Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 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, Departed never to return. Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine: And fondly sae did I o' mine; But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF GLENCAIRN THE wind blew hollow frae the hills, By fits the sun's departing beam Look'd on the fading yellow woods, That wav'd o'er Lugar's winding stream: Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard, Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewail'd his lord, 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, Can gladness bring again to me. "I am a bending aged 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, I bear alane my lade o' care, 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: For a' the life of life is dead, And hope has left my aged ken, On forward wing for ever fled. "Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! The voice of woe and wild despair! Awake, resound thy latest lay, Then sleep in silence evermair! And thou, my last, best, only friend, That fillest an untimely tomb, Accept this tribute from the Bard Thou brought from Fortune's mirkest gloom. "In Poverty's low barren vale, Thick mists obscure involv'd me round; "O! why has worth so short a date, "The bridegroom may forget the bride The monarch may forget the crown The mother may forget the child That smiles sae sweetly on her knee; And a' that thou hast done for me!" LINES TO SIR JOHN WHITEFOORD, BART THOU, who thy honor as thy God rever'st, Who, save thy mind's reproach, nought earthly fear'st, To thee this votive offering I impart, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. The Friend thou valued'st, I, the Patron lov'd; His worth, his honour, all the world approved: We'll mourn till we too go as he has gone, And tread the shadowy path to that dark world unknown. CRAIGIEBURN WOOD SWEET closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn Wood, But the pride o' the spring in the Craigieburn Wood Chorus.-Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie, O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep I see the spreading leaves and flowers, I can na tell, I maun na tell, I daur na for your anger; But secret love will break my heart, I see thee gracefu', straight and tall, To see thee in another's arms, But Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine, THE BONIE WEE THING Chorus.-Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing, WISHFULLY I look and languish Bonie wee thing, &c. Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty, In ae constellation shine; |