The works of Allan Ramsay edited by Burns Martin ... and John W. Oliver [... and Alexander M. Kinghorn ... and Alexander Law] |
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AN ODE,
With a Pastoral Recitative on the Marriage of
the Right Honourable, James Earl of Wemyss
and Mrs. Janet Charteris.
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 | The works of Allan Ramsay |  |
85
AN ODE, With a Pastoral Recitative on the Marriage of the Right Honourable, James Earl of Wemyss and Mrs. Janet Charteris.
RECITATIVE.Last Morn young Rosalind, with laughing Een,
Met with the singing Shepherd on the Green;
Armyas height, wha us'd with tunefu' Lay
To please the Ear, when he began to play:
Him with a Smile the blooming Lass addrest;
Her chearfu' Look her inward Joy confest.
ROSALIND.
Dear Shepherd, now exert your wonted Fire,
I'll tell you News that shall your Thoughts inspire.
ARMYAS.
Out wi' them, bonny Lass, and if they'll bear,
But Ceremony you a Sang shall hear.
ROSALIND.
They'll bear, and do invite the blythest Strains,
The beauteous CHARTERISSA of these Plains,
Still to them dear, wha late made us sae wae,
When we heard tell she was far aff to gae,
And leave our heartsome Fields, her native Land,
Now's ta'en in time, and fixt by Hymen's Band.
86
To whom? Speak fast;—I hope ye dinna jeer.
ROSALIND.
No, no, my Dear, 'tis true, as we stand here.
The Thane of Fife, wha lately wi' his Flane,
And Vizy leel, made the Blyth Bowl his ain:
He, the Delight of baith the Sma' and Great,
Wha's bright Beginning spae his sonsy Fate,
Has gain'd her Heart; and now their mutual Flame
Retains the Fair, and a' her Wealth, at Hame.
ARMYAS.
Now Rosalind, may never Sorrow twine
Sae near your Heart, as Joys arise in mine.
Come kiss me, Lassie, and you's hear me sing
A Bridal Sang that thro' the Woods shall ring.
ROSALIND.
Ye'r ay sae daft, come take it, and hae done;
Let a' the Lines be saft, and sweet the Tune.
Armyas Sings.
Come, Shepherds, a' your Whistles join,
And shaw your blythest Faces;
The Nymph that we were like to tine,
At hame her Pleasure places.
Lilt up your Notes baith loud and gay,
Yet sweet as Philomella's,
And yearly solemnize the Day
When this good Luck befell us,
And shaw your blythest Faces;
The Nymph that we were like to tine,
At hame her Pleasure places.
Lilt up your Notes baith loud and gay,
Yet sweet as Philomella's,
And yearly solemnize the Day
When this good Luck befell us,
87
Hail to the Thane descended frae
MACDUFF renown'd in Story,
Wha Albion, frae tyrannick Sway,
Restor'd to ancient Glory:
His early Blossoms loud proclaim,
That frae this Stem he rises,
Whase Merit gives him Right to Fame,
And to the highest Prizes.
MACDUFF renown'd in Story,
Wha Albion, frae tyrannick Sway,
Restor'd to ancient Glory:
His early Blossoms loud proclaim,
That frae this Stem he rises,
Whase Merit gives him Right to Fame,
And to the highest Prizes.
His lovely Countess sing, ye Swains,
Nae Subject can be sweeter;
The best of Blood flows in her Veins,
Which makes ilk Grace compleater:
Bright are the Beauties of her Mind,
Which frae her Dawn of Reason,
With a' the Rays of Wit hath shin'd,
Which Vertue still did season.
Nae Subject can be sweeter;
The best of Blood flows in her Veins,
Which makes ilk Grace compleater:
Bright are the Beauties of her Mind,
Which frae her Dawn of Reason,
With a' the Rays of Wit hath shin'd,
Which Vertue still did season.
Straight as the Plane her Features fair,
And bonny to a Wonder;
Were Jove rampaging in the Air,
Her Smiles might stap his Thunder.
Rejoice in her then, Happy Youth;
Her innate Worth's a Treasure;
Her Sweetness a' your Cares will sooth,
And furnish endless Pleasure.
And bonny to a Wonder;
Were Jove rampaging in the Air,
Her Smiles might stap his Thunder.
Rejoice in her then, Happy Youth;
Her innate Worth's a Treasure;
Her Sweetness a' your Cares will sooth,
And furnish endless Pleasure.
Lang may ye live t'enjoy her Charms,
And lang lang may they blossom,
Securely screen'd within your Arms,
And lodged in your Bosom.
Thrice happy Parents, justly may
Your Breasts with Joy be fired,
When you the darling Pair survey,
By a' the Warld admired.
And lang lang may they blossom,
Securely screen'd within your Arms,
And lodged in your Bosom.
Thrice happy Parents, justly may
Your Breasts with Joy be fired,
When you the darling Pair survey,
By a' the Warld admired.
| The works of Allan Ramsay | |