The meanest hind in fair Scotland I was the Queen o' bonie France, But as for thee, thou false woman, My sister and my fae, Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword That thro' thy soul shall gae; The weeping blood in woman's breast Was never known to thee; Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe Frae woman's pitying e'e. My son! my son! may kinder stars And may those pleasures gild thy reign, That ne'er wad blink on mine! God keep thee frae thy mother's faes, Or turn their hearts to thee: And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, Remember him for me! O! soon, to me, may Summer suns And, in the narrow house of death, And the next flow'rs that deck the Spring, THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME By yon Castle wa', at the close of the day, The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars, My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd; Now life is a burden that bows me down, SONG-OUT OVER THE FORTH OUT over the Forth, I look to the North; But I look to the west when I gae to rest, That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be; For far in the west lives he I loe best, The man that is dear to my babie and me. THE BANKS O' DOON FIRST VERSION SWEET are the banks-the banks o' Doon, Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true: Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, But my fause Luver staw my rose, And sae I flourished on the morn, THE BANKS O' DOON SECOND VERSION YE flowery banks o' bonie Doon, And I sae fu' o care! Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough! Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And ilka bird sang o' its Luve, But my fause Luver staw my rose, And sae I flourished on the morn, THE BANKS O' DOON THIRD VERSION YE banks and braes o' bonie Doon, And I sae weary fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: Departed never to return. Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine: And ilka bird sang o' its Luve, And fondly sae did I o' mine; LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRN THE wind blew hollow frae the hills, By fits the sun's departing beam That way'd o'er Lugar's winding stream: Laden with years and meikle pain, Whom Death had all untimely ta'en. He lean'd him to an ancient aik, Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years; His locks were bleachèd white with time, His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears! And as he touch'd his trembling harp, And as he tun'd his doleful sang, The winds, lamenting thro' their caves, To Echo bore the notes alang. "Ye scatter'd birds that faintly sing, The reliques o' the vernal queir! Can gladness bring again to me. "I am a bending agèd tree, That long has stood the wind and rain; But now has come a cruel blast, And my last hald of earth is gane; Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring, Nae simmer sun exalt my bloom; But I maun lie before the storm, And ithers plant them in my room. "I've seen sae mony changefu' years, On earth I am a stranger grown: Alike unknowing, and unknown: For silent, low, on beds of dust, Lie a' that would my sorrows share. "And last, (the sum of a' my griefs!) His country's pride, his country's stay: |