo w er, The tempests loudly rave

’ The flo w ers that bloomed round Mary s bo w e r No w w ither on her grave [ 3 ]

' TH E HAPPY DAY S 0 YOUTH .

T U N E l a i n Cou n tr ie .

’ 0 ! 0 TH E happy days youth , Are fast gaun by

’ An age is coming on ,

’ ’ Wi it s bleak w inter sky . An ’ w har shall w e shelter Frae its storms w hen they bla w !

’ When the gladsome day s 0 youth Are flo w n a w a ’

They said that w isdom cam

’ W1 manhood s riper years , But naething did they tell

’ 0 its sorro w s and tears . ’ TH E H APPY D AY S 0 YOUTH .

’ ’ O I d gie a the w it ,

Wi t Gif ony be mine,

For ae sunny morning

’ 0 bonnie langsyne .

I canna do w but sigh , I canna do w but mourn , For the blythe happy days

That never can return .

When joy w as in the heart,

’ An love w as on the tongue,

’ An mirth on ilka face,

For ilka face w as young .

0 ! the bonnie w aving broom , Whar aften w e did meet Wi ’ f its yello w lo w ers, that fell

’ Like go w d m an g ou r feet .

’ i ts The bird w ould stop sang,

But only for a w e e

i ts As w e gaed by nest ,

Near it s a im birk tree . ’ T H E H APP Y D A Y S 0 Y O UTH .

’ 0 O the sunny days youth, They couldna aye remain

There w as o w er muckle joy ,

’ An o w er little pain .

fare w e e l Sae happy days ,

’ ’ An fare we e l you thf u glee

n m a s The you g y court your smile ,

’ But ye re gane frae me .

I t JM M I I I I M '

L G EN YALVE N BRAES .

( Wa i T T E N I N An GY LS H m E i N T H E S U M ME R or

T U N E Log a n Wa te r .

GLE N Y ALV E N wr th v alle s , y y green ,

’ ou ki n An j burnies scarcely seen ,

' ’ ’ A- li st n i n the s g to cuckoo sang,

’ I ve tint my heart thy braes amang . GL E N Y ALV E N B R AES .

Thy mountain breezes saftly bla w ,

’ ’ An s w eet s the flo w er in Y alv e n sha w

Thy w oods are green , thy braes are fair ,

’ ’ An a bonnie Highland lassie s there .

i Ta v alloch Wand r ng doun y burn ,

’ A n wi bon ie stream mony a turn, I met the maiden blushing young,

’ Wi Highland heart and Highland tongue . Wi ’ ’ I looks an sighs her did w oo,

’ a f u Though mute the tongue, the he rt w as ’ w But vain my sighs an silent vo s,

She wouldn a leave her heathery kno w es .

I ’ My La w land pipe sey d to play , To steal the lassie’ s heart a w ay

But s w eetly she, in Highland sang l — wou dn a . Replied, She couldna gang

She gave her hand, but kept her heart

’ An yet, w hen rising to depart ,

’ ’ A tear upo her cheek had fa n,

- Like de w drap on a rose ne w bla w n . G L E N Y A L V E N B RAES .

f

’ Ta v alloch Y alv e n y burn , an braes ,

’ Though still unsung in bardie s lays ,

’ Ye re dear, O dearer far to me,

’ ’ 0 D e e . Than Braes o Doon , or Banks

’ Adieu thou land of hill an glen ,

Of lovely and gallant men ! ’maids on In gazing the fairest she ,

’ — I ve tint my peace m y heart in thee

WHY TARRIES M Y TRUE LOVE !

T U N E R obi n A da i r .

WH Y tarries my true love so long on se a ! ! l ! Spirits of ocean tel , w hy tarries he D ark is the midnight sky, Loud raves the storm on high !

Where close th he his eve P

To dream of me ! 8 WH Y T AR R IE S M Y T R U E LO V E

When once my love returns, w e part no more ! ! ! Spirits oh w here is he, by sea or shore

’ Far in the ocean s deeps ,

Where death his vigil keeps,

There thy fond lover sleeps, ’ Neath its loud roar

THE SAFT SIMME R B ’ ENIN ’ IS GLIDING

’ AWA .

T N H i e bonn e La ss e bl n k ove r the bu r n . U E , i i , i

’ ’ TH E e e ni n i s saft simmer gliding a w a ,

’ ’ ’ ’ An a thing is still, baith in cot an in ha

’ ’ ’ ilk e e There s peace for ilk bosom and sleep for , ! But Jeanie, young Jeanie, has sto w n them frae me

’ ’ I w 1 0 An yet might sleep , a heart free care,

’ ’ e a n i e s as as she s n For J true ‘ bon ie and fair , ’ ’ TH E SAFT SI M M E R B E N I N I S GL I DI N G A‘VA . q

’ But , for joy at the thocht , I m w hiles like to dee,

t n Tha Jeanie, you g Jeanie, my ain bride sal be

’ ' If I hae nae w alth, I ve as little to tine, It ’ s maybe as w eel that w alth isna mine ’ T w ould only divide the love her ’ s a’ suld be

’ e an ie s O Jeanie, young J the treasure for me

’ It is nae aye simmer w hen I m on the hill ,

’ ’ An w inter is cauld, an frosty w inds chill

’ But this cheers my heart , w hen the sna w s on the

That Jeanie, young Jeanie, my ain bride sal be

’ her hi t I ll pit s w eet name in some simple sang,

’ ’ ’ ’ Arr sing t to mysel a the simmer day lang ;

’ be My skill is but sma , but the burden sal ,

’ s O Jeanie , young Jeanie the treasure for me

’ ou I ll big a w ee housie, far up in y glen ,

No mony w ill see it , no mony sal ken

’ But w hen the bro w n leaves fa frae yon bi rke u tre e

0 a i n l sa . Jeanie , young Jeanie , my bride be [ 1 0 ]

L KE D I O . OO L NG AT THY WINDOW , LOVE

Th u e y o ng M ay M oon .

I L K D OO E long at thy w indo w , love ,

Thy lovely s w eet glance to see, my love

’ The e v n i n g su n

On thy w indo w shone, I h And thought for a w hile it w as t ee, my

’ cam st But w hen thou w ith a smile , my love, a A smile th t is just thine o w n , my love

The sun , at thy sight,

Withdre w his clear light,

v And left thee shining alone, my lo e

0 e Then , give a smile to me , my lov ,

Who often have sighed for thee, my love

1 2 O ! C O U L D I LOS E THE POWE R OF TH OU GHT .

e t h And y , thoug anguish w rings my soul, Would I the task forego

’ ’ Of counting o er each moment pass d

’ P With her w ho cau s d my w oe

I loved as none have ever loved,

’ Whate er their love might be, Else w ould not parting With her w rung

Such bitter pangs from me .

W h Yet , musing on hat mig t have been , I dream my time a w ay

’ Tis idle as my early dreams ,

’

! ti s n ot . But , ah so gay

a e t If aught of ple sure y is mine, A pleasure mixed w ith pain,

’ ’ on d ri n the Tis p g on days gone by , Which ne ’ er can come again

’ When she, all lovely as she s still, I Blushed w hen called her fair,

And , if she never bade me hope ,

’ She ne er bade me de spair . D r R OF o ! CO UL LOSE TH E POWE TH O UGHT . 1 3

I l For thee, dear maid, fond y sighed , I For thee no w repine ,

Since Fate has s w orn , in solemn w ords , Thou never canst be mine !

l I t Yet fond y do love hee still ,

’ ’ Though hope ne er mingles there A w ilder passion s w ays me no w

’ Tis love joined to despair .

W Fare w ell a w orld , hose gayest scenes

No pleasure brings to me ’ ’ I I d hate it s smile , did not think

It may give joy to thee .

’ lov dst But , if thou ever like me ,

w l No joy il light thine eye,

i t Save transient gleams, l ke w in ry suns, k Short glancing in the s y . [ 1 4 ]

S H P R TENTING E E BY MU I AND GLEN .

T N ! Owe r th U E e M u ir a ma ng the H e a the r .

N N TE TI G sheep by muir and glen ,

’ m -I Is a y airt , ken nae ither,

’ Save courting o my bonnie Jean ,

Amang the fragrant blooming heather .

O the bonnie blooming heather,

O the bon ni e blooming heath er ;

Content is mair than kings can buy ,

’ ’ ' An yet ti s found amang the heather

’ the Her hair is like glints o go w d, The sun lets fa’ in simmer w eather

Her face w ould shame the s w eetest flo w er, r That bla w s amang the blooming heathe . TE NTI N G S H E E P B Y M U I R AN D GLE N .

— ’ Her glancing een , sic ne er w ere seen , They ’ ve clean be w itched me a ’ thegither

’ Au h aye say slee t ey blink on me,

’ Whene er w e meet amang the heather .

’ ’ I he r f rae sing o , rising sun ,

’ ’ e e n i n clu ds Till dra w the thegither , ’ I ’ An then dream the nicht a w a ,

w i ’ Till she, morn , come o w er the heather .

’ ’ warld s I ve neither go w d nor gear, S ave o w sen t w a, left by my father ;

’ An yon w ee cot, do w n by the burn,

i n That fl g s its reek out o w er the heather .

’ e an i e s But J love is mair than go w d , Her heart w orth kingdoms tied thegither

’ Gie — 0 me that heart , sae void art,

The heart I fand amang the heather .

O the bonnie blooming heather ,

O ! the bonnie bl ooming he ather ; ‘ 1 6 N N H P B Y A D TE TI G S E E M U I R N GLE N .

I s th n bu Content mair an ki gs can v,

’ ’ An ye t tis found amang the heather

R WRITE , WRITE , TOU IST

TRAVELLE R .

0 ' ’ bl h d i n B Za ckw od s Jl/l a a zi n e a n a r 1 828 P u is e o g , J u y , N octe s

m A br osi a n ae , N 0. ! ! ! V.

WRITE , w rite, tourist and traveller, Fill up your pages and w rite in good order

’ v e Write, w rite, scribb ler and dri ell r,

- h Why leave such margins come nearer t e border .

Many a laurel dead flutters around your head,

Many a tom e is your m e me n to mori

Come from your garrets,then , sons of the quill and pen ,

' - i n or Write f or snu ff sh ops, if You w r te ot f glory . W W O U I AN D L . 1 R ITE , R ITE , T R ST TRAVE LE R 7

’ the Come from your rooms w here farthing w ick s burning,

Come w ith your tales full of gladness or w oe ;

- Come from your small beer to vinegar turning, Come w here the Port and the Burgundy flo w

’ s i s so n di n Fame trump u , topics abounding, , g

’ Leave , then , each scribb ler, your high attic story

Critics shall many a day speak of your book, and say ,

ff - He w rote for the snu shop, he w rote not for glory

\Vri te t l , w ri e, tourist and travel er, Fill up your pages and w rite in good order

’ Write , w rite, scribb ler and driveller, \Vh — y leave such margins come nearer the border . [ 1 8 ]

THE HOUR IS COME , MY MARY DEAR .

S e t to a n or n a l me lo b F N D U N . ( ig i dy , y I LAY )

TH E hour is come, my Mary dear,

’ r That bids us part, an part in sor o w

’ A w aefu fare thee w ell is near,

’ n Wi ae blythe w ord to meet the morro w . Fare thee w ell

’ ’ There s love that time can ne er subdue, An ’ hearts that absence ne ’ er can alter l As mine sti l constant is, and true,

f au se l n Though y thus my to gue does faulter, Fare thee w ell ! ”

The simmer w inds around us bla w ,

’ wi n The broom, yello w flo w ers, is w avi g

2 0 A GAI N L ET U S W E L C OM E TH I S D AY .

’ th W Cale don i For then w as proclaimed o er y ilds, ,

The birth - day of genius—the birth - day of BUR N S d ’ The dee s of our fame sunk in time s rapid river,

Auld Scotia sat w ae, till his w ild harp w as strung W ’ That harp, hose s w eet tones, O they ll vibrate for ever The strains that breathe freedom w here ’ er they are

sung !

h i the rs Nae doubt, t ere w ere that shone bright before

him,

N The pastoral ALLA , w hose name is aye dear ;

ON And FE RGUS , O every heart w ill adore him ,

’ ’ And shed o e rhis memory sympathys tear

n i n And ames that w ill shine auld Scottish story,

’ ’ Bright stars that give lustre to Fame s gli tt ri n g sky

R N the But BU S, he arose, like sun in his glory ,

With splendour unrivalled, that never w ill die

h n on the But soon w as the w ild arp hu g w illo w ,

’ Soon closed w as the hand that k e the s w eet strain

l o And soon w as he laid on his lo w earthy pi l w , To charm and a w aken us never again AGA I N LE T U s WE L COM E TH I S DAY . 2 1

’ But still is he sung mong our glens and our mountains,

For echo hath w hispered his name to the air,

’ he s And still is heard by our s w eet gurg ling fountain ,

’ ! o o s he s the re And still , in our b s m , permanent

’ ' ’ the storm He came mid , O t w as a sad omen , \ Nae sim nqe r smiled s w eet w hen his birth - day w as nigh

’ ’ ri i d foam i n He came i the roar of the angry w aves , He came ’ mid the gloom of a bleak w int er sky

the And sad w as his fate, as w ild breeze around him ,

And loud w ere his w ails, as the stormy sea w ave

n At the da w ni g of life, misfortune it found him , And only departed w hen he reached the grave

h s But yet, though his life s o w ed a pro pect sae dreary ,

He w hiles bade defiance t o sorro w and care

the o And aften time slipped by unc cheery ,

i . When friendship , unfeigned , w as mingl ng there Then may the bright halo of friendship be ever

da s Around us , w hen this y aye w elcome return

h t o ss A day t a , in Sc tland , w ill pa a w ay never ,

Wi thout bei ng hailed as the birth - da y o f BUR N S [ 99 ]

’ TH E KING S VISIT .

A G S 1 822 . U U T ,

T U N E J ohn ie C op e .

’ N WI E DI A S to w n , meikle glee,

’ f u Ye no w may cock your crest hie,

Your King is coming o w er the sea,

To speer for you some morning .

Come do w n, ye clans, frae yont Braemar, Wi ’ La w land lads that ne ’ er feared w ar

Your fame has risen like the star

That shines bright in the morning .

’ It s no to use the dirk nor gun ,

’ ’ For a our v i e t ri e s y e ha e w on ’ TH E K I N G S V I S IT . 23

An ’ mony thanks for w hat ye ’ ve done

Mak haste and come that morning .

’ Come hame baith marquis, duke, an peer,

O w er seldom do w e see you here

’ Auld Re e ki e s in an unco steer

’ Ye ll surely come that morning .

t Come ilka s al w art yeoman too, We ne ’ er but fanud ye stanch an ’ true

We ca nna w eel do w anting you

’ ’ Ye ll mind an come that morning .

’ Ye cotters, come frae glen an brae ,

’ In bannets blue , an hodden gray 5

My fai th ! ye maunna bide a w ay

On sic a joyous morning .

’ Come a , ye bonnie lassies rare , Wi ’ glancing een an ’ flo w ing hair

’ ’ ( me There s that day w ill ca ye fair ,

Ye di n u a see ilk morning . ’ 24 TH E K I N G S V ISIT .

Waes me it ’ s lang an ’ me ny a day

’ ’ Sin H alyrood wi kings w as gay

’ O w ad he only mang us stay ,

When he comes do w n that morning .

We couldna busk him just sae bra w

’ ’ As they do in his Lon on ha ,

’ ’ But hearts an hands, aye at his ca ,

Would ready be ilk morning .

Come do w n, ye clans, frae yont Braemar,

’ ’ Wi t La w land lads hat ne er feared w ar , Your fame has risen like the star

That shines bright in the morning . THE FIRST ROSE OF S UMMER

" ‘ I m rose the first of summer that opes to my vie w , With its bright crimson bosom all bathed in the de w

It bo w s to its green leaves , w ith pride from its throne ,

'

the . Tis the queen of valley, and reigneth alone

0 ! ! w hy , lovely stranger, thus early in bloom Art thou here to assure us that summer is come !

a The primrose and harebell appe r w ith the spring,

But tidings of summer the young roses bring .

t Thou fair gift of na ure , I w elcome the boon

’ ’ Was t the lark of the morning that w oke thee so soon

’ fl ow re t sk Yet I w eep , thou s w eet ; for soon from the y

th . The lark shall repose , w here y leaves w ithered lie

’ ’ d a O if beauty could save thee , thou ne er w ould st ec y ,

' B u t s ! tlIou lt a , ala soon perish and w ither a w y ; 26 R O E OF TH E F I ST R S S U M M E R .

And thy kindred may blossom , and blossom as fair,

’ - Yet I ll mourn, lonely rose bud, w hen thou art not there .

’ A WA’ ' , YE CAULD LOVERS

’ TU NE La mp s 0

’ ’ AWA ! ! , ye cauld lovers w hat pleasure does t bring

’ Ye seek na to taste 0 the charms that ye sing

’ Gie me the s w eet lassie baith modest an free,

’ The lassie that s kind is the lassie for me

o W uld I hae a lassie, ho w ever sae fair,

P Wha, saving her beauty, could boast naething mair

’ the t t I ll tell ye, lass ha mine ain lass w ould be, The lassie that ’ s kind is the lassie for me

’ ’ ri n kli n W1 A sp o modest w it , seasoned sense,

’ I d quarrel nae meikle though She had the pence !

[ 98 ]

TH E BOATIE ’ S ROWING OWER THE

DEEP .

T E U N The boa tie r ows .

’ TH E ' boatie s ro w ing o w er the deep ,

’ ’ An hast n i n g to the shore

i t O guard frae ilk rocky steep , Or ocean ’ s angry roar !

t o The boa ie r w s, the boatie ro w s , The be atie ro w s ashore

’ t Lightsome be the sailor s hear ,

’ ’ When a hi s toils are o er .

' ’ shi li e s 0 t The p in the Roads Lei h ,

Rich laden frae the sea,

But Willie, coming in the boat,

I s mair than go w d to me ’ B O OW N W THE ATI E S R I G O E R TH E DE EP . 29

o t The boatie ro w s , the b a ie ro w s , The boatie ro w s ashore

’ Lightsome be the sailor s heart ,

’ ’ When a hi s t oils are o er .

’ When winds ble w an the tempest roared , Wi ’ sleety blasts and rain ,

’ I thought upon my Willie s ship ,

Far drifting o w er the main

o But the b atie ro w s, the boatie ro w s ,

The boatie ro w s ashore

’ Lightsome be the sailor s heart ,

’ ’ \Vhen a his toils are o e r .

’ ’ a n s An no w , though w inds w ave combine

t To gar the tempes roar,

n le t t I care a no w , hem rave on ,

’ Sin he is safe on shore .

s The boatie ro w s , the boatie ro w , The boatie rows ashore

’ the s o t Lightsome be ail r s hear .

’ ‘ ‘ « f VlK ll a his toils a re o r . AGAIN MY NATIVE COT APPEARS .

” T N lil on l o a n d e a r e 0 I U E y y j d i ,

N AGAI my native cot appears,

\' i n l Iy early haunts appear - vie w

Ho w mony days, ho w mony years

’ ou Hae fled, sin last I gazed on y

The bonnie w oods are w aving green ,

’ AIi flo w ers are blooming, just as fair

As if the simmer aye had been,

’ Sin last I took my f are w e e l there !

h ’ There stands the loc , as fresh an clear,

There blossoms still the ha w thorn tree, W But , ah here are the voices fled That ’ neath its Shade aye w elcomed me ! M Y N C O T AGAI N ATI VE APPEARS .

I The burnie rins as blythe alang

As it w as w ont in days bygane,

’ ’ ’ t An , hark here s still the blackbird s sang ,

’ ’ ’ li st n i n till t But, ah I m g my lane

’ n Ho w aft, i yonder planting s glade, I ’ ve pondered mony an hour an ’ day

’ ’ ’ on An aften , mang y braes, I ve strayed

’ ’

Wi h . playmates , appy, young , an gay

’ An , did I their glad faces see,

By sunny kno w e or lanely glen ,

( For ilka spot is dear to me I ’ d think my boyhood come again

’ ” Ho w teems this hour w i thoughts o thi n g s

o t Lang past, though cr w ding in o mind

' IVhat t s sad emo ion memory brings,

’ When nou ght save memory s left be hind

’ s s The bird , w hen immer flees a w a , A ’ sympathize in plaintive strain

' ’ But w ha marks here these tears that fa

’ For a fl e d s la n r e days l ng , an friend gan [ 3 2 1

TH E TRUMP OF WAR HATH CEASED

TO BLOW .

T U N E The White Cocka de .

TH E trump of w ar hath ceased to blo w ,

And Britain hath no more a f e e

i The s w ord is sheathed that Scot a dre w ,

That gleamed so red on Waterloo .

That morn , unclouded, rose the sun ,

Our army, too, in brightness shone 5

But night displayed another vie w ,

When all w as still on Waterloo .

t At morn hey rushed to meet the foe, But night beheld the w arriors lo w

’ At morn they marched o e r spangled de w ;

At n ight they bled on Waterloo . T H E R OF WAR T T U M P HATH CEASE D O B LO‘V . 33

’ v i ct r The shout of y rose on high, But closed in death the victors lie

tgke Yet the sun shall his last adieu , Ere the fame shall cease of Waterloo

’ The trumpe sounds, but ne er again tv Shall Scotia’ s w arriors hear the strain

u They sleep, but not on their mountains bl e,

’ The heroes bed is Waterloo

Britannia w eeps for many a son , And a w ail is heard in Caledon

For the gallant youths, so brave and true,

IVho W ! , fighting, fell on aterloo [ 34 ]

0 THE SWE ET SOUND IS FLED .

WR E N ON S S S E H N S LE V N G E N B GH I N 1 823 ( ITT MI T P E A I DI UR , A N D PU B L I S H ED I N T H E D RAMATI C REV I E W F OR JU L Y OF

T H AT YE AR .

lu B e B e lls of S cotla n d.

’ 0 the o e r the s w eet sound is fled, seraph song is ,

And thou , the s w eet melodist , art leaving our shore W But the music of thy song in our memory ill d w ell,

— N t When thou art far a w ay lovely STEPH E S, fare hee w ell

’ th h ’ O I ll ink I ear thee sing, w hen the loud storm s

asleep ,

’ And nought, save the soft w ind, murmurs o er the deep

W to Or, in some sequestered valley , here echo loves

d w ell,

AGAIN THE DAY .

(WRITTEN FOR T H E FIRS T AN N I V ERSARY OF THE LEIT H

’ B N S C B 25 T H N UR LU , JA UARY,

T ’ U N E Good n ig ht a n j oy .

Again the day, the happy day ,

To Scotia ever dear, returns, 0 ( it demands your noblest lay) ,

That gave to Caledonia B U RN S

’ A day that w e shall ne er forget, As lang as we hae breath to dra w For w e w ill drink the memory yet

’ ’

U R N . Of B S, the bard, that s no w a w a

’ His tales, ho w aften they ve been tauld ,

’ t n His sangs, ho w aften hey ll be su g AGAI N T H E D AY .

His sterling sense aye charms the auld,

’ Hi s playfu strains aye please the youn g .

’ ’ An , no confined to Scotia s tongue, l ’ But spread through ilka Eng ish ha ,

His fame, in Foreign lands, has rung

’ ’ ’ The fame o him that s no w a w a .

’ Oh w hat a great a n glorious band

’ H ae rai s ed the m se ls to heights 0 fame

’ 0 The patriots, guardians our land,

’ ’ The poet an the w arrior s name

To these , ilk Scotsman proudly turns

’ Wi W I fondest pride, deepest a w e

N But Nature only made one BUR S ,

’ The proudest name the w arld e er sa w .

’ An aye, w hen this glad time returns,

While years, insidious, steal a w ay ,

t R N To celebra e the birth of BU S,

Some social fe w shall meet this day .

Then raise the cup , w ith heartfelt joy,

' ’ Though haply in t a tear may fa , 38 A GAI N TH E DAY .

An ’ drink it to the memory

’ ’ RN t Of BU S, the bard, hat s no w a w a

FARE THEE WELLfi“

’ ” Wr tte n to the Ai r R o s e a r wa r t r l i y Wif , f te ds se t o a n o ig in a

m e lo b R . A. S M H . dy , y IT )

A l t F RE thee w e l, for I must leave hee,

r But , O let not our parting g ieve thee ;

Happier days may yet be mine, At least I w ish them thine—beli eve me

” I n a wo k e nt tle d the S i r t of B t sh S on these e se s r , i p i ri i g, v r

” w be ou n d w th the n am e of o e an a tta che to the m a s ill f , i M r l d d

the a u tho . Th s m stak e how e e the u bl she s e ad l ackn ow r i i , v r, p i r r i y e d e i n a v e han som e e tte of a olo wh ch I ha ve n ow i n l g d, ry d l r p gy , i m y possession . 39 FA R E TH E E IVE L L .

— - We part but, by those de w drops clear,

My love for thee w ill last forever 5 — I leave thee but thy image dear,

. Thy tender smiles, w ill leave me never

&c . Fare thee w ell, y

0 dry those pear ly tears that flo w One fare w ell smile before w e sever The only balm for parting w oe

— ’ ’ Is fondly hope tis not forever .

&c. Fare thee w ell,

Though dark and dreary lo w ers the night , Calm and serene may be the morro w

’ n The cup of pleasure e er shone bright , Without some mingling drops of sorro w

t Fare hee w ell , for I must leave thee ,

B u t , O let not our parting grieve thee

Happier days may yet be mine, At least I w ish them thine—believe me ! [ 40 ]

’ IN TH E DAYS 0 LANGSYNE .

T U N E The B oys of Ki lke n ny .

’ I N 0 the days langsyne, w hen w e carles w ere young, An ’ nae Foreign fashions amang us had sprung

’ our When w e made ain bannocks, an bre w ed our ain

yill,

’ An w ere . clad frae the sheep that gaed w hite on the hill

’ O the thocht o thpdays gars my auld heart ay e fill !

’ 0 In the days langsyne, w e w ere happy and free, ’ ! , Proud lords on the land an kings on the Saea

To our foes w e w ere fierce, to our friends w e w ere kind, ’ di d An , w here battle raged loudest, you ever find The banner of Scotland float high in the w ind ’ I N TH E DAYS 0 LA N GSY N E . 4 1

’ ’ 0 In the days langsyne, w e aye ranted an sang

the W By w arm ingle side, or the ild braes amang ;

’ Our lads busked bra w , an our lasses looked fine,

" An the sun on our mountain s seemed ever to shine

’ O w har is the Scotland 0 bonnie langsyne

I

’ 0 l In the days langsyne, i ka glen had its tale, S w eet voices w ere heard in ilk breath o ’ the gale

’ ’ 0 An ilka w ee burn had a sang its ain , As it trotted alang through the valley or plain

’ ’ Shall w e e er hear the music 0 streamlets again !

’ ’ 0 In the days langsyne, there w as feasting an glee,

’ ’ i ilk e e W pride in ilk heart, and joy in

’ ’ An the auld, mang the nappy, their eild seemed to tine ,

n ’ ’ It w as your stoup the icht , an the morn t w as mine

’ — ’ 0 the days 0 langsyne O the days 0 langsyne [ 42 ]

O ! BID THAT SUN NOT S HINE SO

BRIGHT .

'

T N n i h r . U E o, we n e v e r me n t on e

0 ! t ht bid tha sun not shine so brig , In yonder summer sky

’ lan ci n be am s His g g , on w oods and streams,

Mind me of days gone by .

Give me the gloom of forest drear,

Or rock, by stormy shore ,

Why does he shine, since Madaline No w smiles on me no more !

t I thought tha love w as ever kind,

That truth w as ever true,

[ 44 3

YOUNG WILLIE, THE PLOUGHMAN .

T U N E B on n ie D u n de e .

O N l the h r Y U G Wil ie, ploug man, has nae land nor sille ,

’ ’ An yet the blythe callant s as crouse as a king ; ’ l He courts his ain lass, an he sings a sang ti l her,

’ ’ Tak tent an ye se hear w hat the laddi e does s ing

’ O Jenny, to tell that I loe you fore ony, Wad need finer w ords than I ’ ve gatten to tell ’ W Nor need I say to ye, Ye re insome and bonnie,

’ ’ ’ ’ I m thi n ki n ye ken that f u bra w ly yoursel

I ’ ve courted you lang—do ye hear w hat I ’ m telli ng

’ ’ thi n ki n I ve courted you , ye yet w ad be mine

’ wi a e li And , if w e suld marry only shil ng,

’ a e s hilli n At the w arst, only g , Jenny, w e se tine .

’ doe sn a But love aye lie in go w pens o guineas,

’ Nor happiness dwall w har the coffers are f u O N W O N . 45 Y U G I LL I E , TH E PL UGH M A

w’ As muckle e ll surely aye gather at w een us,

’ ’

m i s r . That w ant ne er sal meet us , nor y pursue

’ The chiels that are christened to riches an grandeur, Ken nought o’ the pleasure that hard labour brings

What in idleness comes, they in idleness squander,

' ’ While the lab ri n g man toils a the lang day and sings

’ Then w hy suld w e envy the great an the noble ,

— ’ The thocht is a kingdom it s ours What w e hae

’ A u s a n boast that repays for sair w ark trouble,

’ I ve earned it is mair than a mon arch can say .

The green buds no w peep through the auld runkled

timmer,

The sun , at a breath , drinks the hale morning de w ,

’ ’ ’ An nature is glad at the comin o simmer,

’ ’ As glad as I m aye at the smiling 0 you !

’ ’ The flo w ers are a springing, the birds are a singing ,

’ ’ ’ An beauty an pleasure are wooi n the plain

Then let us employ it , w hile w e may enjoy it ,

’ 0 a The simmer life , Jenny , comes na gain THE MARINE R TO HIS BARK.

b O my ark , dost thou long to be free,

’ That thou chaf st thus thy keel on the sand !

Then , a w ay for I love to career it w ith thee,

the . Far a w ay, far a w ay , from land h We shall traverse w ere nought meets the eye,

Save the green w ave , or high flashing spray

’ e r - Wh e no sound , save the w ild w heeling sea bird s

cry ,

Screaming w elcome to us on our w ay .

the ht Let us haste, for lig breeze is near

’ That shall w aft us o er yon summer sea

B sun b t y the , righ and clear , our w ild course

steer,

And the stars our night compass shall be . TH E M AR INE R To H I s B AR K . 4 ,

] ’ Then , a w ay my s w ift bark , o er the deep,

’ Bound along o er the vast rolling main

s the t Like an eagle acros broad w ave hou w ilt s w eep,

And return to thine eyry again .

h Many tempests ave braved been by thee,

Where no have n of shelter w as nigh

ro v Thou hast plunged thy bold p y in each w ave of the sea ,

th h k Spread y w ite flag beneath every S y .

I s there bliss to be found in this w orld P

fi n d O that bliss I can tell w here to ,

t On thy deck , my tight bark w i h thy sails all unfurled , And thou shooting a w ay fore the w ind

- O I dreamed, in my night troubled sleep ,

’ ’ That our loved ocean w an d ri n g s w ere o er

the Unheeded , I sunk in dark stormy deep ,

And thou lay a frail w reck on the shore

y But a w a w ith such visions as these , When thy true helm I thus grasp again

Thou t the s s art leaving behind thee thy rack on ea ,

And our home i s the far di stant main [ 48 ]

’ M OF BES SY BELL AN ARY GRAY .

’ ” T N M love she s bu t a la ss e e t. U E y , i y

’ OF Bessy Bell an Mary Gray

! Wha hasna heard, w ha hasna sung

— ’ T w a bonnie but i t s mony a day

’ ’

o . Sin they w ere bl oming, fair, an young

Ae lass, gude sooth , is plenty O,

’ For ony douce an sober man 5

’ ’ Yet, though I m baith, I ve gatten t w a,

’ My Maggie a n my Mary Ann .

0 Maggie is a bonnie lass,

’ As e er gaed bare fit through a glen

’ I d toast her in anither glass ,

Though I before had tiple d ten ’ OF B ESSY B E L L AN M ARY GRAY . 49

' ’ E en , after that, I d aiblins bre w , Di d m strength per it , anither can ,

’ — — — no An drink to Maggie to you ,

’ - My bonnie blue c cd Mary An n .

’ I think on Maggie a the day,

’ ’ I dream 0 Mary a the night

’ ’ Maggie s the sun s bright shining ray ,

’ Mary the moon s pale modest light . wi ’ Ho w happy could I be baith ,

Or either, as the auld sang sings

’ as But, it is, I ll tak my aith ,

Nor day nor night me gladness brings .

q

My Maggie is the blushing rose, That in the valley blooms sae fair

Mary the primrose w ild, that gro w s

' the t e . Mang s w eetest flo w ers, s w eetest her

’ I d (le e My Maggie fair, for you ,

’ ou se e My face , y , is pale an w an

to z we e But I mann live , ga e a

' On bonnie blue-c e d Mary Ann

D [ 50 ]

’ ’

L . BLYTHE , BLYTHE , WE L A BE MERRY .

“ T N — A n r a d i U E d a n h s ca tty g un .

w ’ ’ Blythe, blythe , e ll a be merry ,

Let social harmon y prevail e Wha w ad car for port or sherry, Whan they ’ ve Scotia ’ s nappy ale

I T c cheers the heart frae gloomy are, It gies ne w vigour to the mind

It stilleth strife to rise nae mair,

’ ’ An friendship s social link does bind .

&c . Blythe, blythe,

’ ’ 0 In days yore, ho w aft w e ve seen A bicker rouse a sang or tale

D U MFE RLIN E TOUN.

T ’ U N E The bon n ie st [a ss i n a the Ma rk) .

0 D U MFE R LI N E u n , to n is a bon ie bonnie toun , An ’ w ha says that it isna bonnie P

’ 0 For gin w e had again bra w kings our ain ,

It w ould lift up its head yet W1 on y.

D um fe rli n e u O, toun is a bonnie bonnie to n,

' ’ ’ ’ An it tells o auld Scotland s grandeur

For w ithin it, langsyne, kings drank the bluid red

” w ine, While their queens ’ mang its bonnie braes did w an

de r .

’ D umfe rli ne n O, toun, an my ain ative toun,

Will ony ane daur to deride thee D UM FE R LI N E TO UN . 53

e Thou plac of ancient name, w hich kings aye made their m ha e,

’ ’ And n ow they re a sleeping beside thee !

’ ’ AL OL wi MAB G B E T s Brave M C M the sceptre, , did w ay

a In yonder pal ce, auld no w and hoary

’ ’ An R C his there B U E did ponder o w er country s w ae,

’ H ow h he d ac ieve her freedom , fame, and glory

D umfe rli n e O , toun , thou bonnie bonnie toun, Wi ’ thy green w oods thy valleys lining

’ An the sun shines sae gay on ilka turret gray,

As if for thee alane he w as shining .

D u fe rline O , m toun , thou art still a bonnie toun , An ’ thy braes are as bonnie as ever

’ ’ But the go w an s pu d nae mair by the princely bai rni e s

fair, h ’ And our gallant chiefs ac left thee a thegither .

’ D um fe rli n e croun O , toun, thou hast tint thy king an ,

’ An thy queens nae langer w ould tarry

' be But there s still a lovely queen , near thy palace to seen , An ’ I ca ’ her my bonnie queen Mary 54 D U MEE B L I N E TOUN .

’ ’ D umfe rli n e O , toun , an my Marv s toun ,

s Though the fates hae caused u to sever,

’ ’ a e Let days be as I ve seen, an let Mary y be queen ,

’ ’ IAn ‘ I ll be her subject forever

’ O GIN I HAD A KEEKIN GLASS .

T U N E .. Loch E r roch s ide .

’ GI N ke e ki n O I had a glass,

’ I the n might se e my bonnie lass

’ O gin I had a ke e ki n glass

‘ ’ To keek at my love s w indo w .

s Her bonnie face I daurna py ,

f For co w art love has made me shy ,

I canna look as I gae by ,

‘ Nor b link u p to her w indo w . ’ o GI N I H AD A K E E K I N GLAss . 55

on l sac Had she been v half fair ,

’ z wi dl Ane might hae ga ed hee ess air, — But as glance I could tholc nae mair

Clean killed me at her w indo w .

B u t yet the sicht I w adna shun

’ ’ For a that e er w as looked upon

Nae Indian worshipe th the sun

’ As I d do at her w indo w .

H e r neck , sae fair, the lily dings,

’ An round it mony a jet lock hings ;

Her face w ad dra w a sigh frae kings,

' Gif the y gae d by her w indo w .

’ O gin I had a ke e ki n glass To see my bonnie charming lass

’ O gi n I had a ke e ki n glass

’ To k k cc at m y love s w indo w . LE T GALLED G REECE .

‘ WR N OR B U R N s ANN V S 25 T H N ( ITTE F I ER ARY, JA UARY,

’ ” TU NE Whis tle owe r the la ve o t.

’ LE T galled Greece an fettered Spain ,

' An ither lands enslaved , complain

— ’ Gie us that spat for it s our aim

’ The v ca it Caledonia .

’ Our fathers bluid bought a s that land Whilk nane shall e ’ er w rench from our

For BUR NS bade ilka S cotsman stand

’ ’ Or fa wi Caledonia .

H ail to the day that gave him birth

Be it aye marked for social mirth L E T GA LLE D G R E E CE .

’ Let latest ages 0 the earth

' Aye hail t i n Caledonia

Hail to the land from w hence he sprun g The land that ’ s named in ilka tongue

’ R C has R Where B U E fought an BU NS has sung ,

’ Th e land 0 Caledonia .

! S man Waes me puir cotia, y a day

’ douf Thy face w as do w ie , , an w ae Fe w o ‘ thy bardies tuned a lay

’ In praise o Caledon ia .

— Thy w arriors fought but w ha could tell Ho w beauty w ept w hen lovers fell !

’ B U R Ns the Till a w oke harp s w ild s w ell , An ’ sang o ’ Caledonia

His sangs an ’ tales breathed Nature ’ s

’ ’ B out blythsom c lads an lasses fair

' ’ An nappy , famed for killin care ,

When bre w ed in Caledoni a . L E T GALLE D GR E ECE . — He sang for w eel the minstrel kne w

’ Ilk valley green an mountain blue, e Whar flo w ers before unheeded gr w ,

’ A dear to Caledonia .

But, ah ho w quickly ceased the strain , Begun in care and closed in pain

e — It paus d then faintly thrilled again , An ’ w hispered Caledonia !

" ‘ ’ I wa s he that raised our country s name, We o w e to him our highest fame ’ wi ’ For , w hen w e re mentioned acclaim ,

’ ’ Tis BU RNS an Caledonia

60 M Y LOVE I s No FOR GOWD .

’ ’ trav lle rs I ve speered at , w ha hae been

’ ’ Frae John o Groat s House to Japan , But fairer maid they ne ’ er hae seen

’ Than bonnie blue e e e d Mary Ann

I ’ BY ROSL N S ANCIENT TOWE RS .

T N S e a xe w h l U E a fl n e re e r r i n g e ts .

' Rosli n s B Y ancient to w ers,

se a Where Esk steals slo w ly to the ,

' ae m T w as there, morn in si mer,

My bonnie lassie fled frae me . — N ae smile then beguiled then wi ’ A heart o w er aften filled care ,

’ But , eerie an w eary ,

I sighed for her I sa w nae mai r ’ B Y ROS LI N S ANC I E NT T OWE R S . (i l

’ ’ ’ SOU ht he r n An g , ma g the w oods an glens,

Where bonnie w ild flo w ers blooming sprang, An ’ w andered by the tina ' burns

' That echoed ilka birdie s sang .

I speered for ane w hase beauty

Nane could forget that ever sa w ,

‘ A form that had nae equal

’ In lo w ly cot or lordly ha . A pleasure—past measure

o d Within her presence aye w as f un , Sae cheering—endearing

Was ilka smile she coost around .

I said her een w ere saftly blue ,

Than je w els rare they brighter shone, f But nane had seen a face sae air,

Though it seemed made for ga zing on .

At length , in yonder valley ,

To find her out I gat a Sign ,

’ i v d For, round her y w indo w ,

s o s oo a r Birds ang mair s w eet , fl w er bl med m i ’ B Y R 62 OS LI N S AN C I E N T TOWE RS . — There, peering careering , ’ e The lav rock w ak d the blushing day, — Inviting delighting ,

’ ’ The blackbird sang his e e n in lay

’ ’ T w as there, in beauty s guise, I found The lass for w hom a ’ else I ’ d tine

’ An a W ! no w , on e rth , hat seek I mair

’ ’ I ve found this bonnie lass O m ine

’ JANET AN ME .

’ ’ TU N E I d r a the r here a p ie ce tha n a kiss 0 my

’ 0 WH A m e P , are sae happy as an my Janet

’ Wha are O, sae happy as Janet an me

’ ’ We re baith turning auld, an our w alth is sune tauld,

’ But contentment ye ll find in our cottage sae w ee .

’ ’ s W wi the She pins the lang day hen I m out o w sen ,

’ She croons i the house w hile I si n g a t the plough ’ JAN ET AN M E . 63

w alcom e s And aye her blythe smile me frae my toil ,

u As p the lang glen I come w earied , I tro w

’ ’ the She cle adi n When I m at Beuk is mending the ,

’ ’ She s darn i n the stockings w hen I sole the shoon

’ s —we Our crack keep us cheery w ork till w e re w eary ,

' ’ An syne we sup so w ans w hen ance We are done . ’

’ ’ ’ ’ sm oki n She s bakin a scon w hile I m my cutty ,

’ ’ ’ ’ When I m i the stable she s m ilki n the kye ;

’ n ot loami n I envy kings , w hen the g time brings The canty fireside to my Janet an ’ I

’ ’ bo w A on our auld heads e ve a decent clay biggin , That keeps out the cauld w hen the Simmer ’ s a w a

' ' ’ ’ ’ o S i n n i n We ve t w a w abs linen o Janet s ain p ,

’ as do - an As thick g lugs, as w hite as the sna w

’ ’ ’ \~V e ve a kebbuck or t w a , an some meal i the girnel ,

Yon so w is our ain th a t plays grumph at the door 5

’ ’ ’ s me thi n s a An o g , I ve guessed , in yon uld painted

kist ,

’ a t s u to That J ne , fell bodie, laid p the fo re ! ’ (54 JAN ET AN M E .

si n Nae doubt , w e have haen our sorro w s and troubles,

’ ’ ’ f u 0 Aften times pouches toom , an hearts care 5 Wi ’ ’ But still, our crosses, our sorro w s an losses,

thanki t n Contentment, be , has aye bee our share

’ f e I ve an auld roosty S w ord, that w as left by my ath r,

’ Whilk ne er shall be dra w n till our king has a the

’ We hae friends ane or t w a, that aft gie us a ca ,

’ ’

W . To laugh w hen e re happy , or grieve w hen w e re w ae

The laird may hae go w d mair than schoolmen can reckon,

’ ’ ’ An fl un ki e s to watch ilka glance 0 his s e

’ Si t His lady, aye bra w , may in her ha , But are they mair happy than Janet an ’ me !

’ ’ ’ Wha A ye, ne er ken t the straught road to be happy,

’ are wi the Wha na content lot that ye dree,

’ ’ ’ dwalli n W n Come do w n to the of hilk I ve bee tellin ,

’ ’ ’ ’ i an Ye se learn t, by look n at Janet me TH E S U N BEHIND YON MOUNTAIN .

“ —a. TU N E The r os e tr e e .

TH E on sun , behind y mountain,

s Is etting lovely, bright , and fair,

the While I , moments counting,

’ Wi s and Am filled angui h , grief, care

- For, ere he beams to morro w ,

’ ’ w i sk An streaks go w d yon y sae blue,

' t t o o I ll hear ha w rd of s rro w ,

That f a re we e l parting w ord - adie u 1

W' Had illie w ooed less kindly ,

’ ’ ’ Wi n a e sic truth an wi tchi n po w er

’ s Had I but lo ed les fondly ,

I might have hom e the par ting hour

F. “ 66 TH E SUN B EH I N D Y ON M O U NTAI N .

On bygane joys I ponder, While future w oes appear in vie w ’ TWill break my heart asunder To hear that parting w ord—adieu

The ship is no w in motion That w afts my lover o w er the sea And soon the s w elling ocean Shall roll bet w een my love an ’ me

N0 that the w aves can sever

’ His love an mine, sae tender, true

’ B u t w hat if tis forever I hear that parting w ord—adieu

’

68 B O W OO To B R . TH E ETS , H AT F LS TH EY RE AVE US

’ OW N , w hat signifies a this clatter

By chiels that the truth Winna tell !

’ Wad it no he se ttlin the matter

’ - To say Lass, ye re just like yoursel

’ ’ h t to An t en here s nae end the evil,

the For they are no deaf to din ,

de e v i l That , like me, ony puir luckless

Daur scarce look the gate they are in

’ ’ B u t e Wi scorn I n , e en let th m be their

' h h n T ere s a lassie w ase ame I could tell ,

’ the m orn i n Her smile is as s w eet as ,

’

I . But, w hisht I am ravin mysel

’ ’ ’ h t S con vi cki t But he t a o ravin ,

he th When a bonnie s w eet lass inks on , May he ne ’ er get anither strait jacket Than that buckled to by Mess John

’ ’ t o An he w ha, though cau i us an canny ,

’ The charms o the fair never sa w ,

’ u O O ON Tho gh w ise as king S L M S grannie ,

’ i s s of I s w ear the dafte t a . [ 69 ]

0 M Y I S . , NIGHT COM E

0 t the t , M Y love, nigh IS come, sof night is come ,

And fled i s the glory and splendour of day

h i on e The brig t flam ng sun, w ith the daylight , hath g

O his . T palace of ocean , love , far far a w ay

0 t o , nigh , my l ve, night to a lover is dear,

' When the w ind i s all hushed and the moon i n the

s ky

s to Then , ha te thy lattice , love , quickly appear

\Vi th the smile OII thv cheek and the glance in thine

e ve .

o a i s o of O , my l ve , ever g y the clear no n day ,

’ \Vi th the bird s happy s ong and the bloom Of the rose

B u t a t s a n d , night , ro es w eep , the little birds sleep

o All s till a s the green leave s on w hich they rep s e . 0 0 LO N I S O . 7 , M Y VE , I GHT C M E

m ’ Yet night , y love, night O tis dearer to me ,

Though the flo w ers are in tears, that the sun does not shine

’ fl ow re t For thou art the I ever w ould see , And the music I ’ d hear is that swee t voice of thine

DAYS OF SORROW , NIGHTS OF

MOURNING .

T N ’ U E R oy s Wif e .

Days of sorro w , nights of mourning, Dreams of joy that ’ s ne’ er returning

I try to w eep, but canna w eep, Can tears flo w w hen the heart is burning P

’ ’ M Y Willie s love w as kind an true,

' Nor did he lo e a faithless hI ary D AY S OF s o n no w N OF O U N N . 1 , I GHTS M R I G 7

fl e w But, w aes my heart the loved hours ,

’ 0 o Sic hours love, they c uldna tarry

so o 81 0. Days of rr w ,

’ s o He aid he d bring a g w den ring,

’ An silks frae India to his deary ;

’ ’ AII he d be blest aboon a king,

When ance I w as his ain dear Mary .

& c . Days of sorro w ,

’ for I w aited lang Willie s ring, I w aited langer for my lover What w ould I no w wi ’ silks or ring ! Nae silks a breaking heart should cover

& c . Days of sorro w ,

’ h In vain I seek Edina s s ore,

And fondly gaze the braid sea over

Ye w aves w hen w ill ye cease to roar,

’ An gie me back my ain true lover 5‘

o & e . Days of s rro w , R . O , JENNY , LET T HIS STRIFE BE OWE

T — U N E s Wi tti e wa s a wa n ton way .

0 N N , JE Y , let this strife be o w er,

’ ' An let this w e ary W ark be done Ye ken I ’ m subject to your po w er As ocean is to yonder moon

’ ’

I ve , ca d ye aften fair and bra w , The s w eetest lass by hill or plain ’ — b No w , I ve a reason may e t w a

‘ ’ To tell it owe r an o w er again .

Ye say ye hae nae heart to gie,

Ye sav ye hae nae love to spare

’ 0 0 , then , accept some frae me,

’ ’ I m sure I ve gat an unco share ! o J N N T S T R I P E B E OW . 3 , E Y , LET H I S E R 7

’ ’ 0 T w ill maybe free my mind care,

’ ’ Twill maybe ea se m y heart 0 pain

’ o e the r e An if, like me, it w und v ,

’ ca n m e t Ye just gie back again .

’ WI I ll w oo ye a lovers flame,

’ ’ I ll roose v e in a bardie s sang 5

’ ’ Ye ll be my muse , an , at your name ,

’ The todli n w ords w ill jump alang .

’ ’ ’ bloom i n I ll Sing ye , young , an kind ,

’ ’ ’ Wi langhin een o clearest blue ,

’ ’ 0 But naething your heart an mind,

’ ’ Else a the warld w ere courtin you

W o ds I inna mind y ur w or ava ,

Frae your s w eet mouth alth ough they com e ’ —N The tongue s aye ready saying a ,

’ Though a the time the heart be dumb

’ re dd n i n But I w ill mark your g cheek ,

’ ’ ' An w c c I ill w atch your glaucin ,

’ For l o ve s true langua g e the s e ave speak

0 ! le t the e a f o r m e Jenny , m sp k DRINK IT YET .

T N E d U B i e y e y e t.

Drink it yet , drink it yet , We ’ re no just sae fou but w e ’ll drink it yet

h h W te ll To the name that is dear, t oug w e inna here , ’ fl' a thi n k . We ll tout a bumper, and it yet

’ ’ I T S W1 never o w er late w hen sittin you ,

The w arst that can happen is only get fou

’ thOIi h t But, g w e get fou , w e ll never forge — Our friend and our lassie sac drink it yet . i t e t & c . Drink y ,

’ h i n h i s out They say , w en drink s t at w it it ,

But he that s a y s sae is a knave and a lout

[ 76 ]

AGAI N LET’ S H A IL THE CH EERING

! S PRIN G .

’ A GAI N let s hail the cheering spring

’ ’ That no w returns, an a that

. The little birds n ow gladly sing

’ Their artless notes for a that .

’ ’ ’ For a that an a that , Bleak w inter ’ s fled an ’ a ’ that

the Nae mair w e see leafless tree,

’ For verdure blooms o w er a that .

’ The s n a wy glen an gloomy fen

’ ’ t That dreary seemed, an a hat ,

— . m fi r a tt m t a t rh m e . \Vr i tte.n i n Sp ri n g N I B y st e p y ’ A GA I LE T S H A I L R N N TH E CH E E I G SPR I N G .

’ Hae no w become the shepherd s home ,

’ Wha envies nane for a that .

’ ’ ’ Fo r th t a at an a tha ,

’ Real grandeur w e may ca that

’ ’ s n i le Content does mile , an fraud an g

’ ’ Ne er enters there for a that .

i ts rass The primrose, frae g v bed

’ ’ Adorns the banks an a that ;

The daisy lifts i ts crimson head

’ Amang the braes for a that .

’ ’ ’ For t t a hat an a tha , For Nature ’ s hand maks bra w that

’ t t r w w ill t v ie Art s ill may y, but hen

’ ’ ’ Wi Nature s sel i n a that !

n ow The farmer gars speed the ple w ,

’ ’ An seed f u thrang does sa w that

’ a s He dreads nae harms nor w r s alarm ,

’ For h peace smiles s w eet o w er a t a t .

’ ’ ’ Fo r t a n t t a tha a ha ,

’ ’ La n g n la v t abide fo r a tha t ’ 78 AGAI N LET S HA I L T H E CH E ER I N G SPR I N G .

’ s re ar a The s w ord an p no w grund upte r,

As men of old foresa w that

Lang may auld Scotland aye retain Her ancient w orth an ’ a ’ that

‘ t Ilk knavish plo may she disdain ,

’ ’ An slavery keep a w a that .

’ t ’ ’ th t For a tha an a a ,

’ Her r ig lcts there s nane shall thra w that

’ ’ ’ Ma y peace an w ealth , an joy an health , Reign o w er her plains for a ’ that I COURTED MAGGIE MONY A DAY .

TU ’ b N E J ohn ie s g r ay r e e ks .

I O R C U TED Maggie mony a day ,

’ To tell ho w lang, I d w eary , O But ne ’ er a w ord w ad Maggie say

S he 0 . w adna be my dearie ,

B ut he r o , O smile, her b nnie smile ,

’ o h i t Th ug she d nae speak , spak again ;

h s a - T ough she w ad y Gae , bide a w ay

I t bade me a ve come back again !

I pat a saxpence in my pouch

’ m ak o s h To me cr u e an c eery , 0 I O ON Y 8 C U RTED M AGG I E M Y A D A .

But Maggie’ s heart nae w ords could touch

0 . She w adna be my deary, ! 0 Se e . But , her smile ,

- to m h I pat the yill cap y ead, An ’ took anither smack again

’ ’ u o I O ! ! Mag , ye se be my dead

’ ’ she Yes, quo , an ye come back again

! 1 B u t 0 8 0. , her smile,

She laid a kebbuck on the board,

But fi e n t a knife my Maggie brang

’ ’ W i scorn fu She then , jeering w ord ,

’ Bade me si t in an ou t a w hang !

1 B u t O 8 0. , her smile ,

o She tried to gl om , but couldna gloom , I syne gre w bauld an ’ spak again

’ u o — t o th ! she Gae w his le on y ur oum ,

B u t ! com e n a a n , gudesake back ag i

B u t 0 ! he r & c . , smile, I CO U RTE D M AGG I E M ON Y A D AY . 8 1

’ ’ But tau n ti n w ord and w oman s wile Suld never mak a lover shy

’ ’ I ve gained my Maggie s bonnie smile ,

’ ’ I ve gained my Maggie s heart forbye

0 For, her smile , her bonnie smile,

’ s Though she d nae peak , it spak again h — T ough she w ad say Gae, bide a w ay

It bade me ave com e back again !

’ COME A , YE JOVIAL TO PE RS .

‘ ” T N E Th bla z U e tl cr i e o l.

’ O C M E a , ye jovial topers , That drink the rosy w ine

’ ’ e u a fi t An y , w ha q Glenlive ,

’ Attend thi s sang o mine . ’

82 O JO O R . C M E A , YE VI AL T PE S

I ’ ll tell ye o ’ a pleasure

That some folk daurna name,

’ Tis to meet w i ’ t w a three social frie nds

At our ain house at hame .

0 our —O , ain house at hame , our ain house at hame,

’ ’ A charm s round the ingle 0 our ai n house at hame .

- w i s When the toddy bo l filling,

O , a pleasant sight to see

’ An the bonnie w ee bit bai rn i e s

’ H r f au lde d up their e e O ’ there s a joy sae dear,

’ To w hich a joys are tame, The s w eetest blinks are those that shine

On our ain house at hame .

0 81 0. , our ain house,

’ ’ ' 0 E di n bro It s no the ale ,

’ br own Nor yet the Lon on ,

’ Nor is t beside the brandy punch ,

’ In taverns o the to w n

’

84 O JO O . C M E A , YE V I AL T PE RS

’ But can sport his jug o t oddy

At hi s ain house at hame .

h — O His ain house at ame , his ain house at hame,

Has a friend for ilka tumbler a t his ain house at hame .

ONE STAR OF THE MORNING .

O N E star of the morning still lingers

Amid the deep blue of the sky ,

O it w aits for the sun and my Julia,

To light up the green earth w ith joy .

’ Then haste, love, the fair lilly s w eeping,

The young rose is droopi n g in de w

The lark , in its s w eet dream , is sleeping, Till w akened by Nature and you

’ There s joy w hen the soft morning blushes, l And sunbeams on bright stream ets play , O N E STAR or TH E M O R N I N G . 85

Whe n the deep glen and dark misty mountai n

Rejoice at the coming of day !

the But not gay gladness of nature ,

When summer and morning are young ,

C a n equal that rapture of bosom ,

When you are the theme of my song .

Y ou bright star of m om is departing 7

To skies of a lovelier hue ,

To sparkle on lands that are fairer , But on maid never fairer than you

i n The golden sun no w w alks glory ,

And gladdens w ith smiles flo w er and tre e

Like you w ho , in joy or in sorro w ,

Still gladdens this bleak w orld to me [ 86 ]

A CANTY SANG .

’ T N The La r k n U E i d o Coc p e .

n A canty sa g, O , a canty sang, Will naebody gie us a canty sang ! There ’ s naething keeps nights frae turning o w er

i i . L ke a canty sang , l ke a canty sang

’ I F folk w ad but sing w hen they re gaun to flyte,

’ ’ Less envy ye d see, less anger an spite

What saf te n s doun strife and maks love mair strang

t ! Like a can y sang, like a canty sang

‘

& c . A canty sang,

If lads w ad but sing w hen they gang to w oo,

. They ’ d come na aye hame wi ’ thoum i ’ their mou ’ A CAN TY SA N G . 87

’ ’ w i f u The chiel that, lasses, w ad be thrang,

Suld learn to lilt to them a canty sang .

t &c . A can y sang,

When fools become quarrelsome o w er their ale,

’ r W I se gie ye a cu e hilk never w ill fail, When their tongues get short an ’ their arms get Aye dro w n the din wi ’ a canty sang ! V

& c . A canty sang,

’ I do w na bide strife, though fond o a spree, Your sair w ordy bodies are no for me

A w ee dribble punch, gif it just be strang ,

’ ’ a Is a my delight , an a c nty sang

A canty sang, O , a canty sang, Will naebod y gie us a canty sang ! There ’ s naething keeps nights frae turning o w er lang

t s . Like a can y ang , like a canty sang [ 88 ]

A WAKE , MY HARP, TH Y SAFTEST LAY .

T —f ‘ ’ N F a e r u b he r owe r wi str ae . U E y , g

W A AKE , my harp, thy saftest lay,

’ 0 l a And, let ove be a the str in, While o w er thy strings I deftly play Till echo bring the notes again

’ ’ An sing ho w Peggie s blooming, fair,

’ ’ An tell ho w Peggie s loving, kind

’ The s w eetest form an simplest air,

’ The w armest heart an noblest mind .

’ Her een w ad strike a bodie blin ,

’ - e But, neath their darts, young love b ams play

i n Like streaks of morn , that usher

’ The splendours o the coming day . W . 89 A AK E , M Y HARP, TH Y SAFTEST LAY

s Her w aving ringlet glossy hing, Her neck is pure as sna w ne w driven

Her eyebro w s nane daur ever sing,

’ They seem the pencil - w ark o heaven

When Peggie w alks at morning ray , The w ee birds round her beauty thrang

And, w hen she smiles, the infant day '

’ Awak e s a Nature into sang .

’ ’ he re e r W she strays there I ll be found ,

For I w ill follo w in her train , Until the happy time come round

’ ’ That lovely Peggie s a mv ai n 2 [ 90 ]

PIT Y THE LADS THAT ARE FREE .

’ T N h U E I ate a wif e 0 my a im.

PI TY the lads that are free, Pity the chiels that are single

t k For gude sake a pity on me,

’ ’ ’ I m teased night an day Wi Jean Pringle .

For lasses I carena a preen ,

’ ’ ’ My heart s my ain an I m cheery,

’ ’ w e re t An , nae for that cutty Jean , I ’ d sleep as soun ’ as a peerie

What ’ s beauty —i t a ’ lies in taste

’ For nane o t w ad I gie a bodle

’ hau n ti n But hers, me like a ghaist , Is w hiles like to turn my noddle

92 PI TY TH E LADS THAT ARE F R EE .

Last ouk I gaed in to the fair, l To w air out my Ha lo w mas guinea, ’ wi ’ When , w ha suld I fa in there,

’ — A di n ki t out fi n e ly but Jeanie

I couldna gang by her for shame,

I couldna but speak , else be saucy ,

Sae. I had to oxter her hame ,

’ An buy a silk snood to the lassie .

’ ’ ’ It s no but she s baith gude an fair, It ’ s no but she ’ s Winsome an ’ bonnie ’ h Her een, glancing neath go w den air,

dau rsa . Are brighter, I y , than ony

’ B ut awki e p cen s naething to me,

’ Of go w d locks I w ant nae the straiki n Folk speak about love—but they ’ ll see

’

th . For ance, by my faith ey re mistaken

s s I promised the las es a pree,

’ I promised the lads a paradin , I canna w eel hae ’ t—let me see

’ Unless I get up a bit waddi n . TH E A R E PI TY LADS THAT FR E E . 93

’ I se I think send o w er for the clark ,

He might cry us out the niest Su n day ;

’ ’ I t s — w inter w e re nae thrang at w ark , Sae I think I ’ ll just marry ’ gin Monday

’ EMIGRANT S SONG .

T N U E Gilde roy .

TH E n gallant bark no w quits the stra d , That bears me far a w ay

From kindred , and the friends I love

Alas ! an d lose for aye

And soon my native hills and glens ,

’ N ow robed in summer s hue,

Shall vani sh like a passing though t That memory never kne w 94 ’ E M I G R A N T S SON G .

l The s w elling sai s are flapping w ide , As struggling to be free

And ocean , w ith its thousand w aves,

Will soon my d w elling be

For every sound that greets mine ear, Of parting seems to tell

And w avelets, rippling to the shore ,

” Half- w hisper Fare thee w ell !

Edina, w ith her rocks and to w ers,

z t No w daz les in my sigh ,

’ And ne er, until this hour, appeared So lovely and so bright !

’ And yet a sadd n i n g thought a w akes

’ My bosom s every pain , ’ d For ne er, in gla ness nor in gloom , S hall I see her again

! Adieu thou seat of palaces , Thou native spot of mine Where maiden charms and manly w orth

’ In happy blendings shine .

[ 9 6 3

U ’ THE BRIGHT S N 0 SIMMER .

The col r ost m r n d f y o n i g .

’ TH E ht 0 brig sun simmer but lately w as shining, . The birds sang in joy an d the earth blossomed green

’ t An hope spoke of days w ithou care or repining,

’ ’ 0 Like those that in dreams my childhood I ve seen .

’ ’ the 0 But no w bro w n leaves the forest are fa ing, An ’ quickly the sun hastens do w n through the sky

are blawi n The w inds, frae the caverns of w inter, g ,

h . They tell me t at simmer, like youth , has gone by

’ ’ 0 ! w here are the fond hearts 0 life s sunny morning ! Nae mair by the green w ood or valley they ’re seen

’ ’ fl ow re ts They ve perished, like the fair earth adorning ,

As if childhood and young simmer never had been . ’ TH E B R IGHT S U N o SI M M E R . 9 7

the o And w here is music, the j y , and the gladness,

’ That s w elled through the grove a the lang simmer day P ! ’ ’ wi ’ Alas a is fled , and my heart s filled sadness,

! For the music of youth , too, hath melted a w ay

’ ’ 0 ! fl ow re ts fare w ell , ye , the fairest an brightest ! t i Tha sprung on he mountain , or bloomed on the lea i And fare w ell , ye fond hearts, the w armest and l ghtest ,

’ ' rn Nae mair ye i e tu to charm Nature an me .

w i ’ And w elcome bleak w inter, days w ild and dreary ,

For the blasts of misfortune have left me forlorn

’

And my soul it is sad, an my spirit is w eary ,

’ ' ’ IVi pou d ring on joys fl e d that ne er can ret u rn ’ A BUMPE R TO THEE

a s i r i d Ai r m a r thcom n a l ( S e t to p le , f r o f o i g v olu me of Or ig i n

b M ‘LE D E M e lo e s E O s . di , y PET R , q )

A bumper to thee a bumper t o thee

the A cup to fair, and a health to the free ;

0 bath f t le this toast a spell , w e shall qua f it w i h g e ,

A bumper to thee ! a bumper to thee

LE T the w ine mantle high in a goblet of joy , h Be it Alicant brig t or Burgundy famed,

the O my soul , like cup , to my lip shall spring up,

When friendship and thou in a bumper art named !

& c . A bumper to thee,

’ he O t Arno rolls deep through Italia s gay land,

And fair on its banks gro w s the w ide -spreading vine

[ 1 00 ]

U THO WEARY MORN .

’ T N - Old S e t. U E Gu de n i cht a n j oy . ( )

O ! TH U w eary morn, w hen w ilt thou da w n And yet nae gladness comes wi ’ day But day an ’ night I mourning sigh

’ For loved hours fled an joys a w ay .

My laddie w as the kindest s w ain ,

’ wi ’ ’ An sought my heart a his skill , An ’ yet I ’ ve tint that lad sae true

’ ’ ’ ’ Wi w oman s pr ide an w oman s w ill .

’ hi m It w asna but I lo ed w eel ,

It wasna but I thought him kind,

’ But just that silly pride 0 heart

That lovers shouldna ever mind . ’ TH O U H E AR Y M O R N . 1 01

t w a s o He tauld me that my hear pr ud ,

’ An w hat he said w as maybe true,

But little does my laddie ke n Ho w humbled lo w that heart is no w

' ke e ki t afl At kirk , I my beuk

To see if he w ould look at me ,

’ But ne er a blink gat I frae him , ’

’ Although the tear stood in my e e .

” ’ re achi n - An w hen the p time w as done ,

Ilk lassie had her lover gay ,

IVhile I gaed do w ie hame alane , ’ 0 ! An , it w as a w eary w ay

’ 1 But the lav rock sings high the lift,

’ ’ Although his nest s deep i the glen

S ac , though my w ithered hopes are lo w , They maybe yet w ill rise again

The sun behind the cloud does shine , Although his face w e dinna see

Sac e t rov c ki my dear lad may y p nd ,

' Although i t a s eems d a rk to m e ! [ 1 02 ]

THE RE ’ S PLEASURE WHEN THE

MORNING SUN .

Wr i lle n to a n a n cie n t B or de r m e lody . )

’ TH E RE S pl e asure w hen the morning sun looks o w er

the mountain gray ,

’ ’ And shines on the fl ow re ts a blushing in the de w

When the starnies in the blue lift in dimness fade a w ay ,

’ And the little singing birdies their sangs a rene w .

’ B u t 0 i n b e a no the sun morn , though brightness p r pea ,

r s t e w And simme in gladnes comes o w er h flo ery lea, m Can gie me sic delight as a smile frae y dear,

’ The lassie o m y heart that is dearest to me !

i t w1 Her face is the rose ne w ly w ashed a sho w er,

’ Her ringlets the slae -berries o the jetty dye

1 04 ’ THE RE S PLEAS U RE WH E N T H E M ORN ING S U N .

’ ’ t he 0 he r t Her beauty s but image pure heart w i hin ,

’ ’ The language 0 her soul i t is tauld in her e e

th l e e Wi n And her love mair an go w d , I w il ver s ek to ,

’ The love 0 m y lassie that s dearest to me

O THOU BROOM , THOU BONNIE BUSH

’ O BROOM .

T U N E C owde n kn owe s .

’ O thou broom , thou bonnie bush o broom ,

I leave that land and thee ,

Where freedom and thou hae flourished lang, Where freemen still are free

TH E a n d Indian vales are rich fair,

’ ’ fl ow re t s And bright is the bloom ,

But w hat are the flo w ers and the myrtle bo w ers ,

If I mi ss my n a tive broom P ! ’ O B ROO O B O N N B o B R . o TH U M , TH U I E USH OO M 1 05

W e ’ Then ilt thou come, thou bonni bush o broom , And gro w on a Foreign strand !

That I may think, w hen I look on thee , I ’ m still i n fair S cotland

’ ah But , that thought could ne er be Though thou beside me sprang

Nor though yon bird , to Scotia dear ,

0 0 ’ 0 D i d follo w W i i ts sang .

’

h t a t e e i i . Thy branc es green migh w ave ,

o tli s At m rn y flo w er might bla w ,

n Cowde n ki i ow e s But it w ad a be on ,

Nor yet by Ettrick Sha w .

’ O thou broom , thou bonnie bush o broom ,

o Th u bonnie bonnie broom , ‘

i n a i st for I could w eep days that are gane ,

When I think on days to come .

’ ca s o th My native land f r a sigh ,

An d o s ro te a r th u , w eet b om , a , 06 ’ O B R OO O B ON N B H o . o TH U M , TH U I E US B ROO M

For I canna tak thee frae the braes

’ To Which thou s lang be en dear .

h t ’ O t ou broom , hou bonnie bush o broom,

I leave that land and thee,

Where freedom and thou hae flourished lang ,

Where f re e m e i i still are fre e

M ’ WHAT EANS A TH IS SCORNING, MY LASSIE !

T U N E Ta m Gle n .

’ l ! WH AT means a this scorning, my assie An ’ w hat mean thae looks o ’ disdain

It w asna your w ont to be saucy,

It isna your nature, I ken .

’ bre ckan Langsyne, w hen w e met mang the ,

You laughed the young simmer day by

[ 1 08 ]

BONNI E SH IP COMES HAME

AGAIN .

d T U N E H ig hla n d La di e .

TH E h bonnie s ip comes hame again, Wi ’ White sails skimming o w er the main

’ I ve gatten w ord frae Ge rm a n i e

’ That my love s ship comes o w er the sea .

Its o w er the sea and o w er the w ave, 0 , ilka tempest she w ill brave, Though tempest rude should never be

’ When my love s coming o w er the sea .

W1 my dear lad w ha can compare !

His eye is bright , his face is fair ;

hi s t His heart is kind, s ep is free,

’ 0 ! m y l ove s coming o w er the se a . N TH E B O N I E S H I P C O M ES HA M E AGAI N . 1 09

su n m om The at w ill guide him hame ,

’ fae m The moon at e en w ill light the ,

’ ’ th bon n ili e An starnies ey ll blink ,

’ For my love s coming o w er the sea .

’ ' 0 bl thsom e da s , simmer s y y are near,

’ ’ ’ The blackbird s e e n i n sang I hear

In gladsome notes he sings to me,

For my love s com i ng o w er the sea . ’ w Welcome, ye w oods, a aving green ,

’ ’ An w elcome days, sic as I ve seen

’ IVhe n wi my kind lad did gang me,

’ Far frae the din o stormy sea ! [ 1 1 0 ]

S D . AWAKE , DEARE T MA ALINE

Wr tte n to the Ai r M l i th col rou n a n d se t i y odg i ng s on e d g d,

to a n or n a l me lo b F N ig i dy , y I LAY

W e A AKE , dearest Madaline s w e t love, arise This fair summer morning to vie w

’ The sun s left his bed w here the seas kiss the skies,

’ The lark his green couch mong the de w .

’ But the sun , brightly rising o er Nature all gay, On one fair as thee does not shine

’ w ak n i n the Nor voice of the morning lark , g day ,

Can equal the music of thine

’ From the long night of w inter the fl ow re ts come And modestly blush into day

the A joy and a gladness are over earth ,

t Arise, my s w ee love, come a w ay

[ 1 1 2 ]

MY BONNIE BELL .

T he m ll m l N E T l 0. U i , i ,

‘ MY bonnie Bell , my bonnie Bell, Ye’ ve left me filled wi ’ sorro w

’ A w aefu day is ilka day,

A gri e v m g day ilk morro w .

’ Ye ve left the bonnie La w land braes,

“ the h - Where heat er bell is blooming,

a nd the For the craggy steep valley deep, h h W ere the Hig land deer is roaming .

h ’ The Highland ills are high an w ide ,

’ And no for your feet clim i n g

Far better by your ain burn side,

Where the siller trouts are s w imming . M Y B ON N I E B E L L . 1 1 3

’ i n on a s There s y a heart w ill beat , ye

Cross mountain , muir, or river

But there is ane, in a La w land glen ,

His heart is thine forever

’ A do w ie face w ears burn an brae , They ’ ve tint w i ’ you their grandeur

While proud w ill seem ilk mountain stream ,

As by i ts hanks ye w ander

t s s O , has e ye hame, for nae bird ing

’ Save waeso me notes 0 mourning

’ They keep their sangs an canty springs

To w elcome y our returning [ 1 1 4 ]

TH E AUTUMN WINDS ARE BLAWING .

FRAG M E N T .

’ T U N E F lowe r s 0 the f or e st.

TH E i n autumn w inds are bla w ing, red leaves are fa g , An ’ Nature is mourning the simmer ’ s decay

’ the fl ow re ts The w ee birdies singing, w ee springing, Hae tint a’ their sangs an ’ w i thered a w ay

I , too, am mourning, for death has nae returning

’ bai rn i e s ! Where are my , the young an the gay

h the s P Why should they peris , blossoms w e cheri h

The beautiful are sleepi n g cauld in the clay

wa s Fair their morning, their beauty adorning,

’ 0 The mavis sang s w eet at the closing day ,

O I B U T MY . , COULD PICTURE LASSIE

T U N E i l n m ou r s of Gle n !

0 O i , C ULD I but picture my lassie sae charm ng,

’ As w eel as the charms o my lassie I Se e !

w- But har hae I phrases or language sae w arming,

’ ’ ’ As tell o the smile 0 he r bonnie black e e P

’ a 0 Her lips are as red as the s ft rose simmer, Or berries that gro w on the tall ro w an tree

The moon - beam that sleeps on the w hite sna w is dimmer Than the glance that fa ’ s do w n frae her bonnie black

’

e e .

’ ’ I ve seen maidens decked out WI art s richest gran

deur, A ’ Sparkling in diamonds that come o w er the sea O O B U T U R . 1 1 , C ULD I PICT E M Y LASSI E 7

’ ’ I m thi n ki n they need them to gie them some splen

o d ur,

’ e e But Mary needs nane , save her bonnie black

’ to the s O , dear lammie s the green gra sy mountain ,

n And dear is the flo w er to the you g hiney bee,

’ ’ trav lle r the s And dear to the desert lone fountain ,

’ But dearer to me is her bonnie black e e

‘ i to W She w hiles tr es jeer me , she w hiles inna

me ,

S he o r s to w hiles is , seem be, saucy to me ;

' f or a But there is nae hiding , her coy chiding

- The tell tale that lies in her bonnie black e e .

’ I speered gif she w anted to part w i he r lover P

I speered gif she w anted her lover to ( lee !

’ ke e ki t S e e m An to if y w ords they did move her,

’ ’ ’ Ai i sa w a tear bli n di n her bonnie black e e !

’ ’ o a n O c me to me , Mary , ye se be my dearie

’ S he looki t turned round her head , an she ajee ;

’ ’ o to I to k her an kissed her, an me I pressed her,

’ ’ An dichted the tear frae he r bonnie black c c . ' “ v v 1 1 8 0 O B U R M Y LAS S I E . , C ULD I T P I CTU E

m she ~ Her s w eet s ile returning , blushed like the morn

ing ,

’ the t ' An said, I am yours till day hat I dee

’ ’

0 wi . , love ever tarry me an my Mary,

’ ’ ’ ’ I m blest neath the smile 0 her bonnie black e e

YE STREEN I SLE PT .

‘ TU N E E mbr o Ka ti e .

’ YEST R EE N I slept an dreamed of her

Wha aften keeps the sleep frae me ,

I thought w e met in some bright land, Some holy land w here angels be ! For every face w e there did see

Was dimmed by neither w oe nor care,

’ m i n stre lse And harps w oke heaven s high y ,

’ Because m y love w as li st n in g there !

[ 1 20 ]

BONNIE PEGGIE GORDON .

T r a U N E H ig hla n d H a r y ba ck g a i n .

’ OW 0 N simmer w alks in robes green ,

’ s On ilka flo w ery bank she s een,

' ’ thou rt Then come, my love, simmer s queen

Bonnie Peggie Gordon .

’ We ll w ander w here the primrose springs,

the - Where rose bud de w y hings ,

’ the m u rm ri n Where burnie g sings, Bonnie Peggie Gordon

’ ou I ll lead thee do w n y sunny lea, Where the scented ha w thorn tree B O N N I E PE GG I E G O RD ON . 1 1

h i ts t s e e ts for t e S eds fragran w h e ,

Bonnie Peggie Gordo n .

be e ha s e t i ts o The l f f ggy den , An ’ comes—O w eel its notes I ken

t Saf humming frae the moorland glen ,

B onnie Peggie Gordon

’ ’ ’ s t ’ the bu ri i i e s O , af s rocky fa ,

’ ’ Ai i t saf s the w inds that o w er it bla w ,

’ o But l ve has tales mair saft than a ,

Bonnie Peggie Gord on .

o t the sk The fl w ery ear h , sunny y ,

M a n y please the se se , may charm the eye,

B ut h , to my heart , noug t gies sic joy

As bonnie Peggie Gordon .

on Do w n y birken sha w s amang ,

\Vli e re the blackbird w akes his sang ,

s t ! There , my faire , w ilt thou gang

Bonnie Peggie G ordon . 1 22 B O NNI E PEGGI E GORDON .

’ There I ll w oo thee, seen by nane ,

Gaze on thy fair charms alane,

’ ’ Forgetting a this w arld o pain

In bonnie Peggie Gordon .

GATHE R IN, GATHE R IN .

’ de wr tte n or the A n n ve r sa r o B u r ns b r th a o th Ai r ( O , i f i y f i d y , t e

’ ” W ha a m w n ow wha 2 se t to a n or n l m lo b s t y i d , ig i a e dy , y

‘ E M LE OD E s . P TER , q )

’ ’ ’ ’ R GATH E in, gather in, ane an a , an a ,

’ ’ Gather in, gather in, ane an a

This night , ever dear,

’ Claims 3. cup an a tear

’ ’ ’ R N To the memory of B U S that s a w a , a w a ,

’ ’ To the memory of BUR N S that s a w a

’ s t wa Auld Scotland had bards ane or , or t w a,

’ s Auld Scotland s had bard ane or t w a,

[ 1 24 ]

O TAKE ME TO YON SUNNY ISLE .

TU N E Gr a ma chr e e .

’ O TAKE me to yon sunny isle that stands i n Fortha s

sea , h For t ere, all lonely , I may w eep , since tears my lot must be

The caverned rocks alone sh all hear my anguish and

my w oe ,

! llI ar ! . ! But can their echoes y bring Ah no, no, no

’ b the t I ll w ander y silen shore, or climb the rocky steep , And list to ocean murmuring the music of the deep

’ ’ e v n i n s But, w hen the soft moon lights the w aves in g

silver glo w ,

’ S n o hall Mary meet me neath its light Ah no, no, o ! TAK E M E To Y ON S UN N Y I SLE . 1 25

’ to s I ll speak of her every flo w er , and lovely flo w er are

t here ,

’ how h s f or she They ll maybe t eir head and w eep , , like

th w as em , fair

’ h o And every bird I ll teac a s ng , a plaintive song of w oe ,

M t ! ! But ary cannot hear heir strains Ah no, no, no

S a the to lo w ste ls sun ado w n the sky, as loath part w ith

day ,

w t But airy morn; i h carolling voice, shall w ake him forth as gay

’ su Yet Mary s n rose bright and fair, and no w that sun

is lo w ,

’ m ! n o n o Shall its fair bea e er grace the morn Ah , no,

st But I mu shed the hidden tear , lest Mary mark my

care ,

o t bu t i t s h The stifling gr an may break my hear , all rankle there

’ o t w oe I ll even feign the u w ard smile to hide my in w ard ,

! I wou ld n ot have her w ee1I i n heaven Ah n o n o n o

B ALL AD S , Si c .

BALLAD .

’ I T w as bout the auld hansel Monanday time,

’ ’ ’ ’ ’ ’ d dri nki n s When ancin , an , an singin nae crime, That a canty auld carle cam do w n by the burn,

’ ’ all n An to w ards our dw i his feet he did turn .

! . The gudeman cried , Eppie gae rise, let him in

’ ’ ’ fe asti n Ye re w elcome, auld man , to our an din What ne w s do ye bring frae the kintra or to w n

’

S ac ch re ai I . w e dichted a y , he sat himsel do w n 1 30 B AL LAD .

n Across his braid shouthers a Scotch plaid w as flu g,

At his feet w as a dog, and his hand held a rung ;

’ ’ - fashan t 0 An his auld coat, patches no fe w ,

Might, thretty year syne, hae aiblins been ne w

’ ’ i the t 0 hi s A bra w demas w a s coat , bes claes,

— be s ak Sair w orn like its o w ner, p better days

But his w hite sark, sae hale, as if just frae the loom , S ha w ed a pride in the heart though the pouch might be toom

’ Strange ferlies he tauld us, an bra w sangs he sung ,

’ ’ ’ ’ Wi e 0 0 the s nse the auld an the w it the young ,

’ ’ An sae w eel they cam in , an sae fine they did chime , That they seemed as they ’ d a ’ j ust been made for the

time .

’ He toomed out the bicker an w hanged do w n the cheese,

Than the gudema n himsel he seemed mair at his ease

e t n or But y , naething for w ard, nor saucy , high ,

’ ’ T w as the ease o a king w hen his cro w n is laid by

1 32 B A LLAD .

’ ’ cor ra l awki e an s For the curly w ee p , sae p lee,

’ ’ ’ wi dafli n e Seemed to share, his master, the an gl e

’ ' bl the st ha But the y that meet , be t in cot or in ,

’ ’ ’ Maun aye dree the fell thocht o gangin a w a If the meeting gie pleasure, the parting gies pain

’ Shall w e e er see the canty auld car le agai n !

When the w ee starnies peeped o w er the auld castle

’ Our canty auld carle said Fare ye w eel a

a sit l We pressed him to bide, but he w adn stil ,

’ But said he d be back w hen the sna w left the hill.

’ we e bai rn i e s The auld folk w ere grieved, an the grat, An ’ looked to the place w here the auld man had sat

IVe sought him in hamlet, w e sought him in glen,

’ But the canty auld carle cam ne er back again [ 1 33 ]

BALLA D .

E LL u k s e u O T me, gin tho w ert a ing , w hat plea ur w o ld be thine

the i Wouldst thou for pearls explore deep, for d amonds search the mine ! l To sparkle on thy si ken robes, or glitter on thy cro w n,

With lords an d ladi es worshi pping thy glory and reno w n !

0 e kin s u t ll me, gin thou w ert a g, w hat plea ure w o ld

be thine l Wou d sumptuous banquets be thy fare, thy drink the ruby Wine !

’ Wi th ladies fair to sing to thee the minstrel s s w eetest

lay , And lords to laugh at ilka w ord that thou w ert pleased

to sa y . 1 34 B ALLAD .

0 h tell me, gin t ou w ert a king , w hat pleasure w ould be thine !

Wouldst thou f or feats of chivalry or deeds of valour

shine

l the ha Or fo lo w at gallant c se, or lead the glorious

w ar, W l Returning ith the laure ed bro w , and breast w ith ho

’ n our s star

0 tell me, gin thou w ert a king, w hat pleasure w ould be thine

W th the to ouldst ou pursue road fame, and w oo the fi ckle Nine P

t to - Have ear h laud thy heaven born strains, and praise

’ thy w itchi n g theme

P— Enjoy the dream of poesy i t is a pleasing dream

0 tell me , gin thou w ert a king, w hat pleasure w ould be thine !

’ thOu Wouldst cause genius cease to mourn, an poortith

! cea se to pine

[ 1 36 ]

BALLAD .

E R E TH cam to our village a stranger,

’ A bra w chiel frae bra w Lon on to w n,

’ ' An a fi a bra w naig at the alehouse

’ Fu bra w ly he lighted him do w n .

‘ M Vi car The landlord, auld Rabbie , Wi ’ booing I w at didna spare,

’ Walcom e dwalli n Said, to this our plain , Yet bravely I vo w ye sal fare

’ ’ 0 I ll thra w round the neck a chuckie, The fattest e’ er ran on t w a legs ’ l ’ I ll s it up the craig o a grumphie,

’ — They mak famous e ati n young pigs

’ ’ There s a clag o co w heel on a trencher,

’ A gude haggis sooms i the pat, B A LLAD . 1 3 7

’ ’ ’ ’ Gi rz s u ddi n s An y, ye see , makin p ,

What else could w e do WI the fat

’ The paitricks play w hirr mang the claver,

The trou tie s dance by in the burn

’ ’ It s fine to kill birds an catch fishes,

’ An eat them w hen ance w e return .

’ ’ ’ An , after a s done, w e ve a drappie,

’ y The gauger e ll surely no tell ,

I we c say sal hae a gude appie,

We while s bre w the whisky ourse l

’ uk For be s w e ve a gay w heen amang us,

’ ’ We ve some body s some thi ng on la w

’ ’ R ac m We ve BU NS complete in volu e,

’ ’ ’ But then the best half o t s a w a

c R We yince had a Pati and oger,

’ I think w e ve still gatten a part,

But auld Tibby Go w ans, the ho w die ,

’ Can rhyme o w er the maist o t by heart

’ For sangs, ye may hae half a hun er ,

Our Jenny hersel can sing ten 1 38 B AL LAD .

’ The Bra w lads o famed Galla w ater,

’ An the lass that made love to Tam Glen .

’ There s Sandy Macgregor, the piper,

His music micht charm do w n a Saunt ;

’ 0 I , mysel, am a bit a scraper, Sae w hat the deil else w ad ye w ant !

’ There s t w a three droll folk in the village, For sample I ’ se name ye a fe w

’ There s Jamie Macfarlane , the skipper, He ’ s been w har the oranges gre w ’ h ’ An t ere s Eppie Blake, decent bodie,

’ Brings cookies frae Auld Re e ki e s town ;

— ’ Na, mair she sells tea, tripe, an soda,

’ An sugar baith candied and bro w n .

’ Tammie Scott an his w ife, Nelly Grundy,

’ ’ 0 Are great friends auld w ives an brats,

’ ’ For the tae n s near as famed sellin gundy As the tither ’ s at killin ’ the rats !

’ There s the black -horn spectacled dominie

’ H e s a deep-learned bodie the Clark

1 40 P AR OD Y .

Read, read, every tale cleverly , All the old novels are over the border

and Many a book lies dead, dusty, never read, Many a chiel w ants a thread to his story

’ R 0 t s e While WALTE , that king men, jus w ith his ingl

pen ,

i w l ro e d i n L ke a giant, e l g gg , marches on his glory

z n Come from your tales full of murders ama i g, Come from romaunts gone to bed long ago

’ - Come from the scribb lers w hom pye men are praising,

Come to Re dgau n tle t and brave I v anhoe

’ S oor' s i fame is sounding , readers abound ng, May laurels long circle his locks thi n and hoary

S l m da cotland sha l any a y s peak of her bard, and say,

H e for lived his country, and w rote for her glory [ 1 41 ]

THE H ALF D ROWND ED TAR .

P AROD Y .

’ LO Le ith s A NG by the banks of ancient harbour,

Oakurh di ve Jack reeled drunk from a on the shore, O w hither , they cried , dost thou steer so to larboard

h - l W en , plump , from the quay side, he quickly fe l o ’ er ! What voice did I hear ! Was ’ t a pilot that ba w led !

Full loudly he ba w led, though he ventured not

far ;

’ But Jack, by the moonlight, a rope s end espied,

l -drown de d And, s w earing, he landed a ha f tar

From his bosom , that heaved , the salt w ater w as stream

ing,

' hi s ta r And w et w as jacket , deep marked o er w ith 1 42 PA R O DY .

And empty that purse, once w ith sovereigns full s w im

in ing, For he’ d melted in love w hat he earned in w ar

h a So they ied him a w ay to a tavern th t night,

re n de zv orj Where the s stood in the time of the w ar,

But the landlord looked blue at his pitiful plight ,

And offered no grog to the half- dronmdcd tar

r the l Thou shalt d ink , they all cried, land ord w ill trust

thee,

We shall rm g for some rum and a lighted cigar

o Ah no, Jack replied, he l oks devilish crusty ,

- No grog w ill he dra w for a half dr ow nde d tar .

I t Split my timbers cried Jack , w hile his jacke he thre w ,

And the landlord he floored w ith a terrible sca r

’ The pilots ne er w aited to bid him adieu ,

l - dronm rle d tar ! B ut ran, like the devil , from the ha f

1 44 PAR ODY .

S cotla Wha for s ancient drink , Will fill a bicker to the brink !

S n Scotsmen w ake or cotsme w ink,

Aqu av i tae aye for me

By taxation ’ s w oes and pam s

’ By the smuggler s ill -got gains

We shall raise our w ildest strains,

For it shall be free Lay the big gin bottle lo w In the fire the port w ine thro w Let the tide of w hisky flo w !

a e Like liberty , y free [ 1 45 ]

SONG .

TH E grave it holds my fairest no w , The loved one of my heart

Ah little thought I w e so soon ,

S O sadly soon should part h She peris ed in her loveliness, In beauty pined a w ay

Like flo w er that falls beneath the storm , Before its leaves decay

Hope dre w a picture lovely , bright ,

Nor cloud nor storm waS ‘ the re

But sunny tints, in golden hues ,

Tinged all the landscape fair .

’ B u t ah low ri n , the g tempest fell , h ’ And ope s gay vision fled ,

n o h And life has no w c arm for me , Since all my life is dead ! SONG .

’ Y E rax me a bicker an dunch me to sing

’ ’ ’ Waes me ye ken naething O love s dre adfu sting

tri fl e s Or, after sic , ye never w ad speer ,

Nae sang could ye sing, nae sang could ye hear

’ I yince had a lassie , baith sonsy an fair , Wha jilted me fairly— sae ’ bout her nae mair

’ ’ thi n ki n 0 he r W Yet ham I courted sae lang,

’ ’ I d as sune mak a pre achi n as sing ye a sang !

t thochts To sing by my fai h, ither I hae taen,

’ What ne w w ay I might leave this warld O pain ;

’ ’ ’ han i n s n For g threadbare, an the k ife s no for me,

’ ’ An arsn i c micht no w i my w eak stam ack gree

’ I w hiles think my heart s gaun to break , but I find

’ ’ It s only my wai s coat gro w n straiter behind i Sae I maun just thole w hat is no like to k ll,

’ ’ ’ I se no sing a sang but I se preeve 0 your yill .

1 48 B ALLAD .

the d The day is short, night is col ,

’ And darkness falls o er glen and w old, Save w hen the sun sho w s feebly bright One sno w y w aste of endless w hite '

’ H ow changed from days w hen hunter s

A w oke the lark at early morn i d O for days l ke these I fon ly sigh ,

- When a hunting goes my dog and I .

In slumbers deep my dog does lie,

Of Save w hen he dreams fields gone by, l And, starting, thinks he sti l does trace

The by-gone glories of the chase

e ! Sle p on, my dog for fierce w inds blo w ,

’ And streams run hoarse neath ice and sno w ,

But w hen summer comes and fields are dry,

To the hunting goes my dog and I .

’ ’ w an d ri n s The g minstrel at my door, A homeless pilgrim old and poor

Come in, lone man , and w ake a chime Of song and tale of olden time B AL LAD . 1 49

l Recall those scenes sti l in my mind, Of stag before and steed behind !

' draws n i h The storm is loud, but the time g

- When a hunting goes my dog and I .

the Strike loud harp, fill high the w ine,

Fair b an ds w ill spread that couch of thi ne

One night in dreams forget thy w oes , Though minstrel ’ s sleep is short repose

' ’ wan d re r sle e s ! The p ah soon , forlorn, He ’ ll sleep that sleep w hich kno w s no morn

’ Yet, o er his grave , oft w ill I sigh ,

a - When hunting goes my dog and I .

T H E E N D .

LEIT H P R N B Y J M S B R I TED A E U N E T . I N D E ! .

AG N le t u s we com e th s da m a r than on AI l i y i y ,

’ Aw a e cau l o e s , y d l v r ,

A a n m n at e co t a e a s g i y iv pp r ,

A a n the da the ha da g i y, ppy y ,

’ A a n e t s ha l the che e i n s n g i l i r g pri g,

A can t san a can t an y g, y s g,

Awak e m ha th sa te st la , y rp , y f y , ’

A bu m e to the e a bu m e to the e p r p r ,

Awak e de a e st a ali n e , r M d ,

’ ' A on h f L i th s an ci n t harb our l g by t e b ank s O e e ,

‘ ’ B the b the w e a be m e ly , ly , ll rry,

’ B R oslin s an c e nt towe s y i r ,

’ Com e a e o al to e s , y j vi p r ,

D a s of so ow n hts Of m ou n n y rr , ig r i g,

D nk i t e t d nk i t e t ri y , ri y ,

’ ’ d n a s to wi m e k e le e E i wn , i l g ,

Fa e the e w e for I m u st e a ve the e r ll, l ,

’ Gle n al e n wi th va e s e e n y v , y ll y gr ,

’ ’ ’ ’ athe i n a the i n an e an a an a G r , g r , , ,

h w i n dow love I look e d lon g a t t y , ,

’ a s 0 an s n e whe n w e car es w e e ou n I n the d y l g y , l r y g,

d a e m on a da I cou rte M ggi y y ,

1 2 5 I N DE ! .

Th e hou r i s com e m a r d e ar , y M y ,

’ Ti s the fi st ose of su m m e tha t O e s to m e w r r r p y vi ,

’ The boa t e s ow n ow e th e e e i r i g r d p,

The ru m f w r h d t ow t p O a ha t ce a se o bl ,

The su n be h n on m ou n ta n , i d y i ,

’ The oe ts what oo s the e to de av e u s p , f l y r ,

The a an t b a k n ow ui ts the st an d g ll r q r ,

—’ The b ht su n O ~ sirn m e r bu t lat w as shini n rig e ly g,

Thou w e a r m h u awn y orn, whe n w ilt t o d ,

’ The e s e asu e wh e n the m orni n su n r pl r g ,

The b onn e sh i ip com e s ham e a ga in ,

’ The au tu m n w n ds are b aw n re d e av e s are a n i l i g, l f i g,

‘ The e cam to ou r v ll a e a st an e r i g r g r,

The a e i t ho ds m a e st n ow gr v l y f ir ,

Wh tar e s m t ue lo e so on on the se a y ri y r v l g ,

W te w te tour st an d t a v e e ri , ri , i r ll r,

’ Wh at m e an s a th s scorn n m ass e i i g, y l i ,

oun W l e the ou hm an has n ae an n or s e r Y g i li , pl g , l d ill ,

’ ’ e s tre e n I s e t an d e a m e d 0 he Y l p r r,

’ Y e r ax m e a b cke an d un ch m e to sm i r g,