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

A poem wrote without a Thought,
By Notes may to a Song be brought,
Tho Wit be scarce, low the Design,
And Numbers lame in ev'ry Line:
But when fair Christy this shall sing
In Consort with the trembling String,
O then the Poet's often prais'd,
For Charms so sweet a Voice hath rais'd.

MARY SCOT.

Happy's the love which meets Return,
When in soft Flames Souls equal burn;
But Words are wanting to discover
Torments of a hopeless Lover.
Ye Registers of Heav'n relate,
If looking o'er the Rolls of Fate,
Did you there see mark'd for my Marrow
Mary Scot the Flower of Yarrow.

Ah no! Her Form's too heavenly fair,
Her Love the Gods above must share,
While Mortals with Despair explore her,
And at Distance due adore her.

168

O lovely Maid! my Doubts beguile,
Revive and bless me with a Smile;
Alace! if not, you'll soon debar a
Sighing Swain the Banks of Yarrow.

Be hush ye Fears, I'll not despair,
My Mary's tender as she's fair;
Then I'll go tell her all mine Anguish;
She is too good to let me languish;
With Success crown'd I'll not envy
The Folks who dwell above the Sky,
When Mary Scot's become my Marrow,
We'll make a Paradice on Yarrow.

O'er BOGIE.

I will awa' wi my Love,
I will awa' wi' her,
Tho a' my Kin had sworn and said,
I'll o'er Bogie wi' her.
If I can get but her Consent,
I dinna care a Strae,
Tho ilka ane be discontent,
Awa' wi' her I'll gae.
I will awa', &c.

For now she's Mistress of my Heart,
And wordy of my Hand,
And well I wat we shanna part,
For Siller or for Land.
Let Rakes delyte to swear and drink,
And Beaus admire fine Lace,
But my chief Pleasure is to blink
On Betty's bonny Face.
I will awa', &c.

169

There a' the Beauties do combine
Of Colour, Treats and Air,
The Saul that sparkles in her Een
Makes her a Jewel rare;
Her flowing Wit gives shining Life
To a' her other Charms,
How blest I'll be when she's my Wife,
And lockt up in my Arms.
I will awa', &c.

There blythly will I rant and sing,
While o'er her Sweets I range,
I'll cry, Your humble Servant King,
Shamefa' them that wa'd change
A Kiss of Betty and a Smile,
Abeet ye wa'd lay down
The Right ye ha'e to Britain's Isle,
And offer me ye'r Crown.
I will awa', &c.

O'er the Moor to MAGGY.

And I'll o'er the Moor to Maggy,
Her Wit and Sweetness call me,
Then to my Fair I'll show my Mind,
Whatever may befal me.
If she love Mirth, I'll learn to sing,
Or likes the Nine to follow,
I'll lay my Lugs in Pindus' Spring,
And invocate Apollo.

If she admire a martial Mind,
I'll sheath my Limbs in Armour;
If to the softer Dance inclin'd,
With gayest Airs I'll charm her;

170

If she love Grandeur, Day and Night
I'll plot my Nations Glory.
Find Favour in my Prince's Sight,
And shine in future Story.

Beauty can Wonders work with Ease,
Where Wit is corresponding,
And bravest Men know best to please,
With Complaisance abounding.
My bonny Maggy's Love can turn
Me to what Shape she pleases,
If in her Breast that Flame shall burn
Which in my Bosom bleezes.

I'll never leave Thee.

JONNY.
Tho' for seven Years and mair Honour shou'd reave me,
To Fields where Cannons rair, thou need na grieve thee;
For deep in my Spirit thy Sweets are indented,
And love shall preserve ay what Love has imprinted.
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee,
Gang the World as it will, Dearest believe me.

NELLY.
O Jonny I'm jealous, when e'er ye discover
My Sentiments yielding, ye'll turn a loose Rover;
And nought i' the Warld wa'd vex my Heart sairer,
If you prove unconstant, and fancy ane fairer.
Grieve me, grieve me, Oh it wad grieve me!
A' the lang Night and Day, if you deceive me.

171

JONNY.
My Nelly let never sic Fancies oppress ye,
For while my Blood's warm I'll kindly caress ye,
Your blooming saft Beauties first beeted Love's Fire,
Your Virtue and Wit make it ay flame the hyer:
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee,
Gang the Warld as it will, Dearest believe me.

NELLY.
Then Jonny I frankly this Minute allow ye
To think me your Mistress, for Love gars me trow ye,
And gin ye prove fa'se, to ye'r sel be it said then,
Ye'll win but sma' Honour to wrang a kind Maiden.
Reave me, reave me, Heav'ns! it wad reave me,
Of my Rest Night and Day, if ye deceive me.

JONNY.
Bid Iceshogles hammer red Gauds on the Study,
And fair Simmer Mornings nae mair appear ruddy;
Bid Britons think ae Gate, and when they obey ye,
But never till that Time, believe I'll betray ye:
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee;
The Starns shall gang withershins e'er I deceive thee.

Polwart on the Green.

At Polwart on the Green
If you'll meet me the Morn,
Where Lasses de conveen
To dance about the Thorn;

172

A kindly Welcome you shall meet
Frae her wha likes to view
A Lover and a Lad complete,
The Lad and Lover you.

Let dorty Dames say Na,
As lang as e'er they please,
Seem caulder than the Sna',
While inwardly they bleeze;
But I will frankly shaw my Mind,
And yield my Heart to thee;
Be ever to the Captive kind,
That langs na to be free.

At Polwart on the Green,
Among the new mawn Hay,
With Sangs and Dancing keen
We'll pass the heartsome Day,
At Night if Beds be o'er thrang laid,
And thou be twin'd of thine,
Thou shalt be welcome, my dear Lad,
To take a Part of mine.

JOHN HAY'S Bonny Lassie.

By smooth winding Tay a Swain was reclining,
Aft cry'd he, Oh hey! Maun I still live pining
My sell thus away, and darna discover
To my bonny Hay that I am her Lover.

Nae mair it will hide, the Flame waxes stranger,
If she's not my Bride, my Days are nae langer;
Then I'll take a Heart, and try at a Venture,
May be e'er we part my Vows may content her.

173

She's fresh as the Spring, and sweet as Aurora,
When Birds mount and sing bidding Day a Good-morrow.
The Sward of the Mead enamel'd with Daisies,
Look wither'd and dead when twin'd of her Graces.

But if she appear where Verdures invite her,
The Fountains run clear, and Flowers smell the Sweeter,
'Tis Heav'n to be by, when her Wit is a flowing,
Her Smiles and bright Eye set my Spirits a glowing.

The mair that I gaze, the deeper I'm wounded,
Struck dumb with Amaze, my Mind is confounded;
I'm all in a Fire, dear Maid, to caress ye,
For a' my Desire is Hay's bonny Lassie.

Genty Tibby and Sonsy Nelly.

[_]

To the Tune of Tibby Fowler in the Glen.

Tibby has a Store of Charms,
Her genty Shape our Fancy warms,
How starkly can her sma' white Arms
Fetter the Lad wha looks but at her;
Frae Ancle to her slender Waste,
These Sweets conceal'd invite to dawt her,
Her rosie Cheek and rising Breast,
Gar ane's Mouth gush bowt fou' o' Water.

Nelly's gawsy, saft and gay,
Fresh as the lucken Flowers in May,
Ilk ane that sees her cries Ah hey!
She's bonny, O I wonder at her!

174

The Dimples of her Chin and Cheek,
And Limbs sae plump invite to dawt her,
Her Lips sae sweet, and Skin sae sleek,
Gar mony Mouths beside mine water.

Now strike my Finger in a Bore,
My Wyson with the Maiden shore,
Gin I can tell whilk I am for
When these twa Stars appear thegether.
O Love! Why dost thou gi'e thy Fires
Sae large? while we're oblig'd to nither
Our spacious Sauls immense Desires,
And ay be in a hankerin Swither.

Tibby's Shape and Airs are fine,
And Nelly's Beauties are divine;
But since they canna baith be mine,
Ye Gods give Ear to my Petition,
Provide a good Lad for the tane,
But let it be with this Provision,
I get the other to my lane,
In Prospect plano and Fruition.

Up in the Air.

Now the Sun's gane out o' Sight,
Beet the Ingle, and snuff the Light:
In Glens the Fairies skip and dance,
And Witches wallop o'er to France,
Up in the Air
On my bonny grey Mare.
And I see her yet, and I see her yet,
Up in, &c.

175

The Wind's drifting Hail and Sna'
O'er frozen Hags like a Foot Ba',
Nae Starns keek throw the Azure Slit,
'Tis cauld and mirk as ony Pit,
The Man i' the Moon
Is carowsing aboon,
D'ye see, d'ye see, d'ye see him yet.
The Man, &c.

Take your Glass to clear your Een,
'Tis the Elixir hales the Spleen,
Baith Wit and Mirth it will inspire,
And gently puffs the Lover's Fire,
Up in the Air,
It drives away Care,
Ha'e wi' ye, ha'e wi' ye, and ha'e wi' ye Lads yet,
Up in, &c.

Steek the Doors, keep out the Frost,
Come Willy gi'es about ye'r Tost,
Til't Lads, and lilt it out,
And let us ha'e a blythsom Bowt,
Up wi't there, there,
Dinna cheat, but drink fair,
Huzza, Huzza, and Huzza Lads yet,
Up wi't, &c.