The poetical works of Susanna Blamire "The Muse of Cumberland." ::

The poetical works of Susanna Blamire "The Muse of Cumberland."

Now for the first time collected by Henry Lonsdale; With a preface, memoir, and notes by Patrick Maxwell

Blamire, Susanna (1747-1794)

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STOKLEWATH;

THE LILY OF THE VALLEY,

THE INVITATION.

THE FAREWELL TO AFFECTION.

THE RECALL TO AFFECTION.

TO A LADY, WHO FREQUENTLY WITHDREW FROM COMPANY.

THE LILY'S TRIUMPH OVER THE ROSE.

MAY NOT THE LOVE OF PRAISE BE AN INCENTIVE TO VIRTUE?

THE BOWER OF ELEGANCE.

THE ADIEU AND RECALL TO LOVE.

TO-MORROW.

ADDRESS TO HEALTH

THE NUN'S RETURN TO THE WORLD,

ON IMAGINED HAPPINESS

WRITTEN ON A GLOOMY DAY, IN SICKNESS.

PITY'S DESCENT TO EARTH,

ON THE DANGEROUS ILLNESS OF MY FRIEND MRS L.

TO THE FLOWER LOVE-IN-IDLENESS,

ON COLLINS'S ODE ON THE PASSIONS, AS RECITED BY MRS ESTEN.

LETTERS OF THE LOVERS.

II.

III.

ADDRESS TO MISS J. GALE

A PETITION TO APRIL.

AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MRS DACRE.

HOPE.

EPISTLE TO HER FRIENDS AT GARTMORE.

THE DESCENT OF PITY.

A CALL TO HOPE.

WRITTEN IN A CHURCHYARD,

AN EPISTLE

A CAUTION TO MISS B.

SONGS.

THE CHELSEA PENSIONERS.

NAY, NAY, CENSOR TIME.

THOUGH BACCHUS MAY BOAST.

IN THE DREAM OF THE MOMENT.

WHEN THE SUNBEAMS OF JOY.

FOR THE CARLISLE HUNT.

IN THAT EYE WHERE EXPRESSION.

IN THE SEARCH OF GOOD HUMOUR.

COME, MORTALS, ENLIVEN THE HOUR.

WHEN THE SOFT TEAR STEALS SILENTLY.

O WHERE IS THE SPLENDOUR.

O BID ME NOT TO WANDER.

WHAT AILS THIS HEART O' MINE?

I'VE GOTTEN A ROCK, I'VE GOTTEN A REEL.

WHEN HOME WE RETURN.

O WHY SHOULD MORTALS SUFFER CARE.

SONGS IN THE CUMBERLAND DIALECT.

THE TOILING DAY HIS TASK HAS DUIN.

WEY, NED, MAN!

THE CUMBERLAND SCOLD.

BARLEY BROTH.

THE MEETING.

WE'VE HED SEC A DURDUM.

AULD ROBIN FORBES.

MISCELLANEOUS SONGS.

THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.

AGAIN MAUN ABSENCE CHILL MY SOUL.

ON THE MARRIAGE OF MISS JOHANNA GALE

'TWAS WHEN THE SUN SLID DOWN YON HILL.

THE AULD CARLE WAD TAK ME FAIN.

I'M TIBBY FOWLER O' THE GLEN.

AE NIGHT IN DARK DECEMBER.

HAD MY DADDIE LEFT ME GEAR ENOUGH.

O JENNY DEAR.

DEAR NANCY.

O JENNY DEAR, THE WORD IS GANE.

O JENNY DEAR, I'VE COURTED LANG.

BEHOLD, MY AMANDA.

O THERE IS NOT A SHARPER DART.

I AM OF A TEMPER FIXED AS A DECREE.

WHEN SEVEREST FOES IMPENDING.

I'LL HAE A NEW COATIE.

O DINNA THINK, MY BONNIE LASS.

NOW SANDY MAUN AWA.

THE LOSS OF THE ROEBUCK.

A CURE FOR LOVE.

WHEN NIGHT'S DARK MANTLE.

O DONALD! YE ARE JUST THE MAN.

APPENDIX.

THE CARRIER PIGEON.

THE SAILOR LAD'S RETURN.

THE VILLAGE CLUB.

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240

O JENNY DEAR, I'VE COURTED LANG.

[_]

Air—Lucy Campbell.

O Jenny dear, I've courted lang,
I've telt my tale and sung my sang,
And yet I fear I'm i' the wrang,
For ye'll na mak a wedding o't.
In winter when the frost and snaw
Wi' bitter blast around wad blaw,
I'd o'er the moor, nor mind it a',
In hopes ye'd mak a wedding o't.
And gin ye smil'd or kindly spak,
It smooth'd the road, and help'd me back;
I thought nae answer I wad tak,
For we wad mak a wedding o't.

Now, when I gae to kirk or fair,
The laddies scoff, the lassies jeer;—
“Is this poor Jock?—the good be here!
For sure he's made a wedding o't.
What is become of a' his fun?
Alak! his joyfu' days are done;
Or else he's pawn'd his dancing shoon,
Sin he has made a wedding o't.
Sure marriage is a dreadfu' thing!
Ye mind 'tis only i' the spring
That little birdies chirp and sing,
Or, till they've made a wedding o't.”

241

Then up spak honest Johnny Bell:
“My bairns, I ance was young mysel;
I've mony a blithsome tale to tell
Sin first I made a wedding o't;
My Tibby was a winsome bride,—
Nay, yet she is her auld man's pride!
Nae faut i' her I ever spyed,
Sin first we made a wedding o't:
Ilk day we live we fonder grow,
Though buckl'd fifty years ago;
Here's comfort for ye, young ones a',
Then haste ye, mak a wedding o't.

University of Virginia Library

O JENNY DEAR, I'VE COURTED LANG.