ELEGY ON THE LATE MISS BURNET OF MONBODDO LIFE ne'er exulted in so rich a prize, Thy form and mind, sweet maid, can I forget? In vain ye flaunt in summer's pride, ye groves; Ye heathy wastes, immix'd with reedy fens; Princes, whose cumb'rous pride was all their worth, We saw thee shine in youth and beauty's pride, The parent's heart that nestled fond in thee, So, from it ravish'd, leaves it bleak and bare. LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, On the approach of Spring. Now Nature hangs her mantle green On every blooming tree, And spreads her sheets o' daisies white Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, But nought can glad the weary wight Now laverocks wake the merry morn The merle, in his noontide bow'r, Now blooms the lily by the bank, I was the Queen o' bonie France, And never-ending care. But as for thee, thou false woman, Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword The weeping blood in woman's breast Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of woe My son! my son! may kinder stars And may those pleasures gild thy reign, God keep thee frae thy mother's faes, And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, O! soon, to me, may Summer suns And, in the narrow house of death, Let Winter round me rave; And the next flow'rs that deck the Spring, THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME HC VI By yon Castle wa', at the close of the day, The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars, AA We dare na weel say't, but we ken wha's to blame,— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd; It brak the sweet heart o' my faithful auld dame,— There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. 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, And everything is blythe and glad, But I am 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, Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, But my fause Luver staw my rose, Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a 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, For sae I sat, and sae I sang, Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, |