The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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| 2. | CLASS SECOND—LOVE SONGS. |
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
CLASS SECOND—LOVE SONGS.
My Blythe and Bonnie Lassie.
How sair my heart nae man shall ken
When I took leave o' yonder glen,
Her faithful dames, her honest men,
Her streams sae pure an' glassy, O:
Her woods that skirt the verdant vale,
Her balmy breeze sae brisk an' hale,
Her flower of every flower the wale,
My blythe an' bonnie lassie, O!
When I took leave o' yonder glen,
Her faithful dames, her honest men,
Her streams sae pure an' glassy, O:
Her woods that skirt the verdant vale,
Her balmy breeze sae brisk an' hale,
Her flower of every flower the wale,
My blythe an' bonnie lassie, O!
The night was short, the day was lang,
An' aye we sat the birks amang,
Till o'er my head the blackbird sang,
“Gae part wi' that dear lassie, O.”
When on Lamgaro's top sae green
The rising sun-beam red was seen,
Wi' aching heart I left my Jean,
My blythe an' bonnie lassie, O.
An' aye we sat the birks amang,
Till o'er my head the blackbird sang,
“Gae part wi' that dear lassie, O.”
When on Lamgaro's top sae green
The rising sun-beam red was seen,
Wi' aching heart I left my Jean,
My blythe an' bonnie lassie, O.
Her form is gracefu' as the pine;
Her smile the sunshine after rain;
Her nature cheerfu', frank, an' kind,
An' neither proud nor saucy, O.
The ripest cherry on the tree
Was ne'er sae pure or meek to see,
Nor half sae sweet its juice to me,
As a kiss o' my dear lassie, O.
Her smile the sunshine after rain;
Her nature cheerfu', frank, an' kind,
An' neither proud nor saucy, O.
The ripest cherry on the tree
Was ne'er sae pure or meek to see,
Nor half sae sweet its juice to me,
As a kiss o' my dear lassie, O.
Whate'er I do, where'er I be,
Yon glen shall aye be dear to me;
Her banks an' howms sae fair to see;
Her braes sae green an' grassy, O:
For there my hopes are centred a';
An' there my heart was stown awa;
An' there my Jeanie first I saw,
My blythe an' bonnie lassie, O!
Yon glen shall aye be dear to me;
Her banks an' howms sae fair to see;
Her braes sae green an' grassy, O:
268
An' there my heart was stown awa;
An' there my Jeanie first I saw,
My blythe an' bonnie lassie, O!
Bonnie Mary.
Where Yarrow rows amang the rocks,
An' wheels an' boils in mony a linn,
A brisk young shepherd fed his flocks,
Unused to wranglement or din.
But love its silken net had thrown
Around his breast, so brisk an' airy;
An' his blue eyes wi' moisture shone.
As thus he sung of bonnie Mary.
An' wheels an' boils in mony a linn,
A brisk young shepherd fed his flocks,
Unused to wranglement or din.
But love its silken net had thrown
Around his breast, so brisk an' airy;
An' his blue eyes wi' moisture shone.
As thus he sung of bonnie Mary.
“O Mary, thou'rt sae mild and sweet,
My very being clings about thee;
This heart would rather cease to beat,
Than beat a lonely thing without thee.
I see thee in the evening beam—
A radiant, glorious apparition;
I see thee in the midnight dream,
By the dim light of heavenly vision.
My very being clings about thee;
This heart would rather cease to beat,
Than beat a lonely thing without thee.
I see thee in the evening beam—
A radiant, glorious apparition;
I see thee in the midnight dream,
By the dim light of heavenly vision.
“When over Benger's haughty head
The morning breaks in streaks sae bonnie,
I climb the mountain's velvet side,
For quiet rest I getna ony.
How dear the lair on yon hill cheek,
Where mony a weary hour I tarry!
For there I see the twisting reek
Rise frae the cot where dwells my Mary.
The morning breaks in streaks sae bonnie,
I climb the mountain's velvet side,
For quiet rest I getna ony.
How dear the lair on yon hill cheek,
Where mony a weary hour I tarry!
For there I see the twisting reek
Rise frae the cot where dwells my Mary.
“When Phœbus keeks out-o'er the muir,
His gowden locks a' streaming gaily;
When morn has breathed her fragrance pure,
An' life an' joy ring through the valley;
I drive my flocks to yonder brook,
The feeble in my arms I carry;
Then every lammie's harmless look
Brings to my mind my bonnie Mary.
His gowden locks a' streaming gaily;
When morn has breathed her fragrance pure,
An' life an' joy ring through the valley;
I drive my flocks to yonder brook,
The feeble in my arms I carry;
Then every lammie's harmless look
Brings to my mind my bonnie Mary.
“Oft has the lark sung o'er my head,
An' shook the dew-drops frae his wing;
Oft hae my flocks forgot to feed,
An' round their shepherd form'd a ring.
Their looks condole the lee-lang day,
While mine are fix'd and never vary,
Aye turning down the westlin' brae,
Where dwells my loved, my bonnie Mary.
An' shook the dew-drops frae his wing;
Oft hae my flocks forgot to feed,
An' round their shepherd form'd a ring.
Their looks condole the lee-lang day,
While mine are fix'd and never vary,
Aye turning down the westlin' brae,
Where dwells my loved, my bonnie Mary.
“When gloaming, creeping west the lift,
Wraps in deep shadow dell and dingle,
An' lads an' lasses mak a shift
To raise some fun around the ingle;
Regardless o' the wind or rain
With cautious step and prospect wary,
I often trace the lonely glen
To steal a sight o' bonnie Mary.
Wraps in deep shadow dell and dingle,
An' lads an' lasses mak a shift
To raise some fun around the ingle;
Regardless o' the wind or rain
With cautious step and prospect wary,
I often trace the lonely glen
To steal a sight o' bonnie Mary.
“When midnight draws her curtain deep,
An' lays the breeze amang the bushes;
An' Yarrow in her sounding sweep,
By rock and ruin raves and rushes;
Though sunk in deep and quiet sleep,
My fancy wings her flight so airy,
To where sweet guardian spirits keep
Their watch around the couch of Mary.
An' lays the breeze amang the bushes;
An' Yarrow in her sounding sweep,
By rock and ruin raves and rushes;
Though sunk in deep and quiet sleep,
My fancy wings her flight so airy,
To where sweet guardian spirits keep
Their watch around the couch of Mary.
“The exile may forget his home,
Where blooming youth to manhood grew;
The bee forget the honey-comb,
Nor with the spring his toil renew:
The sun may lose his light and heat,
The planets in their rounds miscarry;
But my fond heart shall cease to beat,
When I forget my bonnie Mary.”
Where blooming youth to manhood grew;
The bee forget the honey-comb,
Nor with the spring his toil renew:
The sun may lose his light and heat,
The planets in their rounds miscarry;
But my fond heart shall cease to beat,
When I forget my bonnie Mary.”
The Braes of Bushby.
Ae glenting cheerfu' simmer morn,
As I cam o'er the rigs o' Lorn,
I heard a lassie all forlorn
Lamenting for her Johnnie, O.
Her wild notes poured the air alang;
The Highland rocks an' woodlands rang,
An' aye the o'erword o' her sang
Was “Bushby braes are bonnie, O.
As I cam o'er the rigs o' Lorn,
I heard a lassie all forlorn
Lamenting for her Johnnie, O.
Her wild notes poured the air alang;
The Highland rocks an' woodlands rang,
An' aye the o'erword o' her sang
Was “Bushby braes are bonnie, O.
“On Bushby braes where blossoms blow,
Where bloom the brier an' sulky sloe,
There first I met my only joe,
My dear, my faithfu' Johnnie, O.
The grove was dark, sae dark an' sweet,
Where first my lad an' I did meet;
The roses blushed around our feet;
Then Bushby braes were bonnie, O.
Where bloom the brier an' sulky sloe,
There first I met my only joe,
My dear, my faithfu' Johnnie, O.
The grove was dark, sae dark an' sweet,
Where first my lad an' I did meet;
The roses blushed around our feet;
Then Bushby braes were bonnie, O.
“Departed joys, how soft, how dear,
That frae my e'e still wring the tear!
Yet still the hope my heart shall cheer
Again to meet my Johnnie, O.
The primrose saw, an' blue hare-bell,
But nane o' them our love can tell;
The thrilling joy I felt too well
When Bushby braes were bonnie, O.
That frae my e'e still wring the tear!
Yet still the hope my heart shall cheer
Again to meet my Johnnie, O.
The primrose saw, an' blue hare-bell,
But nane o' them our love can tell;
The thrilling joy I felt too well
When Bushby braes were bonnie, O.
“My lad is to the Baltic gane,
To fight the proud an' doubtfu' Dane:
For our success my heart is fain;
But 'tis maistly for my Johnnie, O.
Then, Cupid, smooth the German Sea,
An' bear him back to Lorn an' me!
An' a' my life I'll sing wi' glee,
The Bushby braes are bonnie, O.”
To fight the proud an' doubtfu' Dane:
For our success my heart is fain;
But 'tis maistly for my Johnnie, O.
Then, Cupid, smooth the German Sea,
An' bear him back to Lorn an' me!
An' a' my life I'll sing wi' glee,
The Bushby braes are bonnie, O.”
Blythe an' Cheerie.
On Ettrick clear there grows a brier,
An' mony a bonnie blooming shaw;
But Peggie's grown the fairest flower
The braes o' Ettrick ever saw.
Her cheek is like the woodland rose;
Her e'e the violet set wi' dew;
The lily's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
An' mony a bonnie blooming shaw;
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The braes o' Ettrick ever saw.
Her cheek is like the woodland rose;
Her e'e the violet set wi' dew;
The lily's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
Had I as muckle gowd an' gear
As I could lift unto my knee,
Nae ither lass but Peggie dear
Should ever be a bride to me.
Oh she's blithe, an' oh she's cheerie,
Oh she's bonnie, frank, an' free!
The sternies bright, nae dewy night,
Could ever beam like Peggie's e'e.
As I could lift unto my knee,
Nae ither lass but Peggie dear
Should ever be a bride to me.
Oh she's blithe, an' oh she's cheerie,
Oh she's bonnie, frank, an' free!
The sternies bright, nae dewy night,
Could ever beam like Peggie's e'e.
Had I her hame at my wee house,
That stands aneath yon mountain high,
To help me wi' the kye an' ewes,
An' in my arms at e'ening lie;
Oh sae blithe, an' oh sae cheerie,
Oh sae happy we wad be!
The lammie to the ewe is dear,
But Peggie's dearer far to me.
That stands aneath yon mountain high,
To help me wi' the kye an' ewes,
An' in my arms at e'ening lie;
Oh sae blithe, an' oh sae cheerie,
Oh sae happy we wad be!
The lammie to the ewe is dear,
But Peggie's dearer far to me.
But I may sigh and stand abeigh,
An' greet till I tine baith my een;
Though Peggie's smile my heart beguiles,
She disna mind my love a preen.
Oh I'm sad, an' oh I'm sorry!
Sad an' sorry may I be;
I may be sick an' very sick,
But I'll be desperate sweer to dee.
An' greet till I tine baith my een;
Though Peggie's smile my heart beguiles,
She disna mind my love a preen.
Oh I'm sad, an' oh I'm sorry!
Sad an' sorry may I be;
I may be sick an' very sick,
But I'll be desperate sweer to dee.
To Miss Jane S---f.
I wasna sae soon to my bed yestreen;
What ail'd me I never could close an e'e?
Was't Chalmers's sherry that thrill'd ilka vein,
Or glamour yon gipsy has thrown upon me?
I'm certain twa een as bright I hae seen;
An' every perfection in every degree;
Can naebody sing like Jeanie yestreen,
That sleep's sae completely departed frae me?
What ail'd me I never could close an e'e?
Was't Chalmers's sherry that thrill'd ilka vein,
Or glamour yon gipsy has thrown upon me?
I'm certain twa een as bright I hae seen;
An' every perfection in every degree;
Can naebody sing like Jeanie yestreen,
That sleep's sae completely departed frae me?
It isna her een, where modesty beams,
Where sense an' guid nature apparent we see;
'Tis her sweet cherry lips, and her delicate form,
Have left an impression where it shouldna be.
No, that's not the thing: 'tis an elegant ease
Attending ilk action, though ever sae wee;
An' her sweet heavenly voice, sae to melody tuned,
It will ring in my lugs till the day that I dee.
Where sense an' guid nature apparent we see;
'Tis her sweet cherry lips, and her delicate form,
Have left an impression where it shouldna be.
No, that's not the thing: 'tis an elegant ease
Attending ilk action, though ever sae wee;
An' her sweet heavenly voice, sae to melody tuned,
It will ring in my lugs till the day that I dee.
It isna her een sae bonnie and blue,
Nor nae single beauty astonishes me;
But the hale o' the lassie arises to view,
As a model what womankind really may be.
Your love in a present I wadna' receive,
It wad mar sic a pure an' agreeable dream;
But only, if you think it prudent to give,
A shepherd, dear Jeanie, intreats your esteem.
Nor nae single beauty astonishes me;
But the hale o' the lassie arises to view,
As a model what womankind really may be.
Your love in a present I wadna' receive,
It wad mar sic a pure an' agreeable dream;
But only, if you think it prudent to give,
A shepherd, dear Jeanie, intreats your esteem.
The Bonnie Lass of Deloraine.
Still must my pipe lie idle by,
And worldly cares my mind annoy?
Again its softest notes I'll try,
So dear a theme can never cloy.
Last time my mountain harp I strung,
'Twas she inspired the simple strain—
That lovely flower so sweet and young,
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
And worldly cares my mind annoy?
Again its softest notes I'll try,
So dear a theme can never cloy.
Last time my mountain harp I strung,
'Twas she inspired the simple strain—
That lovely flower so sweet and young,
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
How blest the breeze's balmy sighs
Around her ruddy lips that blow:
The flower that in her bosom dies;
Or grass that bends beneath her toe.
Her cheek's endowed with powers at will
The rose's richest shade to drain;
Her eyes, what soft enchantments fill!
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
Around her ruddy lips that blow:
The flower that in her bosom dies;
Or grass that bends beneath her toe.
Her cheek's endowed with powers at will
The rose's richest shade to drain;
Her eyes, what soft enchantments fill!
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
Let Athol boast her birchen bowers,
And Lomond of her isles so green;
And Windermere her woodland shores;
Our Ettrick boasts a sweeter scene:
For there the evening twilight swells
With many a wild and melting strain;
And there the pride of beauty dwells,
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
And Lomond of her isles so green;
And Windermere her woodland shores;
Our Ettrick boasts a sweeter scene:
For there the evening twilight swells
With many a wild and melting strain;
And there the pride of beauty dwells,
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
If Heaven shall keep her aye as good
And bonnie as she wont to be,
The world may into Ettrick crowd,
And nature's first perfection see.
Glencoe has drawn the wanderer's eye,
And Staffa in the western main;
These natural wonders ne'er can vie
Wi' the bonnie lass of Deloraine.
And bonnie as she wont to be,
The world may into Ettrick crowd,
And nature's first perfection see.
Glencoe has drawn the wanderer's eye,
And Staffa in the western main;
These natural wonders ne'er can vie
Wi' the bonnie lass of Deloraine.
May health still cheer her beauteous face,
And round her brow may honour twine;
And Heaven preserve that breast in peace,
Where meekness, love, and duty join!
But all her joys shall cheer my heart,
And all her griefs shall give me pain;
For never from my soul shall part
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
And round her brow may honour twine;
And Heaven preserve that breast in peace,
Where meekness, love, and duty join!
But all her joys shall cheer my heart,
And all her griefs shall give me pain;
For never from my soul shall part
The bonnie lass of Deloraine.
I hae lost my Jeanie, O.
Oh, I hae seen when fields were green,
An' birds sae blithe an' cheerie, O,
How swift the day would pass away
When I was wi' my dearie, O.
My heart's now sair, my elbows bare,
My pouch without a guinea, O;
I'll never taste o' pleasure mair,
Since I hae lost my Jeanie, O.
An' birds sae blithe an' cheerie, O,
270
When I was wi' my dearie, O.
My heart's now sair, my elbows bare,
My pouch without a guinea, O;
I'll never taste o' pleasure mair,
Since I hae lost my Jeanie, O.
O fortune, thou hast used me ill,
Far waur than my deserving, O;
Thrice o'er the crown thou'st knocked me down,
An' left me hauflins starving, O:
Thy roughest blast has blawn the last,
My lass has used me meanly, O;
Thy keenest dart has pierced my heart,
An' ta'en frae me my Jeanie, O.
Far waur than my deserving, O;
Thrice o'er the crown thou'st knocked me down,
An' left me hauflins starving, O:
Thy roughest blast has blawn the last,
My lass has used me meanly, O;
Thy keenest dart has pierced my heart,
An' ta'en frae me my Jeanie, O.
I'll nae mair strive, while I'm alive,
For aught but missing slavery, O;
This world's a stage, a pilgrimage,
A mass o' guilt an' knavery, O:
If fickle fame but save my name,
An' frae oblivion screen me, O;
Then farewell fortune, farewell love,
An' farewell, bonnie Jeanie, O!
For aught but missing slavery, O;
This world's a stage, a pilgrimage,
A mass o' guilt an' knavery, O:
If fickle fame but save my name,
An' frae oblivion screen me, O;
Then farewell fortune, farewell love,
An' farewell, bonnie Jeanie, O!
Here, fix'd by choice.
Here, fix'd by choice, too long I staid
Beside the lovely Flora;
Too fond to see the charming maid,
The cause of all my sorrow.
The rising sun each morning saw
My passion fast augmenting,
Till she with Campbell cross'd the main,
And left her love lamenting.
Beside the lovely Flora;
Too fond to see the charming maid,
The cause of all my sorrow.
The rising sun each morning saw
My passion fast augmenting,
Till she with Campbell cross'd the main,
And left her love lamenting.
No curses on her head I'll crave;
My blessing still attend her;
Whene'er I offer up my vows,
My dear I'll aye remember.
Though mountains rise, and rivers roll,
And oceans rage between us,
If death me spare, I'll search for her
Through all the Carolinas.
My blessing still attend her;
Whene'er I offer up my vows,
My dear I'll aye remember.
Though mountains rise, and rivers roll,
And oceans rage between us,
If death me spare, I'll search for her
Through all the Carolinas.
Nor absence, time, nor balmy rest,
Nor grief, nor tears, can ease me;
I feel the time approaching fast
When a clay-cold bed will please me.
Then rest my head upon yon hill,
Where blows the blooming heather;
There first at Flora's feet I fell;
There oft we sat together.
Nor grief, nor tears, can ease me;
I feel the time approaching fast
When a clay-cold bed will please me.
Then rest my head upon yon hill,
Where blows the blooming heather;
There first at Flora's feet I fell;
There oft we sat together.
How happy would my charmer seem!
How sorry when I left her!
I would not then have chang'd my seat
With him that sway'd the sceptre.
My prospect glow'd with fairest flowers,
From bliss no bounds to bar me;
Now dismal shades and dreary shores
With rueful murmurs scare me.
How sorry when I left her!
I would not then have chang'd my seat
With him that sway'd the sceptre.
My prospect glow'd with fairest flowers,
From bliss no bounds to bar me;
Now dismal shades and dreary shores
With rueful murmurs scare me.
There was a time no more I'll see,
I spent in mirth and ranging;
There was a time when I was gay,
But times are always changing.
The times shall change, and moons shall wane,
Yet I in love still languish;
My tender heart must break in twain,
Since nought can ease mine anguish.
I spent in mirth and ranging;
There was a time when I was gay,
But times are always changing.
The times shall change, and moons shall wane,
Yet I in love still languish;
My tender heart must break in twain,
Since nought can ease mine anguish.
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie.
“O what maks you sae dowie, lassie?
What maks you sae cheerless?
For wit, an' fun, an' harmless glee,
My Peggy aye was peerless.
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye've lost a frien', or catch'd the spleen,
Or for some lad thought lang, Peggy.”
What maks you sae cheerless?
For wit, an' fun, an' harmless glee,
My Peggy aye was peerless.
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye've lost a frien', or catch'd the spleen,
Or for some lad thought lang, Peggy.”
“Yes, I hae catch'd a weary spleen
Has banish'd a' my mirth, Jamie;
An' I hae lost the dearest frien'
That e'er I ken'd on earth, Jamie.
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie,
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie,
For I've lien in an unco bed,
Ayont an' unco man, Jamie.”
Has banish'd a' my mirth, Jamie;
An' I hae lost the dearest frien'
That e'er I ken'd on earth, Jamie.
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie,
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie,
For I've lien in an unco bed,
Ayont an' unco man, Jamie.”
“Ah, wae's my heart for what ye've done!
Ye canna hide it lang, Peggy;
How could ye use your love sae ill?
Ye have done a' wrang, Peggy.
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye promis'd aft to marry me,
An' aye ere it was lang, Peggy.
Ye canna hide it lang, Peggy;
How could ye use your love sae ill?
Ye have done a' wrang, Peggy.
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye promis'd aft to marry me,
An' aye ere it was lang, Peggy.
“I'm unco wae to tak my leave;
But that's the thing maun be, Peggy:
I'll never like a lass sae weel,
Sin' I hae done wi' thee, Peggy.
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye promis'd aft to marry me,
An' aye ere it was lang, Peggy.”
But that's the thing maun be, Peggy:
I'll never like a lass sae weel,
Sin' I hae done wi' thee, Peggy.
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
Ye promis'd aft to marry me,
An' aye ere it was lang, Peggy.”
“I weel deserve my hapless lot,
Ye war sae kind an' true, Jamie;
My broken heart will ne'er forget
How I've misused you, Jamie.
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie,
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie;
For I've lien in an unco bed,
Ayont an unco man, Jamie.”
Ye war sae kind an' true, Jamie;
My broken heart will ne'er forget
How I've misused you, Jamie.
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie,
I'm gane a' wrang, Jamie;
For I've lien in an unco bed,
Ayont an unco man, Jamie.”
“My dear, I ken ye've done amiss;
But blame was far frae thee, Peggy:
I'll tell you what will gar you blush,—
The unco man was me, Peggy.
We've done a' wrang, Peggy,
We've done a' wrang, Peggy;
We'll do the best that now remains,
An' wed ere it be lang, Peggy.”
But blame was far frae thee, Peggy:
I'll tell you what will gar you blush,—
The unco man was me, Peggy.
271
We've done a' wrang, Peggy;
We'll do the best that now remains,
An' wed ere it be lang, Peggy.”
The Hay-makers.
“My lassie, how I'm charm'd wi' you
'Tis needless now to tell;
But a' the flowers the meadow through,
Ye're sweetest aye yoursel':
I canna sleep a wink by night,
Nor think a thought by day;
Your image smiles afore my sight
Whate'er I do or say.”
'Tis needless now to tell;
But a' the flowers the meadow through,
Ye're sweetest aye yoursel':
I canna sleep a wink by night,
Nor think a thought by day;
Your image smiles afore my sight
Whate'er I do or say.”
“Fye, Jamie! dinna act the part
Ye'll ever blush to own;
Or try to wile my youthfu' heart
Frae reason's sober throne:
Sic visions I can ne'er approve,
Nor ony wakin' dream;
Than trust sic fiery furious love,
I'd rather hae esteem.”
Ye'll ever blush to own;
Or try to wile my youthfu' heart
Frae reason's sober throne:
Sic visions I can ne'er approve,
Nor ony wakin' dream;
Than trust sic fiery furious love,
I'd rather hae esteem.”
“My bonny lassie, come away,
I canna bide your frown;
Wi' ilka flower sae fresh an' gay,
I'll deck your bosom round;
I'll pu' the gowan off the glen,
The lily off the lea;
The rose and hawthorn bud I'll twine
To make a bob for thee.”
I canna bide your frown;
Wi' ilka flower sae fresh an' gay,
I'll deck your bosom round;
I'll pu' the gowan off the glen,
The lily off the lea;
The rose and hawthorn bud I'll twine
To make a bob for thee.”
“Aye, Jamie, ye wad steal my heart,
An' a' my peace frae me;
An' fix my feet within the net,
Ere I my error see.
I trow ye'll wale the flowery race
My bosom to adorn:
An' ye confess ye're gaun to place
Within my breast a thorn.”
An' a' my peace frae me;
An' fix my feet within the net,
Ere I my error see.
I trow ye'll wale the flowery race
My bosom to adorn:
An' ye confess ye're gaun to place
Within my breast a thorn.”
“How can my lassie be sae tart,
An' vex me a' the day?
Ye ken I lo'e wi' a' my heart,
What wad ye hae me say?
Ilk anxious wish an' little care
I'll in thy breast confide,
An' a' your joys and sorrows share
If ye'll become my bride.”
An' vex me a' the day?
Ye ken I lo'e wi' a' my heart,
What wad ye hae me say?
Ilk anxious wish an' little care
I'll in thy breast confide,
An' a' your joys and sorrows share
If ye'll become my bride.”
“Then tak my hand, ye hae my heart;
There's nane I like sae weel;
An' Heaven grant I act my part
To ane sae true an' leal.
This bonnie day amang the hay,
I'll mind till death us twine;
An' often bless the happy day
That made my laddie mine.”
There's nane I like sae weel;
An' Heaven grant I act my part
To ane sae true an' leal.
This bonnie day amang the hay,
I'll mind till death us twine;
An' often bless the happy day
That made my laddie mine.”
The Bogles.
My bonnie Eliza is fled frae the town,
An' left her poor Jamie her loss to bemoan;
To me 'tis a sad and lamentable day;
For the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
The Lowlands may weep, and the Highlands may smile,
In welcome to her that's the flower of our isle:
It's all for thy honour, ambitious Tay,
That the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
An' left her poor Jamie her loss to bemoan;
To me 'tis a sad and lamentable day;
For the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
The Lowlands may weep, and the Highlands may smile,
In welcome to her that's the flower of our isle:
It's all for thy honour, ambitious Tay,
That the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
There's ae bitter thought has gi'en me muckle pain,
I fear I will never behold her again;
I canna get quit o't, by night nor by day,
Since the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
Oh, sweet may the breeze be her mountains between!
And sweet be her walks through her woodlands so green!
And sweet be the murmurs of fair winding Tay,
Since the bogles have chased my Eliza away!
I fear I will never behold her again;
I canna get quit o't, by night nor by day,
Since the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
Oh, sweet may the breeze be her mountains between!
And sweet be her walks through her woodlands so green!
And sweet be the murmurs of fair winding Tay,
Since the bogles have chased my Eliza away!
I love her; I own it; I'll own it again;
If I had two friends on the earth, she was ane;
And now I can neither be cheerfu' nor gay,
Since the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
May Heaven in kindness long shelter my flower,
So admir'd by the rich, and belov'd by the poor!
Whose blessing will cheer her sweet bosom for aye,
Nor fairy nor bogle will chase it away.
If I had two friends on the earth, she was ane;
And now I can neither be cheerfu' nor gay,
Since the bogles have chas'd my Eliza away.
May Heaven in kindness long shelter my flower,
So admir'd by the rich, and belov'd by the poor!
Whose blessing will cheer her sweet bosom for aye,
Nor fairy nor bogle will chase it away.
Bonnie Jean.
Sing on, sing on, my bonnie bird,
The sang ye sang yestreen, O,
When here, aneath the hawthorn wild,
I met my bonnie Jean, O.
My blude ran prinklin' through my veins,
My hair began to steer, O;
My heart play'd deep against my breast,
As I beheld my dear, O.
The sang ye sang yestreen, O,
When here, aneath the hawthorn wild,
I met my bonnie Jean, O.
My blude ran prinklin' through my veins,
My hair began to steer, O;
My heart play'd deep against my breast,
As I beheld my dear, O.
O weels me on my happy lot!
O weels me on my dearie!
O weels me on the charmin' spot,
Where a' combin'd to cheer me!
The mavis liltit on the bush,
The lavrock on the green, O;
The lily bloom'd, the daisy blush'd,
But a' was nought to Jean, O.
O weels me on my dearie!
O weels me on the charmin' spot,
Where a' combin'd to cheer me!
The mavis liltit on the bush,
The lavrock on the green, O;
The lily bloom'd, the daisy blush'd,
But a' was nought to Jean, O.
Sing on, sing on, my bonnie thrush,
Be neither flee'd nor eerie;
I'll wad your love sits in the bush,
That gars ye sing sae cheerie:
She may be kind, she may be sweet,
She may be neat an' clean, O;
But oh she's but a drysome mate,
Compared wi' bonnie Jean, O.
Be neither flee'd nor eerie;
I'll wad your love sits in the bush,
That gars ye sing sae cheerie:
She may be kind, she may be sweet,
She may be neat an' clean, O;
But oh she's but a drysome mate,
Compared wi' bonnie Jean, O.
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If love would open a' her stores,
An' a' her bloomin' treasures,
An' bid me rise, and turn, and choice,
An' taste her chiefest pleasures;
My choice wad be the rosy cheek,
The modest beaming eye, O;
The yellow hair, the bosom fair,
The lips o' coral dye, O.
An' a' her bloomin' treasures,
An' bid me rise, and turn, and choice,
An' taste her chiefest pleasures;
My choice wad be the rosy cheek,
The modest beaming eye, O;
The yellow hair, the bosom fair,
The lips o' coral dye, O.
A bramble shade around her head,
A burine poplin' by, O;
Our bed the swaird, our sheet the plaid,
Our canopy the sky, O.
An' here's the burn, an' there's the bush
Around the flowery green, O;
An' this the plaid, an' sure the lass
Wad be my bonnie Jean, O.
A burine poplin' by, O;
Our bed the swaird, our sheet the plaid,
Our canopy the sky, O.
An' here's the burn, an' there's the bush
Around the flowery green, O;
An' this the plaid, an' sure the lass
Wad be my bonnie Jean, O.
Hear me, thou bonnie modest moon!
Ye sternies twinklin' high, O!
An' a' ye gentle powers aboon,
That roam athwart the sky, O!
Ye see me gratefu' for the past,
Ye saw me blest yestreen, O;
An' ever till I breathe my last
Ye'll see me true to Jean, O.
Ye sternies twinklin' high, O!
An' a' ye gentle powers aboon,
That roam athwart the sky, O!
Ye see me gratefu' for the past,
Ye saw me blest yestreen, O;
An' ever till I breathe my last
Ye'll see me true to Jean, O.
Bonnie Leezy.
Though I've enjoyed my youth in health,
An' liv'd a life both free an' easy;
Yet real delight I never felt
Until I saw my bonnie Leezy.
I've seen the Athol birk sae fair,
The mountain pine, an' simple daisy;
But nought I've seen can e'er compare
Wi' the modest gracefu' form o' Leezy.
An' liv'd a life both free an' easy;
Yet real delight I never felt
Until I saw my bonnie Leezy.
I've seen the Athol birk sae fair,
The mountain pine, an' simple daisy;
But nought I've seen can e'er compare
Wi' the modest gracefu' form o' Leezy.
I've seen the hare trip o'er the dale,
The lamb upon the lea sae gaily;
But when young Leezy trips the vale,
For lively ease, she dings them fairly.
Her een, the dew-draps o' the morn!
Hae gi'en my heart an unco heezy:
It canna be that pride or scorn
Can lodge within the breast o' Leezy.
The lamb upon the lea sae gaily;
But when young Leezy trips the vale,
For lively ease, she dings them fairly.
Her een, the dew-draps o' the morn!
Hae gi'en my heart an unco heezy:
It canna be that pride or scorn
Can lodge within the breast o' Leezy.
I winna greet, I winna dee,
Though love has made me something reezy;
But mirth shall never gang wi' me
If aught befa' my bonnie Leezy.
When her and I to rest are gane,
May shepherds strew our graves wi' daisy!
And when o'er us they make their maen,
Aye join my name wi' bonnie Leezy!
Though love has made me something reezy;
But mirth shall never gang wi' me
If aught befa' my bonnie Leezy.
When her and I to rest are gane,
May shepherds strew our graves wi' daisy!
And when o'er us they make their maen,
Aye join my name wi' bonnie Leezy!
Now well may I.
Now well may I the haunts defy,
Where love unlicens'd reign'd, O,
Where sense is pall'd an' conscience gall'd,
And nature's laws profaned, O:
In yonder wood, above the flood,
Conceal'd frae ilka eye, O,
Forby the bat, an' beaming wain,
That slowly wheels on high, O.
Where love unlicens'd reign'd, O,
Where sense is pall'd an' conscience gall'd,
And nature's laws profaned, O:
In yonder wood, above the flood,
Conceal'd frae ilka eye, O,
Forby the bat, an' beaming wain,
That slowly wheels on high, O.
Where blooms the brier, gie me my dear
In innocence to woo, O;
An' ilka care on earth I'll leave,
This blessing to pursue, O.
Though troubles rise, and wars increase,
And discontents prevail, O,
We'll laugh and sing, and love our king,
Till strength and vigour fail, O.
In innocence to woo, O;
An' ilka care on earth I'll leave,
This blessing to pursue, O.
Though troubles rise, and wars increase,
And discontents prevail, O,
We'll laugh and sing, and love our king,
Till strength and vigour fail, O.
The Sheep Shearing.
The morning was fair, and the firmament sheen;
The valley was fresh, and the mountain was green,
When bonnie young Jean, of our maidens the queen,
Went over the dale to the shearing.
Her form was so fair, it was rather divine;
The rose-leaf and lily her features entwine;
Her lip was the clover-flower moistened with wine;
Her manner was sweet and endearing.
The valley was fresh, and the mountain was green,
When bonnie young Jean, of our maidens the queen,
Went over the dale to the shearing.
Her form was so fair, it was rather divine;
The rose-leaf and lily her features entwine;
Her lip was the clover-flower moistened with wine;
Her manner was sweet and endearing.
Her voice was the music, so tuneful and true;
Her hair was the sun-beam; her eye was the dew,
The mirror where love did his image review,
And smile at the shadow so pleasing.
The knight, who was there at the shearing the ewe
Says, “Farmer, your daughter's a beautiful rose:”
Then up to Miss Jeanie he instantly goes,
And kiss'd her and aye would be teasing.
Her hair was the sun-beam; her eye was the dew,
The mirror where love did his image review,
And smile at the shadow so pleasing.
The knight, who was there at the shearing the ewe
Says, “Farmer, your daughter's a beautiful rose:”
Then up to Miss Jeanie he instantly goes,
And kiss'd her and aye would be teasing.
He led her, and toy'd with her all the long day,
And gave her a ring set with jewels so gay:
“Oh! meet me, my dear,” he would pressingly say,
“This night in the bower by the river.”
“I'll ask at my father,” young Jeanie replies;
“I fain would be with you; but if he denies”—
“Ah! pray do not tell him,” said he, with surprise,
“And I'll love you, my Jeanie, for ever.”
And gave her a ring set with jewels so gay:
“Oh! meet me, my dear,” he would pressingly say,
“This night in the bower by the river.”
“I'll ask at my father,” young Jeanie replies;
“I fain would be with you; but if he denies”—
“Ah! pray do not tell him,” said he, with surprise,
“And I'll love you, my Jeanie, for ever.”
“But what, my dear sir, are you wanting with me?
I'll never do aught but my father may see;
He'll never refuse to intrust me with thee
From evening till dawn of the morning.”
She cries—“My dear father, the knight and your Jean
This night are to meet in the woodland so green,
To kiss and to prattle by mortal unseen,
From evening till dawn of the morning.”
I'll never do aught but my father may see;
He'll never refuse to intrust me with thee
From evening till dawn of the morning.”
She cries—“My dear father, the knight and your Jean
This night are to meet in the woodland so green,
To kiss and to prattle by mortal unseen,
From evening till dawn of the morning.”
The knight was abashed, and the farmer look'd sour;
“He mocks you, my jewel, go not to the bower.”
“Then, sir, I am sorry 'tis out of my power
To meet you this night by the river.
I'll always be proud of your gay company,
When my father permits I will wait upon thee.”
Then light as a lamb she skipp'd over the lea,
And left the poor knight in a fever.
“He mocks you, my jewel, go not to the bower.”
“Then, sir, I am sorry 'tis out of my power
To meet you this night by the river.
273
When my father permits I will wait upon thee.”
Then light as a lamb she skipp'd over the lea,
And left the poor knight in a fever.
“I ne'er saw a creature so lovely and sly;
Confound me, if ever I saw such an eye!
But every contrivance in life I will try
To catch her alone by the river.”
But all was in vain, she evaded him still,
Yet always received him with kindest good-will;
And now she's the lady of Merleton-hill,
And lovely and loving as ever.
Confound me, if ever I saw such an eye!
But every contrivance in life I will try
To catch her alone by the river.”
But all was in vain, she evaded him still,
Yet always received him with kindest good-will;
And now she's the lady of Merleton-hill,
And lovely and loving as ever.
How Foolish are Mankind.
How foolish are mankind to look for perfection
In any poor changling under the sun!
By nature, or habit, or want of reflection,
To vices or folly we heedlessly run.
The man who is modest and kind in his nature,
And open and cheerful in every degree;
Who feels for the woes of his own fellow-creature,
Though subject to failings, is dear unto me.
In any poor changling under the sun!
By nature, or habit, or want of reflection,
To vices or folly we heedlessly run.
The man who is modest and kind in his nature,
And open and cheerful in every degree;
Who feels for the woes of his own fellow-creature,
Though subject to failings, is dear unto me.
Far dearer to me is the humble ewe-gowan,
The sweet native violet, or bud of the broom,
Than fine fostered flowers in the garden a-growing,
Though sweet be their savour and bonnie their bloom.
Far dearer to me is the thrush or the linnet,
Than any fine bird from a far foreign tree;
And dearer my lad, with his plaid and blue bonnet,
Than all our rich nobles or lords that I see.
The sweet native violet, or bud of the broom,
Than fine fostered flowers in the garden a-growing,
Though sweet be their savour and bonnie their bloom.
Far dearer to me is the thrush or the linnet,
Than any fine bird from a far foreign tree;
And dearer my lad, with his plaid and blue bonnet,
Than all our rich nobles or lords that I see.
My Dear Little Jeanie.
“My dear little Jeanie, what maks ye sae shy
An' saucy wi' Charlie, whase horses an' kye
Gang wide on the meadow, his ewes on the lea?
An' where will you see sic a laddie as he?”
“Ah! father, if ye ken'd him as weel as I,
How ye wad despise him, his ewes an' his kye!
Whene'er we're our lane, on the meadow or hill,
Ilk word an' ilk action is tendin' to ill.
An' saucy wi' Charlie, whase horses an' kye
Gang wide on the meadow, his ewes on the lea?
An' where will you see sic a laddie as he?”
“Ah! father, if ye ken'd him as weel as I,
How ye wad despise him, his ewes an' his kye!
Whene'er we're our lane, on the meadow or hill,
Ilk word an' ilk action is tendin' to ill.
But Jamie's sae modest, that him I maun ruse;
He'll beg for a kiss, which I canna refuse:
He ne'er gies a look that a lassie needs fear,
Nor yet says a word but the warld may hear.
I ken, my dear father, ye like me sae weel,
That naething frae you I can ever conceal:
Young Charlie is handsome, and gallant to see;
But Jamie, though poorer, is dearer to me.”
He'll beg for a kiss, which I canna refuse:
He ne'er gies a look that a lassie needs fear,
Nor yet says a word but the warld may hear.
I ken, my dear father, ye like me sae weel,
That naething frae you I can ever conceal:
Young Charlie is handsome, and gallant to see;
But Jamie, though poorer, is dearer to me.”
“My sweet little Jeanie, the pride o' my age!
Oh, how I'm delighted to hear you sae sage!
The forward, who maks the young maiden his prey,
Is often caress'd, and the good sent away.
I like ye, my Jeanie, as dear as my life;
Ye've been a kind daughter, sae will ye a wife.
Then gree wi' your Jamie when he comes again;
From this time I'll count him a son o' my ain.”
Oh, how I'm delighted to hear you sae sage!
The forward, who maks the young maiden his prey,
Is often caress'd, and the good sent away.
I like ye, my Jeanie, as dear as my life;
Ye've been a kind daughter, sae will ye a wife.
Then gree wi' your Jamie when he comes again;
From this time I'll count him a son o' my ain.”
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