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In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul!
Ambition would disown
The world's imperial crown,
Ev'n Avarice would deny,
His worshipp'd deity,
And feel thro' every vein Love's raptures roll.
'TWAS NA HER BONIE BLUE E'E
Tune "Laddie, lie near me."
"TWAS na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin, Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoin';
'Twas the dear smile when nae body did mind us,
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness: 'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness.
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter:
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.
THEIR GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE
Tune "Humours of Glen."
THEIR groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon,
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny valleys,
And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave;
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
FORLORN, MY LOVE, NO COMFORT NEAR
FORLORN, My Love, no comfort near,
Chorus-O wert thou, Love, but near me!
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, Love.
Around me scowls a wintry sky,
Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
But, dreary tho' the moments fleet,
FRAGMENT, WHY, WHY TELL THE LOVER
Tune "Caledonian Hunt's delight."
WHY, why tell thy lover
Bliss he never must enjoy?
And give all his hopes the lie?
THE BRAW WOOER
Tune "The Lothian Lassie.”
LAST May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen,
I said, there was naething I hated like men—
He spak o' the darts in my bonie black e'en,
I said, he might die when he likèd for Jean-
A weel-stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird,
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd;
But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers;
But what wad ye think?-in a fortnight or less-
He up the Gate-slack to my black cousin, Bess
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her;
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
But a' the niest week, as I petted wi' care,
But wha but my fine fickle wooer was there,
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet,
But heavens! how he fell a swearin.
He begged, for gudesake, I wad be his wife,
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow;
I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE
Tune "This is no my house."
I SEE a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place;
She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall,
The kind love that's in her e'e.
This is no my ain, &c.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
It may escape the courtly sparks,
O BONIE WAS YON ROSY BRIER
O BONIE was yon rosy brier,
That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man;
Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,
How pure, amang the leaves sae green;
They witness'd in their shade yestreen.
All in its rude and prickly bower,
That crimson rose, how sweet and fair;
Amid life's thorny path o' care.
The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,
SONG INSCRIBED TO ALEXANDER CUNNINGHAM
Now spring has clad the grove in green,
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers.
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,