The works of Allan Ramsay :: :: University of Virginia Library

The last Time I came o'er the Moor,
I left my Love behind me;
Ye Pow'rs! What Pain do I endure,
When soft Idea's mind me:
Soon as the ruddy Morn display'd
The beaming Day ensuing,
I met betimes my lovely Maid,
In fit Retreats for wooing.

Beneath the cooling Shade we lay,
Gazing and chastly sporting;
We kiss'd and promis'd Time away,
'Till Night spread her black Curtain.
I pitied all beneath the Skies,
Ev'n Kings, when she was nigh me;
In Raptures I beheld her Eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.

Shou'd I be call'd where Cannons rore,
Where mortal Steel may wound me,
Or cast upon some foreign Shore,
Where Dangers may surround me;

Yet hopes again to see my Love,
To feast on glowing Kisses,
Shall make my Cares at Distance move,
In Prospect of such Blisses.

In all my Soul there's not one Place
To let a Rival enter;
Since she excells in ev'ry Grace,
In her my Love shall center.
Sooner the Seas shall cease to flow,
Their Waves the Alps shall cover,
On Greenland Ice shall Roses grow,
Before I cease to love her.

The next Time I go o'er the Moor
She shall a Lover find me,
And that my Faith is firm and pure,
Tho I left her behind me:
Then Hymen's sacred Bonds shall chain
My Heart to her fair Bosom,
There, while my Being does remain,
My Love more fresh shall blossom.

The Lass of Peattie's Mill.

The Lass of Peattie's Mill,
So bonny, blyth and gay,
In spite of all my Skill,
She stole my Heart away.
When tedding of the Hay
Bare-headed on the Green,
Love 'midst her Locks did play,
And wanton'd in her Een.

Her Arms white, round and smooth,
Breasts rising in their Dawn,
To Age it wou'd give Youth,
To press 'em with his Hand.
Thro' all my Spirits ran
An Extasy of Bliss,
When I such Sweetness fand
Wrapt in a balmy Kiss.

Without the Help of Art,
Like Flowers which Grace the Wild,
She did her Sweets impart,
When e'er she spoke or smil'd.
Her Looks they were so mild,
Free from affected Pride,
She me to Love beguil'd;
I wish'd her for my Bride.

O had I all that Wealth
Hopeton's high Mountains fill,
Insur'd long Life and Health,
And Pleasure at my Will;
I'd promise and fulfill,
That none but bonny She,
The Lass of Peattie's Mill
Shou'd share the same wi' me.

Thirty three Miles South west of Edinburgh, where the Right Honourable the Earl of Hopeton's Mines of Gold and Lead are.

DELIA.

[_]

To the Tune of Green Sleeves.

Ye watchful Guardians of the Fair,
Who skiff on Wings of ambient Air,
Of my dear Delia take a Care,
And represent her Lover
With all the Gayety of Youth,
With Honour, Justice, Love and Truth,
Till I return, her Passions sooth
For me, in Whispers move her.

Be careful, no base sordid Slave,
With Soul sunk in a golden Grave,
Who knows no Virtue but to save,
With glaring Gold bewitch her.
Tell her for me she was design'd,
For me who know how to be kind,
And have more Plenty in my Mind,
Than one who's ten Times richer.

Let all the World turn upside down,
And Fools run an eternal Round,
In Quest of what can ne'er be found,
To please their vain Ambition.
Let little Minds great Charms espy
In Shadows which at Distance ly,
Whose hop'd for Pleasure when come nigh,
Prove nothing in Fruition.

But cast into a Mold Divine,
Fair Delia does with Lustre shine,
Her virtuous Soul's an ample Mine,
Which yeilds a constant Treasure.
Let Poets in sublimest Lays,
Imploy their Skill her Fame to raise;
Let Sons of Musick pass whole Days,
With well tun'd Reeds to please her.

The Yellow-hair'd Laddie.

In April when Primroses paint the sweet Plain,
And Summer approaching rejoiceth the Swain,
The Yellow-hair'd Laddie would oftentimes go
To Wilds and deep Glens where the Hawthorn-trees grow.

There under the Shade of an old sacred Thorn,
With Freedom he sung his Loves, Ev'ning and Morn;
He sang with so soft and inchanting a Sound,
That Silvans and Fairies unseen danc'd around.

The Shepherd thus sung, Tho young Maya be fair,
Her Beauty is dash'd with a scornful proud Air;
But Susie was handsome, and sweetly could sing,
Her Breath like the Breezes perfum'd in the Spring.

That Madie in all the gay Bloom of her Youth,
Like the Moon was unconstant, and never spoke Truth;
But Susie was faithful, good humour'd and free,
And fair as the Goddess who sprung from the Sea.

That Mamma's fine Daughter, with all her great Dowr,
Was aukwardly airy, and frequently sowr:
Then sighing, he wished, would Parents agree,
The witty sweet Susie his Mistress might be.

NANNYO.

While some for Pleasure pawn their Health,
'Twixt Lais and the Bagnio,
I'll save my self, and without Stealth,
Kiss and caress my Nanny—O.
She bids more fair t'ingage a Jove,
Than Leda did or Danae —O;
Were I to paint the Queen of Love,
None else shou'd sit but Nanny—O.

How joyfully my Spirits rise,
When dancing she moves finely—O,
I guess what Heav'n is by her Eyes,
Which sparkle so divinely O.
Attend my Vow, ye Gods, while I
Breath in the blest Britannio,
None's Happiness I shall envy,
As long's ye grant me Nanny—O.

CHORUS.

My bonny, bonny Nanny—O,
My loving charming Nanny—O,
I care not tho the world do know
How dearly I love Nanny—O.

A famous Corinthian Courtizan.

Two Beauties to whom Jove made Love; to one in the Figure of a Swan, to the other in a Golden Shower.

BONNY JEAN.

Love's Goddess in a Myrtle Grove
Said, Cupid, bend thy Bow with Speed,
Nor let the Shaft at Random rove,
For Jeanie's haughty Heart must bleed.
The smiling Boy, with divine Art,
From Paphos shot an Arrow keen,
Which flew unerring to the Heart,
And kill'd the Pride of bonny Jean.

No more the Nymph with haughty Air
Refuses Willie's kind Address;
Her yielding Blushes shew no Care,
But too much Fondness to suppress.
No more the Youth is sullen now,
But looks the gayest on the Green,
Whilst every Day he spies some new
Surprising Charms in bonny Jean.

A Thousand Transports crowd his Breast,
He moves as light as fleeting Wind,
His former Sorrows seem a Jest,
Now when his Jeanie is turn'd kind:
Riches he looks on with Disdain,
The glorious Fields of War look mean,
The chearful Hound and Horn give Pain,
If absent from his bonny Jean.

The Day he spends in am'rous Gaze,
Which even in Summer shorten'd seems:
When sunk in Downs with glad Amaze,
He wonders at her in his Dreams.

All Charms disclos'd, she looks more bright
Than Troy's fair Prize, the Spartan Queen:
With breaking Day he lifts his Sight,
And pants to be with bonny Jean.

The Kind Reception.

[_]

To the Tune of Auld Lang Syne.

Should auld Acquaintance be forgot,
Tho they return with Scars?
These are the noble Heroe's Lot,
Obtain'd in glorious Wars:
Welcome my Varo to my Breast,
Thy Arms about me twine,
And make me once again as blest,
As I was lang syne.

Methinks around us on each Bough,
A Thousand Cupids play,
Whilst thro' the Groves I walk with you,
Each Object makes me gay.
Since your Return the Sun and Moon
With brighter Beams do shine,
Streams murmur soft Notes while they run,
As they did lang syne.

Despise the Court and Din of State,
Let that to their Share fall;
Who can esteem such Slav'ry great,
While bounded like a Ball?
But sunk in Love, upon my Arms
Let your brave Head recline,
We'll please our selves with mutual Charms,
As we did lang syne.

O'er Moor and Dale with your gay Friend
You may pursue the Chace;
And after a blyth Bottle end
All Cares in my Embrace:
And in a vacant rainy Day
You shall be wholly mine;
We'll make the Hours run smooth away,
And laugh at lang syne.

The Heroe pleas'd with the sweet Air,
And Signs of gen'rous Love,
Which had been utter'd by the Fair,
Bow'd to the Pow'rs above:
Next Day with Consent and glad Haste
Th'approach'd the sacred Shrine,
Where the good Priest the Couple blest,
And put them out of Pine.

The PENITENT.

[_]

To the Tune of the Lass of Livingston.

Pain'd with her slighting Jamie's Love,
Bell dropt a Tear,—Bell dropt a Tear,
The Gods descended from above,
Well pleas'd to hear,—Well pleas'd to hear.
They heard the Praises of the Youth
From her own Tongue,—From her own Tongue,
Who now converted was to Truth,
And thus she sung,—and thus she sung,

Blest Days when our ingen'ous Sex,
More frank and kind,—More frank and kind,
Did not their lov'd Adorers vex,
But spoke their Mind,—But spoke their Mind.
Repenting now she promis'd fair,
Wou'd he return,—Wou'd he return,
She ne'er again wou'd give him Care,
Or Cause to mourn,—Or Cause to mourn.

Why lov'd I the deserving Swain,
Yet still thought Shame,—Yet still thought Shame,
When he my yielding Heart did gain,
To own my Flame,—To own my Flame?
Why took I Pleasure to torment,
And seem too coy,—And seem too coy?
Which makes me now, alas! lament
My slighted Joy,—My slighted Joy.

Ye Fair, while Beauty's in its Spring,
Own your Desire,—Own your Desire;
While Love's young Power with his soft Wing
Fans up the Fire,—Fans up the Fire.
O do not with a silly Pride,
Or low Design,—Or low Design,
Refuse to be a happy Bride,
But answer plain,—But answer plain.

Thus the fair Mourner wail'd her Crime,
With flowing Eyes,—With flowing Eyes;
Glad Jamie heard her all the Time,
With sweet Surprise,—With sweet Surprise,
Some God had led him to the Grove,
His Mind unchang'd,—His Mind unchang'd,
Flew to her Arms, and cry'd, My Love,
I am reveng'd,—I am reveng'd!

LOVE'S CURE.

[_]

To the Tune of Peggy I must Love Thee.

As from a Rock past all Relief,
The Shipwreckt Colin spying
His native Home, o'ercome with Grief,
Half sunk in Waves and dying;
With the next Morning Sun he spies
A Ship, which gives unhop'd Surprise,
New Life springs up, he lifts his Eyes
With Joy, and waits her Motion.

So when by her whom long I lov'd,
I scorn'd was and deserted,
Low with Despair my Spirits mov'd,
To be for ever parted:
Thus droopt I, till diviner Grace
I found in Peggy's Mind and Face;
Ingratitude appear'd then base,
But Virtue more engaging.

Then now since happily I've hit,
I'll have no more delaying,
Let Beauty yield to manly Wit,
We lose our selves in staying;
I'll haste dull Courtship to a Close,
Since Marriage can my Fears oppose,
Why should we happy Minutes lose,
Since Peggy I must love thee?

Men may be foolish, if they please,
And deem't a Lover's Duty,
To sigh, and sacrifice their Ease,
Doating on a proud Beauty:

Such was my Case for many a Year,
Still Hope succeeding to my Fear.
False Betty's Charms now disappear,
Since Peggy's far outshine them.

ODE.

[Hence every Thing that can]

Hence every Thing that can
Disturb the Quiet of Man:
Be blyth my Soul,
In a full Bowl
Drown thy Care.
And repair
The vital Stream:
Since Life's a Dream.
Let Wine abound,
And Healths go round.
We'll sleep more sound:
And let the dull unthinking Mob pursue
Each endless Wish, and still their Toll renew.

Bessy Bell and Mary Gray.

O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray
They are twa bonny Lasses,
They bigg'd a Bower on yon Burn-brae
And theek'd it o'er wi' Rashes.

Fair Bessy Bell I loo'd yestreen,
And thought I ne'er cou'd alter;
But Mary Gray's twa pawky Een,
They gar my Fancy falter.

Now Bessy's Hair's like a Lint Tap,
She smiles like a May Morning,
When Phœbus starts frae Thetis' Lap,
The Hills with Rays adorning:
White is her Neck, saft is her Hand,
Her Waste and Feet's fow genty,
With ilka Grace she can command,
Her Lips, O wow! they're dainty.

And Mary's Locks are like the Craw,
Her Eye like Diamonds glances;
She's ay sae clean, red-up and braw,
She kills when e'er she dances:
Blyth as a Kid, with Wit at Will,
She blooming tight and tall is;
And guides her Airs sae gracefou still,
O Jove! she's like thy Pallas.

Dear Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
Ye unco' sair oppress us,
Our Fancies jee between you twae,
Ye are sic bonny Lasses:
Wae's me, for baith I canna get,
To ane by Law we're stented;
Then I'll draw Cuts and take my Fate,
And be with ane contented.

The Young LAIRD and Edinburgh KATY.

Now wat ye wha I met Yestreen
Coming down the Street, my Jo,
My Mistress in her Tartan Screen,
Fou bonny, braw and sweet, my Jo.
My Dear, quoth I, Thanks to the Night
That never wisht a Lover ill;
Since ye're out of your Mither's Sight,
Let's take a Wauk up to the Hill.

O Katy wiltu gang wi' me,
And leave the dinsom Town a while,
The Blossom's sprouting frae the Tree,
And a' the Summer's gawn to smile;
The Mavis, Nightingale and Lark,
The bleeting Lambs and whistling Hynd,
In ilka Dale, Green, Shaw and Park,
Will nourish Health and glad ye'r Mind.

Soon as the clear Goodman of Day
Does bend his Morning Draught of Dew,
We'll gae to some Burn-side and play,
And gather Flowers to busk ye'r Brow.
We'll pou the Daizies on the Green,
The lucken Gowans frae the Bog;
Between Hands now and then we'll lean,
And sport upo' the Velvet Fog.

There's up into a pleasant Glen,
A wee Piece frae my Father's Tower,
A canny, saft and flowry Den,
Which circling Birks has form'd a Bower:

When e'er the Sun grows high and warm,
We'll to the cauller Shade remove,
There will I lock thee in mine Arm,
And love and kiss, and kiss and love.

The Castle-hill, where young People frequently take the Air on an Evening.

KATY'S ANSWER.

My Mither's ay glowran o'er me,
Tho she did the same before me,
I canna get Leave
To look to my Loove,
Or else she'll be like to devour me.

Right fain wad I take ye'r Offer,
Sweet Sir, but I'll tine my Tocher,
Then Sandy ye'll fret,
And wyt ye'r poor Kate,
When e'er ye keek in your toom Coffer.

For tho my Father has Plenty
Of Siller and Plenishing dainty,
Yet he's unco sweer
To twin wi' his Gear;
And sae we had need to be tenty.

Tutor my Parents wi' Caution,
Be wylie in ilka Motion;
Brag well o' ye'r Land,
And there's my leal Hand,
Win them, I'll be at your Devotion.