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For had He said "the soul alone
From death I will deliver,"
Then hadst thou lain for ever.
ON BEING SHEWN A BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY SEAT
WE grant they're thine, those beauties all,
Keep them, thou eunuch, Cardoness,
ON HEARING IT ASSERTED FALSEHOOD
is expressed in the Rev. Dr. Babington's very looks.
THAT there is a falsehood in his looks,
I must and will deny:
They tell their Master is a knave,
And sure they do not lie.
ON A SUICIDE
EARTH'D up, here lies an imp o' hell,
Poor silly wretch, he's damned himsel',
ON A SWEARING COXCOMB
HERE cursing, swearing Burton lies,
Who in his life did little good,
And his last words were "Dem my blood!"
ON AN INNKEEPER NICKNAMED "THE MARQUIS"
HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose titles were shamm'd,
ON ANDREW TURNER
IN se'enteen hunder 'n forty-nine,
But wilily he chang'd his plan,
An' shap'd it something like a man, An' ca'd it Andrew Turner.
As I gaed up by yon gate-end,
Her air sae sweet, an' shape complete,
Wi' linked hands we took the sands,
ESTEEM FOR CHLORIS
Aн, Chloris, since it may not be,
Altho' I love my Chloris mair
Tho' a' my daily care thou art,
SAW YE MY DEAR, MY PHILLY
O SAW ye my Dear, my Philly?
O saw ye my Dear, my Philly,
She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new Love,
What says she my dear, my Philly?
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Philly!
HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT How lang and dreary is the night
When I am frae my Dearie;
I restless lie frae e'en to morn
Though I were ne'er sae weary.
Chorus. For oh, her lanely nights are lang!
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
When I think on the lightsome days.
For oh, &c.
How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
The joyless day how dreary:
It was na sae ye glinted by,
INCONSTANCY IN LOVE
Tune "Duncan Gray."
LET not Woman e'er complain
Mark the winds, and mark the skies,
You can be no more, you know.
THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS
Tune "Deil tak the wars."
SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy morn now lifts his
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
In twining hazel bowers,
Its lay the linnet pours,
Ascends, wi' sangs o' joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
Phœbus gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature, gladdening and adorning;
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky:
In pride of Beauty's light
When thro' my very heart
Her burning glories dart;
'Tis then-'tis then I wake to life and joy!
THE WINTER OF LIFE
Bur lately seen in gladsome green,
Thro' gentle showers, the laughing flowers
In double pride were gay:
But now our joys are fled
But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
My trunk of eild, but buss or beild,
Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
Oh, Age has weary days,
And nights o' sleepless pain:
Thou golden time, o' Youthfu' prime,
Why comes thou not again!
BEHOLD, MY LOVE, HOW GREEN THE GROVES
BEHOLD, my love, how green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings: