Cvi\r\vx% VvMrvev.! 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 
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 -^*^:';-: 
 
 ?,-B.'?lft->":>;,
 
 Vi-/' 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 SONGS: 
 
 CHIEFLY 
 
 IN THE RURAL LANGUAGE 
 
 OF 
 
 SCOTLAND. 
 
 BY 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 " Such as I've heard in Scotish land, 
 Rise from the busy harvest band ; 
 When falls before the motlntaineer. 
 On Lowland plains, the ripened ear." 
 
 fLonOont 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 % Smith 8; Davy, 17, Queen Street, Seven Dials; 
 
 AND SOLD BY J. HEARNE, 218, TOTTENHAM COURT ROAD} 
 
 SHERWOOD, NEELY AND JONES, PATERNOSTER ROW | 
 
 J. H. RICHARDSON, CORNHILL; AND 
 
 RODWELL, liATB FAULDER, NEW BOND STREET. 
 
 1813.
 
 ^ . <
 
 S63 
 
 TO 
 
 J HARRY PHILLIPS, ESQ. 
 
 ^ JVEff BOJVD STREET. 
 
 \ A POET who undertakes the compositioa of a Song, of 
 
 numbers harmonious, of generous affluence of language, 
 
 of imagery unsullied and glowing, as presented to the eye 
 
 . X on the fresh bosom of nature, and eminent for noble, na- 
 
 xV, tural and original sentiments; may congratulate himself 
 
 ^ upon holding immediate communion with the sources of 
 
 ^ inspiration, if he finds it an undertaking of easy accora 
 
 ^ plishment. Innumerous are the competitors for the palm 
 
 '^O of lyrical excellence : for not only do our most popular 
 
 Poets indulge themselves in song during the intermission 
 
 of loftier labours, but every youth whose heart palpitates 
 
 with delight in the presence of a comely damsel, stands 
 
 prompt to celebrate her charms in verse ; so that the con< 
 
 tinual chaunt of amatory numbers is heard in every village, 
 
 3GSa54
 
 ly DEDICATION. 
 
 and in evrv ?iftmW Neither AMTrtain flows, nor rivulet 
 -"'-' ,.; :;i .reing' signalized t ^ ":' No green hilf 
 >i with tuDimit jional footsteps 
 
 iratiou. 'ibfc 
 grove, are elsewhere ;. !-.: 
 
 their natural inhabitants, and every dale auu . 
 plat of ground, from the cliffs of Dover to the snowy peak 
 of the remote Pentland, are familiar with the feet of the 
 love-smitten minstrel. Notwithstanding, however, this 
 general inclination towards lyrical composition, there is 
 certainly a lack of pure lyrical excellence. Although the 
 poetic heart has abundantly partaken of that passion, the 
 throbs of which are the most delicious that visit the human 
 soul, it has frequently failed to transmit its divine emo- 
 tions to those verses which record that passion. The im- 
 passioned eloquence kindled by the presence of an adored 
 mistress, the throbbings of the inspired heart when absence 
 cherishes within it the noblest emotions, the broken agi- 
 tation and conflict of feeling that disturb the soul when 
 jealousy or despair convulse and agonize our frame, have 
 all been permitted to perish ; and that divine enthusiasm 
 has been succeeded by a colder and more subdued feeling, 
 where the head has been more frequently consulted thaa 
 the heart.
 
 DEDICATION. V 
 
 To display more amply ray own conceptions of -what 
 constitute the legitimate elements of lyrical composition, 
 I will proceeed to describe for the purpose of dismissing 
 them, all the different species of transgressions into which 
 I accuse the Poets of the heart of having fallen. After 
 seriously meditating therefore upon the characteristic ex- 
 cellencies of those songs which the approval of the public 
 has made popular, I have consented to censure, as wholly 
 unworthy of future imitation, half a dozen devitations from 
 the natural tone of British lyrical composition. 
 
 1. There is a class of courtly Poets of ancient date, 
 whose opinions have unfortunately travelled down unim- 
 paired to the present day, infecting many with an ansa- 
 tiable desire of writing something out of the natural and 
 ordinary track of human emotion. These persons prO' 
 ceed to refresh the hearts of their mistresses with meta* 
 physical subtilties and sprightly sallies of wit, which ap- 
 pertain not to the customary feelings of the human race* 
 They delight in displacing thoughts of a growth altogether 
 different from those that are the natural possessors of the 
 female bosom, and the heart not having been schooled in 
 their particular track of thinking, compels itself to leap 
 with reluctance at their fantastic and uncouth raptures. 
 A2
 
 VI DEDICATION 
 
 Infinite is their pleasure in conjuring up logical conceits, 
 quaint and remote allusions, and subtle prettinesses of ex- 
 pression; they surprize the heart without being able to" 
 seize it, and lift the soul to momentary wonder without 
 possessing the power of captivating, or filling it with deli- 
 cious agitation. To thera belongs a true scholastic con- 
 tempt for the uncultivated beauties of British landscape ; 
 they are particularly careful to encompass their mistresses 
 with Eastern forests, floods, and habitations ; neither do 
 they permit thera to repose in the shade of a tree, to 
 saunter in an arbour, nor press their foot upon a flower 
 whose appearance cannot be justified by classical quota- 
 tion. Thus they make continual excursions for imagery 
 in those paradisiacal regions, where the imagination can 
 repose itself wholly undisturbed by those rural sounds 
 which are familiar and welcome to a British ear. What- 
 ever is of native growth to them is vulgar, and the reader' 
 wearied of their presence, dismisses their compositions ; 
 conscious that those who keep themselves always within 
 the trammels of classical imitation, will ever succeed in 
 signalizing themselves for coldness of heart. 
 
 2. Akin to that class of lyrical transgressors which I 
 have already mentioned, appear a humbler race of bards.
 
 DEDICATIOJr. VU 
 
 who cannot ruminate on the countenance or proportion 
 of the objects of their adoration, without assisting their 
 contemplations with the remembrance of Venus, or the fas- 
 cinations of her illustrious companions the Graces. These 
 gentle youths cannot feel the commonest emotion of the 
 heart, without compelling Cupid to exhaust his whole 
 quiver upon their persons ; nor dream of virgin chasteness, 
 unless they are visited by Diana and a numerous train of 
 celestial huntresses. Whatever is presented to their eyes 
 instantly assumes a classical complexion, an^ they salute 
 the common luminaries of heaven according to the manner 
 of the heathen. It certainly calls forth emotions of a 
 colder aspect than love, for a lady to listen to a splendid 
 invocation to Apollo ere that adored name is pronounced, 
 at which the Poet should alone seek inspiration. We 
 doubtless form a very lively and accurate notion of the 
 object of that Poet's love, who tells us, that she is rosy- 
 palmed like Venus ; that she resembles the youngest of her 
 handmaids, and has the gait of a wood nymph. We trem- 
 ble for the sterility of our native landscape, when we are 
 informed that pillars of perfume accompany her footsteps, 
 and that the pasture upon which she walks is a carpet of 
 most odoriferous herbs, and precious flowers of unperish> 
 able blossom. At the same time we sigh for the stubborn-
 
 via DEDICATION. 
 
 ness of a British grove, when we find those in which this 
 happy damsel chuses to saunter, bending roost courteously 
 their fragrant tops, and crowding and combining into 
 charming arbours for her reception. Instead of giving us 
 a simple and sweet drawing of the person, at whose idea 
 the Poet's soul should be awakened, he lifts his classic 
 wand, and instantly a procession of the female deities of 
 floods and fields are compelled to pass before us, and rigid 
 comparisons are made with the most celebrated excellen- 
 cies of each. This, I confess, is a sin, which frequently 
 distinguishes a youth during his abode at college; but it is 
 easy to preserve, unpolluted, the natural current of com- 
 position where the heart is entangled. A Poet, under the 
 influence of passion, will never encumber his verses with 
 abstracted personages who disturb the rapid and glowing 
 progress of thought. He will dismiss the whole pomp, 
 paraphernalia and pageantry of heathen deification ; and 
 reverence and employ in their place the fresh and impres- 
 sive ipaagery of his native land, and the simple and un- 
 adorned language of sensibility and spontaneous emotion. 
 
 3. Distinct from these, and yet tinctured with pedantry 
 equally fantastic, comes that description of Poets whose 
 understandings are tainted with the belief, that the present
 
 DEDICATION. IX 
 
 race of mortals has degenerated and fallen off from pri- 
 meval innocence, and bewail in melancholy strains the 
 sinfulness of man's heart, which has visited the earth with 
 a general curse of unfruitfulness. Anxious, therefore, to 
 restore a resemblance of man's lost estate, they imagine a 
 race of beings perfectly pure, and people with them, re- 
 gions of such beatific splendour and fertility, that every 
 heart is filled with lamentation for the world we have lost. 
 In this most delightful of possible worlds, the whole occu- 
 pation of man is to contrive and frame melodious instru- 
 ments to accompany the song, with which his fair compa- 
 nion amuses their flocks during their hours of pasture. 
 Woman walks apparelled in her robe of natural innocence, 
 and entwines with garlands her hair by the mirror of some 
 fountain that takes especial heed to be clear, so that she 
 may contemplate her whole person, sweeping locks and all. 
 Beneath their feet the turf has never suffered the cultiva- 
 tor's plough-share to pass along its bosom, but yields its 
 fruit spontaneously at the will of the possessor. Perpe- 
 tually luxuriant, the groves never shook with the tem- 
 pestuous blast of winter, and over head shines an ever 
 vivifying sun, whose brilliant path in heaven no cloud ever 
 offended. Pan himself sits self-crowned potentate of the 
 beauteous domains, but be exacts no stipend, he places no
 
 X DEBICATION. 
 
 land mark. His subjects are, however, obliged to try 
 their new musical instruments in his presence, for he per- 
 mits none to be fashioned whose notes, like those of the 
 Highland bagpipe, might stir his clans to conflict. Mean- 
 time, in the tops of the groves resounds perpetual rival- 
 ship between choirs of certain melodious birds, who men- 
 tion in alternate strains that Sylvander and Chloris have 
 met, for the first time, in an arbour of woodbine, and are 
 consenting to fulfil their nuptial engagements, when the 
 birds have disposed their heads to roost beneath their 
 wings. In the morning, certain ruddy-countenanced shep- 
 herds commence a discreet concert, to commemorate the 
 consummation of their nuptials. Pan is filled with infi- 
 nite anguish when he hearkens to music more charming 
 than the notes of his Arcadian lute. He obtains from 
 Apollo an immortal strain, with which he detains a caval- 
 cade of naids and wood nymphs; who, enamoured with 
 mortal music, were about to prefer the suit of a lusty 
 shepherd to that of Apollo himself, graceful as when he 
 piped of old before the flocks of Adraetus. Now we con- 
 template these beings without emotion, and recognize not 
 one ancestorial feature about their whole persons. In a re- 
 gion so supremely blest as their's we anticipate every event, 
 aod no alarm can call forth the active feelings of the mind
 
 DEDICATION. XI 
 
 %rfaere no disaster can possibly happen. No noble actions 
 are performed where there is no ambition to stimulate us, 
 nor competition for pre-eminence to call forth chivalrous 
 adventure. The measure of felicity is already full, and 
 man having no social sympathy to bestow upon those 
 with whom the gods are so familiar, dismisses them with- 
 out any reluctance to mingle with society more akin to 
 himself. 
 
 4. A fraternity of lyrical sentimentalists have recently 
 made their appearance, with a professed veneration and 
 high-toned affection for every thing which excites no 
 emotions in any breasts but their own. They have imme- 
 diate drops of tenderness to shed over the remains of an 
 old hawthorn ; and hours of enthusiastic adoration to de- 
 vote to the company of a daisy, when it first sets its head 
 above the clod. A lilly new risen on the margin of a 
 lake, shows its blossom amid thanksgiving and song ; and 
 should it be trodden down or browsed, a fruitful fountain 
 of tears is opened, and the flood-gates of lamentation do 
 not always close with the will of the possessor. They 
 walk in continual terror of bruising a flower, or maiming 
 a gnat, and are indignant with any rustic who profanes 
 with too rude a foot the living carpet of nature. They
 
 XU DEDICATION. 
 
 have likewise discovered a new method of adoring the per- 
 fections of woman. Instead of being enraptured with the 
 accomplishments of the mind, the tenderness of the heart, 
 or personal loveliness, they permit the print of a damsel's 
 foot, or her cast-off apparel, to elicit forth devotional ad- 
 miration ; a lily hand excites no emotion, but the tea cup 
 which it has touched calls forth profuse, and immediate 
 transport and tenderness. Even the prospect of chastely 
 enclosing in their arms the fair proportioned form of a 
 beloved mistress, which heretofore has made the heart of 
 many a bard bound for joy, possesses no charms for them 
 compared to that of clasping her cast-off slipper, or sobbing 
 on the pillow where her head has reclined. The imagery 
 which accompanies this distempered sensibility, presents 
 throughout the same unnatural complexion. The lumber 
 and offal of the earth are to them relics of inestimable 
 value, and they have a mortal aversion to all improvement 
 that disturbs the prospects with which their childhood was 
 familiar. They would rather leave unsown an acre of 
 good corn, than prevent the expansion of a flower for 
 which they had conceived an affection. Nature is ar- 
 raigned for permitting a venerable oak to decay and be- 
 come s^less, and the lord of the manor is rebuked, for 
 wantonly removing a heap of stones to sow corn in its
 
 DEDICATION. XWl 
 
 Stead. Sorrowful are they to see a hawthorn plundered of 
 its boughs by the well-whetted axe of the husbandman, 
 and it is pitiful to behold a goodly ash hewn down and 
 polished, for the purpose of fastening upon it the cultiva- 
 tor's plough-share. Of these and similar materials, is their 
 sympathetic imagery composed. Possessing, therefore, a 
 sickly feeling wholly different from the general current 
 which runs through the hearts of mankind, we find it im- 
 possible for us to participate in their emotions. They 
 possess strong natural genius with the unhappy faculty of 
 peryerting all its dictates, and subduing it into obedient 
 servility when it is likely to become buoyant. As there 
 is little hope of the order of nature being reversed for the 
 sake of fulfilling their desire of becoming popular, I may 
 safely dismiss them as unnecessary innovators on the 
 chasteness of lyrical spirit and composition. 
 
 5. Under the fifth head I arrange that class of Poets, 
 who, finding no British name sufficiently sonorous to ho- 
 nour with their adoration, introduce the heroines of hea- 
 then lyrics into Christian song. Instead of pouring out at 
 the altar of British beauty the eloquent overflowings of the 
 heart instead of making a pathetic appeal to a name
 
 XIV DEDICATIOy. 
 
 found common on their native baptismal register, we find 
 them passing benevolent benedictions on the visitations of 
 imaginary eyes, and complaining of wounds received from 
 names we know are not near lo inflict them. We find 
 them abounding in devotional tendernesses to Delia. Pre- 
 ferring complaints in abject bitterness of soul against the 
 cruelty of Chloris, and moaning under tbe dominion of 
 Chloe, a name that has tyrannised in poetry since the time 
 of the Crusades. Now there is something refreshing and 
 delightful to find harmonious names in verse, which mingle 
 in native society. The names of British ladies have a 
 sound that comes grateful to the ear, and rouse up de- 
 lightful recollections within us. Let then this classical 
 pedantry be totally dismissed, and let us have British lyrics 
 unpolluted with antiquated or exotic ornaments. 
 
 6. In the last place, I come to speak of those who en- 
 deavouring to be simple are continually childish, and be- 
 come constantly mean in attempting to be purely rural. 
 For simple and manly emotions, we have affectation and 
 infantine prattle; and for the fresh and gratifying luxu- 
 riance of natural landscape, we are presented with scenery 
 <a which the eye becomes sick while contemplating it.
 
 DEDICATION. XV 
 
 They are particularly fond of a pastoral life, and contrive 
 to purchase flocks which never wander from their pasture, 
 and shed their fleeces in all the luxuriance that the pro- 
 prietor wishes. Meantime the shepherd himself couches 
 by the side of a murmuring stream, which he contrives to 
 make a torrent with his tears, because a nymph who tends 
 her flocks in the neighbourhood, refuses to surrender her 
 person to his embraces. During all this the maid is stand- 
 ing, unespied, beside him, and becoming moved at his 
 affliction, throws her arms around his neck, and they are 
 married in the morning. I do not know that I am jus- 
 tified in calling all this the transgression of men of 
 genius. 
 
 I am conscious, that by this wide sweeping censure, 
 many Poets are arraigned who have hitherto been con- 
 sidered of high lyrical eminence, and others attainted of 
 occasional treasons against nature ; some of whose songs 
 are the master-pieces of lyrical excellence. But, I have 
 been wholly desirous of fixing an accurate idea of what I 
 hold to be the natural elements of British song, by diseiw 
 cumbering it of those gorgeous trappings and unnatural 
 decorations, with which injudicious innovators have ob-
 
 XVI DEDICATION. 
 
 scured its beauties. This labour, perhaps, may not be 
 unacceptable to those, who prefer the simple and negligent 
 strokes of nature, to the studied and elaborate enrich- 
 ments of art who admire spontaneous simplicity of soul, 
 charming artiessness of manners, and curious felicity, force 
 and feeling of expression ; and who adore the simple 
 pathos which sinks to the soul, above all the funereal pomp 
 and circumstance of the most laboured elegy. 
 
 It now becomes my duty to say something concerning 
 the Songs which compose this volume. I have attempted 
 to preserve inviolable, what I conceived to be the primi 
 live rules of lyrical composition, and associate with 
 the emotions of love the rural imagery of my native 
 land. 
 
 Perhaps the English reader may think, that 1 have 
 sprinkled them somewhat too profusely with the rural 
 language of Scotland ; but the sound of my native tongue 
 stirred up pleasant remembrances within me, which I 
 sought not to resist; and in it I discovered a lyrical 
 grace and harmony, which elsewhere I sought after in
 
 DEDICATIOK. XVU 
 
 By your generosity, I have beea enabled to present this 
 volume before my countrymen, for approval or disappro- 
 bation ; and without your spontaneous and unsolicited 
 assistance, the Public would never have had the pain of 
 censuring, or the pleasure of tolerating it. 
 
 I am, 
 Sir, 
 With sincere respect, 
 Your most obedient servant, 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM:. 
 
 3, St, John's Street, 
 
 St. John's Church, Westminster, 
 
 \ St June, 1813.
 
 INDEX TO THE SONGS, 
 
 TAGt 
 
 Awake my love is 
 
 Bonnie Jean 61 
 
 Bothwell Bank 68 
 
 Come wooe me at }our leisure 45 
 
 Fashionable sin 43 
 
 rl! gang nae raair to yon town 9 
 
 Jeanie 37 
 
 Jeanie Walker 80 
 
 Kind love is a lightsome thing 55 
 
 Love and something mair 13 
 
 Lady Jean 23 
 
 Lord William 64 
 
 Lovely Woman 74 
 
 Lord Randal 77 
 
 My love has meshes in her hair 3 
 
 My heart is in Scotland 5 
 
 Mary with the rosie lips 17 
 
 My ain kind thing 35 
 
 My Nanie 38 
 
 May Macfarlane 71 
 
 Oh mount and come 31 
 
 Slighted love 67 
 
 The wanton wife 6 
 
 The lovely lass of Preston mill 10
 
 XX INDEX TO THE SONGS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The lock of raven hair 12 
 
 The red red rose 15 
 
 The Turkish maid 20 
 
 The laird's daughter ; . 25 
 
 The secret 27 
 
 The mourning lady ' : 28 
 
 The false one 30 
 
 The bonnie lass 32 
 
 To Jean in heaven 33 
 
 The fair-locked youth ; 40 
 
 The maid I lo\e 42 
 
 The broken heart , 46 
 
 The yellow-haired laddie 48 
 
 The rosie cheek . , . . ; 50 
 
 The pilgrim 51 
 
 The bonnie lassie 53 
 
 The thefts of love 67 
 
 The lad who courted me * 59 
 
 The lonesome damsel 65 
 
 The disconsolate damsel . 70 
 
 The vain glory o't 72 
 
 The mourning maiden , .... 75 
 
 The mariner 76 
 
 The Highlander's lament 78 
 
 The lovely lass of Preston mill 81
 
 SCOTISH SONGS.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 MY LOVE HAS MESHES IJV HER HAIR. 
 
 SONG I. 
 
 ]. 
 
 JiIy love has meshes in her hair, 
 And witch-locks o'er her arched brows ; 
 
 Pure and fresh colour'd are her cheeks, 
 Like crimson on a creamy rose; 
 
 Her neck, o'er which her tresses hing, 
 
 Is snow beneath a raven's win^. 
 
 My love is rosie on the lip, 
 And dear I long to kiss the rose; 
 
 A lillie spotless as her breast 
 Rose never gemm'd with morning dews ; 
 
 Ne'er saint in adoration more 
 
 Of purenest lov'd than I adore. 
 B8
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 My love's two eyes are bonnie stars. 
 New wakea'd to adorn the skies; 
 
 And I will by our tryste thorn sit. 
 And watch them at their ev'uing rise; 
 
 That when they shine on tow'r and tree, 
 
 Their heav'niy light may fall on me. 
 
 O Evening, gray-lock'd and demure. 
 When bashful lovers come to wooe. 
 
 O'er primrose bank and scented grove. 
 Thou shak'st thy tresses bright with dew ; 
 
 Say, didst thou dew ere flower or tree. 
 
 More lovely or more sweet than she. 
 
 5. 
 
 Bear witness, O thou lover star. 
 New woke on Criffel's comely hill, 
 
 That light'st the lover on his path. 
 To meet his maid in green wood still ; 
 
 Thy silver light did never shine. 
 
 On love more pure, more fond than mine. 
 
 a. 
 
 Bright on the lark's breast glanced the dew. 
 
 Beside us nestling on the lea ; 
 She call'd her mate from golden cloud, 
 
 To warble by my love and me ; 
 Nor from her gorlines did she move, 
 For well she saw our looks were love.
 
 SCOTISH SONOS. A 
 
 MY HEART IS IJV SCOTLAND. 
 SONG II. 
 
 1. 
 
 iVlY heart is in Scotland, my heart is not here, 
 I left it at home with a lass I love dear ; 
 When the ev'nin^ star comes o'er the hill-tops of green, 
 I bless its fair light, and I think on my Jean. 
 What distance can fasten, what country can bind, 
 The flight of my soul, or the march of my mind; 
 Though hills tow'r atween us, and wide waters flow, 
 My heart is in Scotland wherever I go. 
 
 8. 
 
 When I bade her farewell on the flow'r-blossom'd knowe, 
 
 The bright lamps of heaven more lovely did lowe ; 
 
 The ocean return'd back the moon's silver beam, 
 
 The wood tops and fountains were all in a leam j 
 
 Our wet eyes to heaven in transports we threw, 
 
 Our souls talk'd of love, for our hearts were o'er fou % 
 
 Her warm parting kiss on my lips aye will glow, 
 
 For my heart is in Scotland wherever I go. 
 
 3. 
 
 How silent we met, and how lonesome the grove. 
 The rising moon welcom'd and kend of our love; 
 The wind mongst the branches hung list'ning and lowne, 
 The sweet flow'rs blush'd love, with their bloomy heads 
 down.
 
 O SCOTTSH SONGS. 
 
 The hours seem'd but minutes, so lightsome they fiewi 
 Her arms clasped kinder, more sweet her lips grew ; 
 Till Aurora, gold-lock'd, set the land in a lowe, 
 
 my heart is in Scotland wherever I go. 
 
 4. 
 
 Now where are love's gloaming walks 'mang the new dew, 
 
 The white clasping arms, and the red rosie mou; 
 
 The eloquent tongue dropping honey of love, 
 
 And the talk of two eyes which a statue might move: 
 
 1 left them by Crifiel's green mountain at hame, 
 And far from the heaven that holds them I came ; 
 
 Come wealth, or come want, or come weal, or come woe, 
 My heart will be with them wherever I go. 
 
 THE WAJ^TO^ WIFE. 
 
 SONG III. 
 
 IN ITH trembling to the reaper's sang. 
 Warm glitter'd in the morning sun, 
 
 And murmur'd up the lonesome glen. 
 Where wife of wanton wit did wonne. 
 
 Her tongue wagg'd with unholy wit, 
 Unstint by kirk or gospel ban';
 
 SCOTISH SONOS. 
 
 And, aye, she wist the kirkyard mooU 
 Green growing o'er her old goodman. 
 
 2. 
 
 Her old goodman drapp'd in at e'en, 
 With harvest hook, sore toii'd was he; 
 
 Small was his cog, and cauld his kale, 
 But anger never rais'd his e'e. 
 
 He bless'd the little, and was biythe, 
 
 While dame with clamorous tongue began ; 
 
 " O sorrow clap yere old bald pow, 
 And dance w'ye to the mools goodman." 
 
 3. 
 
 He hang his bonnet on the pin, 
 
 And down he lay in dole and pine; 
 While she sat singing in the nook. 
 
 And touting at the rosie wine. 
 The lark, mid morning's silver gray, 
 
 That wont to cheer him work-ward gaun, 
 Next morning miss'd amang the dew, 
 
 Tfle biythe and dainty old goodman. 
 
 4. 
 
 The third morn dew on flow'r and tree, 
 
 Gan glorious in the sun to glow. 
 When sang the wanton wife to mark. 
 
 His feet gaun foremost o'er the knowe. 
 The first flight of the winter rime. 
 
 That on the kirkyard award had faun, 
 The wanton wife skift oflF the grave, 
 
 A kirkiog with her new goodman.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 5. 
 
 A dainty dame I wot she was, 
 
 High brent, and burnish'd was her brow, 
 'JVIang lint locks curling, and her lips 
 
 Twin daisies dawn'd through honey dew. 
 And light and lovesome in the dance, 
 
 When hall was het, or kirn was wan; 
 Her hands two drifts of virgin snow, 
 
 In cold December's bosom faun. 
 
 But, long e're winter's winds blew by. 
 
 She skirled in her lonesome howe; 
 Her new goodman with hazle rung, 
 
 Began to kame her wanton powe. 
 Her hearth was sloken'd out with care, 
 
 Toom grew her chest, and cauld her pan ; 
 And dreech and dowie waxed the night, 
 
 Ere beltane with her new goodman. 
 
 She dreary sits 'tween naked walls, 
 
 Her cheeks ne'er dimpling into mirth. 
 Half happed haurling out of doors, 
 
 And hunger haunted at her hearth. 
 And see the tears thick in her locks, 
 
 Warm happing down her haffets wan ; 
 But, think her bitterness of soul, 
 
 la sorrow for her old goodman.
 
 C0T1SH SONGS. 
 
 PLL GJJVG JV^E JffJIR TO YOJV TOfFJ^. 
 SONG IV. 
 
 1. 
 
 M. LL gang nae mair to yon town. 
 
 Betide me joy, betide me pain; 
 I'yc tint my heart in yon town, 
 
 And dare na gang the gate again. 
 The sun shall cease to thowe the snow, 
 
 The corn to shoot with summer rain. 
 When I gang back to yon town, 
 
 To gang the gate my heart has gane. 
 
 2. 
 Yestre'en I went to yon town. 
 
 With heart in pleasure panting free, 
 As stag won from the hunter's snare, 
 
 As birdie building on the tree. 
 But ae half-hour tint all my peace, 
 
 And lair'd ray soul in dole and pain; 
 And weary fa' the witchcraft wit, 
 
 That winna let it free again. 
 
 Had I but been by Fortune's hand, 
 In lap of lordly grandeur thrown; 
 
 And she had trimm'd the humblest cot, 
 That ever rose in Caledon : 
 
 i
 
 10 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 I'd lapt her in my princely plaid, 
 My heart in rapture flichtring fain. 
 
 And bless'd the happy hour I went. 
 To see the mirthsome town again. 
 
 4. 
 
 She's fair as summer-smiling morn, 
 
 But prouder still I wot she be; 
 Dread is the journey to her heart, 
 
 She measures in her haughty e'e. 
 But, ah ! she's spotless as the flow'r, 
 
 New risen 'mang the summer rain ; 
 And I maun gang to yon town. 
 
 To see the lovesome lass asrain. 
 
 THE LOVELY LASS OF PRESTOJ^-MILL. 
 SONG V. 
 
 X HE goldfinch lovea the thistle top, 
 With beard down-dropping silver dew; 
 
 The lark rejoices with the sun, 
 
 Bright rising o'er the mountain blue. 
 
 But, 1 love best the summer moon, 
 Awak'ning on the eastern hill ;
 
 SC0TI8H SONGS. 11 
 
 For then, in fragrant walks, I meet 
 The lovely iau of Preston-Mill. 
 
 2. 
 
 The balmy cowslips' carpet green. 
 
 My love's white foot along the plain; 
 The golden gowans wag their tops. 
 
 In her superior presence fain. 
 I clasp her to ray beating heart. 
 
 With her sweet lips I take my will; 
 For long I woo'd before I won, 
 
 My lovely lass of Preston Mill. 
 
 3. 
 
 Mute was the wind, soft dropp'd the dew. 
 
 From heav'n's brow bright smiled the moon; 
 Flam'd all the stars, a silver mist 
 
 O'er-canopied the hills aboon. 
 Ye might have heard our beating hearts. 
 
 Our mixing breaths, all was so still; 
 Till golden-lock 'd Aurora rose, 
 
 Peer to the lass of Preston- Mill. 
 
 4. 
 
 Were she aa idol, all of gold, 
 
 Had I the eye of worldish care; 
 My worship were not more devout, 
 
 I could not love the maiden mair. 
 Till death's cold dew-drop dims my eye. 
 
 And ray love-throbbing heart lies still ; 
 Thine every wish that warms my soul. 
 
 My lovely lass of Preston-Milh
 
 12 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 THE LOCK OF RAVEJ^ HAIR. 
 SONG VI. 
 
 1. 
 
 X HATE a lock of raven hair, 
 
 I have a white silk glove ; 
 And they are richly rain'd with tears 
 
 Of sad despairing love. 
 With soul-warm kisses on my lips, 
 
 To seal the true love token ; 
 And many a heaven-attested vow, 
 
 Faithless all, and broken. 
 
 How dear was once her lillie band, 
 
 That propp'd her rosie cheek ; 
 Dear was the blink of her black eye. 
 
 Which speechless love did speak. 
 How dear to me her lisping tongue, 
 
 Confessing love so meek ; 
 And dearly she dwells within this heart, 
 
 Which her neglect doth break. 
 
 3. 
 
 Her lowland plaid is laid aside, 
 Her white-wool hose and shoon; 
 
 O'er her shoulders flows a gold weft veil. 
 And long grass-sweeping gown.
 
 9C0TTSH SONGS. 13 
 
 No more she pours the s'weet Scotch 89ng, 
 
 Wild warbling through the grove; 
 Nor in sweet rumination strays ^ 
 
 To meet her faithful love. 
 
 O she may show those links of gold, 
 
 Hung o'er her bosom bare; 
 And she may show those diamond spraings, 
 
 Which truss her inky hair. 
 And she may show her new domains, 
 
 So richly laid and fair ; 
 And she may show her heart to her God, 
 
 What broken vows are there. 
 
 LOFE JJVD SOJfETHlJVG MAIR, 
 SONG VII. 
 
 I. 
 
 As I walk'd down the street yestreen, 
 Up came to me a comely quean ; 
 A golden sprig held up her hair, 
 Her white breast heav'd divinely baret 
 But, a roguish blink of her blue e'e. 
 Spake love and something mair to me.
 
 1,4 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Sweet smiled the maid, and whisper'd lownc, 
 " You're kindly welcome, sir, to town; 
 Have }ou got gold, or white monie, 
 To drink a pint of wine with me." 
 Her eyes 'mongst amber tresses fair. 
 Said welcome love and something mair. 
 
 3. 
 
 ** Nor gold have I, nor silver fine, 
 To give for cups of rosie wine:" 
 She loosM a purse with silver band, 
 And show'd the red gold in her hand. 
 While love said laughing in her e'e, 
 Come take a homeward walk with me. 
 
 4. 
 
 She wet her lips with sparkling wine. 
 And press'd their rosie dew to mine; 
 While warmer as her sweet lips grew, 
 Around my neck her arms she threw* 
 I locked her in love's dearest grips. 
 My soul sat panting on my lips. 
 
 Soft was the couch, as thistle downe, 
 Where sat the comely damsel on ; 
 Blush *d in her cheeks the rosie wine, 
 And oh ! her arms were wond'rous kin'. 
 And well I trow her amorous e'e. 
 Delighted swam ia dew with me.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 15 
 
 6. 
 
 Give me a pint of rosie wine, 
 
 With such a damsel frank and kin% 
 
 Then might the Kirk 'tween yule and yule. 
 
 Lead me to her black^pennance stool ; 
 
 Such tribulation for to dree, 
 
 Would make kind love more sweet to me. 
 
 THE RED RED ROSE. 
 
 SONG VIII. 
 
 I. 
 
 Were my true love yon violet, 
 
 So fragrant-breatb'd, in garden green ; 
 And I the morn-arousing lark, 
 
 I'd nestle in its breast at e'en ; 
 There slumb'ring in ray balmy bow'r, 
 
 My plumes rain'd bright with honey weet, 
 I'd wake with perfume on my wings, 
 
 And incense heaven with earthly sweet. 
 
 8. 
 
 Were my true love yon golden gean, 
 Hung sunward mid the morning dew ; 
 
 And I a thrush to spread my plumes, 
 Fond o'er'tand tend it where it grew }
 
 16 
 
 SCOTISH SOXGS. 
 
 Drop-ripe I'd bear it far away. 
 
 To some sweet spot untrod by men ; 
 
 Then sow't and cherish't 'neath ray breast. 
 And wake the comely plant agen. 
 
 3. 
 
 * O were ray love yon red red rose, 
 
 Gay flow'ring o'er the castle wa', 
 And I a drop of gloaming dew, 
 
 Into its bonnie breast to fa' ; 
 O there beyond expression blest 
 
 I'd feast on fragrance all the night, 
 Seal'd in the silk, saft faulds to rest 
 
 Till fley'd away by morning light. '* 
 
 4. 
 
 How can I in my peasant cap, 
 
 Hope for to place yon princely gem. 
 Or tryste to wooe the twilight star. 
 
 New woke on heaven's diadem ; 
 For I am but a stripling tree, 
 
 Placed on a parched plain to pine : 
 And my love is a sainted flower, 
 
 By Pilgrim dropp'd on holy shrine.
 
 SCOTISII SONGS. 17 
 
 JUnr WITH THE ROSIE LIPS. 
 SONG IX. 
 
 X HE birds wooe ia spring time, 
 
 And pair ia summer green. 
 But I love aye the bonnie lass, 
 
 I kiss'd so kind yestreen: 
 For kissing comes from kindrioss, 
 
 The kirk can ne'er say na', 
 So I'll kiss my Mary's rosie lipi, 
 
 Though ail the world saw. 
 
 2. 
 
 A charming armful is her waist, 
 
 Laced in her silken gown, 
 And beauty ne'er with such a foot, 
 
 Bepress'd the gowans down ; 
 She's blythsome as the new-flown thrush, 
 
 In lonesome glcn or shaw. 
 And willing are her rosie lips, 
 
 Which I love best of a'. 
 
 3. 
 
 Let dames bright-stoled the transports shuir, 
 
 Of love's adoring grips, 
 And deem the balmy breeze too rude. 
 
 That wooes their lady-lips, 
 C
 
 18 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 But give me in love's kindly clasps, 
 
 Beneath the bloomy haw, 
 My Mary with the rosie lips, 
 
 I love her best of a'. 
 
 4. 
 
 Yestreen she saunter'd 'mongst the woods, 
 
 On Nith's green banks alone ; 
 Mute listening with euraptur'd ear, 
 
 The ring-doves amorous moan. 
 I led my dew-lock'd maiden blythe. 
 
 Where beds of lillies blaw ; 
 And oft, ere rose the moon, she vow'd 
 
 She loved me best of a'. 
 
 AWAKE MY LOFE. 
 SONG X. 
 
 1. 
 
 Awake my love, ere morning's ray 
 Throws off night's weed of pilgrim gray ; 
 Erewhile the hare denn'd close from view, 
 Licks from her fleece the clover dew ; 
 Or wild swan claps her snowy wings, 
 By hunter's rous'd, at secret springs^
 
 SCOTISH SOKGS. 19 
 
 Or birds upon the bought awake 
 la song, till all the forests shake." 
 
 2. 
 
 She waken'd, and unclos'd her eye, 
 Like star new woke in frozen sky ; 
 Dark curling locks her cheeks enclose, 
 Like fleece of thyme grown round a rose ; 
 She corab'd the comely clusters down, 
 She lac'd her jupes, and clasp'd her shoon} 
 And from the cot, by Preston-burn, 
 Issued the rival light of morn. 
 
 3. 
 
 Forth as we walk'd love-list'niog round^ 
 Harmonious waken'd rural sound ; 
 The speckled lark, abreast by mate, 
 Career'd in song for heaven's gate : 
 From stripling tree replied the thrush, 
 The goldspink chirm'd from dewy buibj 
 And plover, fed on heather crop. 
 Called from the misty mountain top. 
 
 4. 
 
 " Sweet, said the maiden, while the day 
 Brightens to gold from silver gray. 
 To witness wood, and hedge, and brake, 
 Instinct with soul of song awake ; 
 The smoke ascend in slender wreath. 
 From cott^es erabower'd beneath ; 
 Where the blythe mower hastes along, 
 With glistering scythe and rural song." 
 CS
 
 kO SCOTISn SdNGS. 
 
 IVfy lovely Jean, and dost thou mark, 
 The moral note of mounting lark ; 
 Tak'stlhou from Nature's counsellor tongue, 
 The warning precept of her song ? 
 Each bird that shakes the dewy grove. 
 Warms his wild note with nuptial love ; 
 Brute, bird, and bee, with gracious sound. 
 Whisper the sweets of wedlock round, 
 
 6. 
 
 Red blush'd she as a fresh sprung flower, 
 Upblossora'd through the morning show'rj 
 Untied her snood of sea-green fold, 
 Bedropp'd with grass-hoppers of gold: 
 Her rosie palm she laid in mine, 
 And blush'd, *' Sweet laddie I am thine;" 
 In native loveliness she shone, 
 A feast fit for the gods alone. 
 
 THE TURKISH MAID. 
 SONG XI. 
 
 1. 
 
 X HE sinking sun's celestial red. 
 Yet trembled on the mountain's head \ 
 Refresh'd in'dew, the lover star 
 Rejoic'd in westewi skies afar.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 2l 
 
 The moon o'er eastern mountain proud, 
 Brighten'd, but broke not through the cloud ; 
 While Christian bondsmcu, doora'd to pain, 
 Of freedom dream'd 'neath Pajnim's chain. 
 
 Hark! 'tis the Sultan's secret door, 
 And list that footfall on the floor ; 
 And mark a maid, whose raiments' fold 
 Is bright with gems, and stiff with gold : 
 She waves her hand, meanwhile her breath 
 Holds stedfast as the tongue of death ; 
 And her blue eyes divinely glow. 
 Twin stars woke in that heaven her brow. 
 
 3. 
 
 Backwards her raven curls she throws. 
 O'er shoulders white as sifted snows ; 
 When rising through the evening's gloom, 
 Peers knight with Scotland's plaid and plume, 
 The silver-bearded thistle shows, 
 Companion'd by the lovely rose; 
 And in the bonnets circlet bound* 
 His front of heaven's divinest round. 
 
 4. 
 
 No whisper now, 'tis not the grove. 
 Where bashful maiden breathes of love j 
 Nor lonesome walk, where damsel vain 
 Of conquest, warms and cools again. 
 One whisper give, and from the sheath, 
 The warder's brand leaps whet for death;
 
 t2 SCOTISH 90N0. 
 
 One moment's more deJay would prove. 
 The martyrdom of faithful love. 
 
 5. 
 
 She pauses with a smother'd sigh, 
 And backward casts her lovely eye ) 
 But, with the filial reasoner strove, 
 The dear successful wrestler love. 
 The tears which in their founts awake, 
 Pled eloquent for parent's sake ; 
 She leaves to gather with the dew, 
 And to her lovers arms she flew. 
 
 6. 
 
 Scarce had her lips of opening rose. 
 Time in delicious kiss to close ; 
 When Turkish crests, in evening beam, 
 Disastrous shone like planet's gleam. 
 As fountain lilly moved with rain, 
 Silent she stood, then shook amain ; 
 Till the best heart's blood wet the sand, 
 That ever throbb'd in heathen land. 
 
 7. 
 
 All tumult is and darkness now, 
 But hearken each descending blow; 
 And voices from the beach beneath, 
 Faint muttering prayers, in throes of death. 
 And listen to that dashing oar. 
 Distinct, now fainter, on the shore; 
 And chieftain's, stretch'd in gory sand, 
 Curse Scotisb arm, and Scotish brand.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 2S 
 
 8. 
 
 The moon from scarfing clouds has broke, 
 The ocean reeks with silver smoke; 
 And mark yon ship, with gallant sweep, 
 Careering mistress of the deep: 
 Britannia perch'd with spear on prow. 
 Is taming the rebel surge below $ 
 And in her warlike shadow laid, 
 The Scotish Knight and Turkish Maid. 
 
 LADY JEAir. 
 SONG XII. 
 
 J. LOVE a Lady fair, but to love her ah ! how Tain, 
 
 Too high is her degree for a peasant to attain, 
 
 Too rich the blood which swelleth and warmelh every veia, 
 
 To mix with one so mean ! 
 Red rosie is her cheek, dark is her beaming eye, 
 And sweep her amber tresses o'er her snowy bosom high, 
 A pillow far too princely for the toil-wet cheek to lie, 
 
 Of a peasant lad at e'en O. 
 
 2. 
 
 When gle&ms the summer sun on the Sunday morning faifi 
 At kirk I mark her bending her lovely neck in prayer, 
 A Lovlier lustre wears her cheek, diviaec^is hr air}
 
 24 SCOTISII SONGS. 
 
 Her miud to heaven is soaring : 
 But, palpitates my bosom in fonder ecstasy, 
 When her bright-beaming eye glances secret on me, 
 Awe-smit I stoop my head to the fair divinity, 
 
 Her presence meek adoring. 
 
 3. 
 I've saunler'd ere the sun rose her habitation round. 
 The field where walked her lillie foot I deemed it holy 
 
 ground, 
 And I hied me to the arbour with honey-suckle bound, 
 
 Where she had sat yestreen O. 
 I rais'd her golden rose top, borne down with balmy dew. 
 Each fragrant flower I blessed, bright blooming as it grew, 
 And my arms in holy ardor around her seat I threw, 
 And wept for Lady Jean O. 
 
 4. 
 
 Oft 'mongst the yellow broom by her dwelling I have lain. 
 When homeward hied the cotter from the sweltry summer 
 
 plain, 
 Whilst the red sinking sun on the casement cast a stain. 
 
 Of the room where she doth lie O. 
 Long sat the lovely damsel lone ruminating there, 
 Then open'd her while casement, and amidst the dewy air, 
 Wav'd back her amber tresses with her lillie fingers bare. 
 And glanc'd on me her eye 0. 
 
 5. 
 
 Oh dear I deem she loves me at twilight's pleasant hour, 
 Descended the fair damsel from her father's turret tow'r. 
 And rapture-sroittea met me by the green lonesome bow'r,
 
 SCOTIsa SONGS. <W 
 
 Ail in the bright moon's presence : 
 ground my glowing foreliead she placed a chaplet fair, 
 Enwoven with two tresses of her long descending hair; 
 Vll worship't as an idol in my bosom everraair, 
 
 With my whole heart's obesience. 
 
 THE LAIRD'S DAUGHTER. 
 SONG XIU. 
 
 AjOUD crew the gray cock, as the morning awoke. 
 
 For heaven soar'd the laverock; 
 The hazle groves rang with the blythe merle's sang. 
 
 On fairie bank'd Bounaivrock: 
 When wbisper'd a iad in a fair lady's ear, 
 ** The golden lock'd morning begins for to peer. 
 And my bare breast must sunder Nith's silver current dear, 
 
 Ere the sun shines on Caerlaverock." 
 
 9. 
 
 ** It is the lammas moon, clomb the dark clouds abooa, 
 
 That tempts the groves to waken ; 
 Or the flame's ruddy streak from Burnswark's bright peak. 
 
 That for the morn is taken. 
 For heed not the laverock, he lies of the raornt 
 Hark! the mavis sits mute on the binssoroing thorn,
 
 a6 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Nor the am'rous tongued craik from the green-bladed corn. 
 The mornins: dew has shaken." 
 
 * lovesorae lady, take thy white arm from my neck. 
 
 And mark the light returning; 
 Through the casement a streak drops on thy rosie cheek, 
 
 Of the golden hue of morning. 
 Adown the greenwood brake my pathway I'll take. 
 Before thy proud father or kinsmen awake, 
 Else the two fairest eyes that ere shone for man's sake, 
 
 Might dim themselves with mourning." 
 
 4. 
 
 *' Let the birds shake the grove, and the laverock above 
 
 Midst golden clouds repose him; 
 Let the bird take his strain, while in love's pleasant pats 
 
 I press thee to my bosom. 
 It is not in titles, nor grandeur, nor pow'r, 
 So virtuous a portion of mind for my dow'r, 
 I search 'd thro' noble weeds, and I found a humble flow'r 
 
 Of a richer fairer blossom." 
 
 5. 
 
 So spake the fair dame, soon the sun's ruddy flame 
 
 'Gan town and tow'r illumine; 
 From the sky's silver road, the lark to the sod 
 
 His fragrant breast came pluming. 
 Atid see with his locks loosened bright to the day, 
 Leaps the white-footed lad down the bloom-cover'd way 
 And 8under.-> the Nith, that from banking to brae 
 
 la torrent might is foaming.
 
 SCOTISH SONOK. 27 
 
 THE SECRBT. 
 SONG XIV. 
 
 ^T eve I go on pilgrim tour. 
 To yon balmy budding bo\/r. 
 To see green Nitbsdale's fairest flow'r, 
 
 Fresh in beauty's blossom { 
 My face is flush'd with tru-loTe flame, 
 Yet I'll not tell my fair one's name. 
 
 2. 
 
 Sore I hate the tell-tale light. 
 Dear I lore the grim midnight, 
 Clasping of my heart's delight 
 Until the morning waken; 
 Ruddy on her cheeks of shame. 
 Yet will I secret hold her name. 
 
 She has oxen, houses, laud, 
 'Neath her father's high commaadj 
 And a fair and willing hand, 
 
 To plight the sacred token 
 Of a spouse's dearest claim; 
 Yet I'll not tell my fair one's name.
 
 tS SCOTISH SOXGS. 
 
 THE JHOURJVIJVG LADY. 
 SONG XV. 
 
 1. 
 
 J3RIGHT shone the birks with morning dew. 
 
 And ruddy hung the clust'ring rowan; 
 Sweet smell'd the clover from the holm. 
 
 And clear the wave of Clouden flowing; 
 With me came forth the cloudless sun, 
 
 The forest lops and streams adorning; 
 When by Lincluden's tow'rs a dame, 
 
 Disturb'd with sighs the silent morning. 
 
 2. 
 
 On rosie palm her cheek reclin'd. 
 
 As down she press'd the clover blossom ; 
 And through her hanks of raven hair 
 
 Her fair front shone and snowy bosom ; 
 Tear-wet her uncoraforled check, 
 
 Its rosie lustre fast was losing ; 
 And sad her eyes appear'd, like stars 
 
 Grown sick with golden morn disclosing. 
 
 3. 
 ** Fair com'st thou like a bridegroom forth. 
 
 Sweet sua rejoicing 'mongst the blossom ; 
 Cold night-drops cluster 'raang my locks. 
 
 And colder dreep adowa my bosom.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. J5 
 
 The sward anointing by the grove. 
 Where sleeps the best and truest lover; 
 
 The noblest heart, and purest mind, 
 That ere the bloomy turf did cover. 
 
 " No daisy soon shall blossom there. 
 
 Nor thyme with fragrant fleece be creeping* 
 I'll wear them with my nightly knees, 
 
 I'll drown them with my daily weeping. 
 I never lov'd a heart but one. 
 
 Yet loot that heart for me be broken; 
 I got but one token of my love, 
 
 And oh ! that was a bloody token. 
 
 '* I'll wear no gold sprig in my locks, 
 
 Nor ruby ring, nor diamond lacing; 
 I've lost a gem of heavenly worth. 
 
 And nought can be that gem replacing. 
 My love he was a bonnie flow'r, 
 
 That blossom'd forth in humble splendour; 
 But, I broke down the flow'r I lov'd. 
 
 And trode it 'neath my foot of grandeur. 
 
 6. 
 
 *' Oh had I wet his cheeks with tears. 
 Which now on his lone grave I'm shedding; 
 
 Oh had I pour'd my soul out thus, 
 When love bis clay-cold cheeks did redden ;
 
 so SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 My love-seat ne'er had been this bow'r, 
 Nor ray bridal couch this grassy coyer j 
 
 Nor the bridegroom who maun lie to Bay breasts. 
 Had been the sods which hap my lover." 
 
 THE F^LSE OJVE. 
 SONG XVI. 
 
 1. 
 
 JJeAR I lov'd the bright-lock'd dame, 
 
 As light of heaven to my e'e; 
 Little I reck'd her rosie lips, 
 
 With vows of falseness raov'd to me. 
 And oh ! I deera'd her heaving breast, 
 Was starap'd with a celestial crest. 
 That virtue was the motto press'd 
 By the cold hand of chastity ; 
 But, oh ! on gross and base alloy, 
 Impress'd was heaven's most goodly die 
 
 2. 
 
 Clasp'd in mine arms, devoutly she 
 
 Repos'd upon my breast her cheek; 
 
 And in a rapture-rousing strain, 
 
 Of love and virtoe vpiould she speak.
 
 SCOTIsn SONGS. 31 
 
 And oh ! impureness of the mind. 
 Could in her speech no shelter find. 
 Nor he who left his damsel kind, 
 
 A fairer maiden's love to seek : 
 But, oh ! those thoughts of glorious strain, 
 Lived in a dwelling gross and vain. 
 
 3. 
 
 Six weary months I've nuraber'd by, 
 
 Since she fell from her track so fair; 
 
 And though an outcast from my heart. 
 Her once-loved image linger's there. 
 
 But like a silver fount parch'd dry. 
 
 Is love when hatred fills the eye, 
 
 A rough unseemly track doth lie. 
 
 Where pour'd the current sweet and clear : 
 
 Yet still one vagrant drop or two, 
 
 Come peering their chrystai sluices thro'. 
 
 OH MOUJVT ^JVD COME. 
 SONG XVII. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh mount and come, mount and make you ready. 
 Come my lovesome dame, and be a captain's lady ; 
 Pleasant in spring time to hear the blackbirds whistle, 
 Bagpipes biytber lilt 'neatb the untrodden thistle.
 
 ^t. SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 2. 
 
 When sprigbtlj trumpets sound, and pennons are a stream* 
 Stand on a hill top, and see my claymore gleaming; [ing. 
 There thy rosie palm, or hearing busora show me, 
 Wight he'n wield his brnd that disnae droop below rae. 
 
 3. 
 
 And when our Scotish swords slill wars wild commotion. 
 Homewards shall we come, sounding o'er the ocean ; 
 She turned of lillie hue, syne like a rose bud ruddie, 
 And sunk into his arras, " I'll be a Captain's Lady." 
 
 THE BOJVJVIE LJSS. 
 SONG XYIII. 
 
 CjtREEN rise Dalgoper hills, o'er the low Talley flow'ring. 
 Unclosing bright the buds when the summer cloud is 
 
 show'ring; 
 Fair bloom the fruit-tree tops, where the birds are para- 
 
 mouring, 
 Beside them lives -the bonnie lass whom I am adoring. 
 
 Many lordly pilgrims at her fair feet are bowing. 
 Many a heart subduing pang they mann thole whilst suin^
 
 8C0TISH SONGS. 33 
 
 Far distant maun I stand with ray peasant wooing, 
 She is an anointed flow'r, not for my pouing. 
 
 3. 
 Were I but a cowslip, my gold tops unsealing, 
 By her fair forehead kiss'd, when to God she is kneeling ; 
 Rich dew from her eyes for to fall in my blossom, 
 That sun ne'er arose that would drie't on my bosom. 
 
 TO JE^JV IJV HE^FEJ^\ 
 
 SONG XIX. 
 
 JJaLSWINTON holms are soon in bloom, 
 And early are her woods in green ; 
 
 Her clover walks are honey-breathed. 
 And pleasant riv'lels reek between: 
 
 For lonesome lovers they are meet, 
 
 Who saunter forth with tentless feet, 
 
 The gowan bending 'mang the weet, 
 
 When evening draws her shady screen; 
 
 Retired from the noting eye, 
 
 Unloosing all the seals of joy.
 
 34 SCOTISH SOITGS. 
 
 2. 
 
 Far in a deep untrodden nook, 
 
 A fragrant hawthorn there is seenj 
 
 Beside it trills a babbling brook, 
 
 That loops the banks of primrose green. 
 
 When spring wooes forth its blossom fair, 
 
 In solemn gait I hie me there, 
 
 And kneeling unto God in prayer, 
 I call upon thy shade, my Jean; 
 
 And soon I feel as thou wert near. 
 
 And heavenly whispers meet mine car. 
 
 3. 
 
 I treasure all thy tokens love; 
 
 Thy ring, thy raven fillet fair. 
 Which curled o'er thy blooming cheek, 
 
 And swan-white neck beyond compare; 
 Bright as it glisters with my tears, 
 The beauteous cheek again appears, 
 O'er which I passed the silver sheers, 
 
 And cut the sacred pledge I wear: 
 Drenched from my troubled eyes with weet, 
 I dry it with my bosom's heat. 
 
 4. 
 
 Oft thou descendest in my dreams. 
 
 And seem'st by my bedside to stand ; 
 
 Around thy waist, and on thy cheek, 
 Are marks of a celestial hand :
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 35 
 
 Divinely wakening I see, 
 
 The glances of thy dove-like e'e, 
 
 Which, smiling, thou dost bend on me, 
 
 To go with thee to angel's land : 
 My arms outstretching thee to take, 
 I sleep of heaven, on earth I wake. 
 
 MY MJV KIJVD THIJVG, 
 SONG XX. 
 
 1. 
 
 O HAP rae frae the.cauld blast, 
 
 My ain kind Jean; 
 The moon has stray'd amang the storm, 
 
 The stars are blawn up blin' : 
 The snaw o'er the hill-top. 
 
 Comes thick in the win' ; 
 
 rise and let me in. 
 And thowe me in thy bosom, 
 
 My ain kind thing. 
 
 8' 
 listen to the wild swan, 
 
 Forsaking the spring, / 
 
 And rustling with the ice-sleet 
 He plumes from his wing: 
 D2
 
 36 SCOTISH SOKGS. 
 
 The small bird's frozen on the perch, 
 Nae mair to lilt and sing, 
 Or awake you in the spring ; 
 
 Oh! pity then your leal love, 
 My aiu kind thing. 
 
 For love sings mair sweetly 
 Than bird upon the bough; 
 
 Blows lovelier than the violet 
 The verdure blooming through ; 
 
 And thrives amid the mirkest storm, 
 As daisy 'mang May-dew ; 
 Put forth thy hand and pu'. 
 
 And plant it in thy bosom, 
 For ever for to grow. 
 
 4. 
 
 Like fair Aurora's star 
 
 Rising through the morning smoke, 
 She rose, and from her fingers 
 
 Let fall her golden roke : 
 Up to her secret chamber. 
 
 By the heavy tempest shook, 
 
 The duteous lad she took. 
 And warm'd him in her bosom 
 
 Till the winter sun awoke.
 
 SCOTISH 807TGS. 3* 
 
 J E A jr 1 E. 
 SONG XXI. 
 
 W ERE my fair Jean yon ruddy rose. 
 
 Disclosing on its fragrant tree, 
 Its golden lips I ivould unseal, 
 
 Transform 'd into a little bee ; 
 There murmuring biythe in balmy room, 
 rd richly feast midst honey bloom. 
 
 2. 
 
 Or were I but yon little bird, 
 
 Sweet chaunting on the scented thorn, 
 rd warble round her window fair, 
 
 And wake her at the smile of morn ; 
 Then flutter o'er her bosom bare, 
 And perch amid her raven hair. 
 
 3. 
 
 Or could I be the sun's first beam. 
 Now breaking o'er the upland fell, 
 
 A ray I'd through her casement pour, 
 And on her snowy bosom dwell ; 
 
 Her rosie lips and forehead kiss, 
 
 And wake her with my warming bliM. 
 
 309254
 
 38 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Mr JV^JVIE 0! 
 
 SONG XXII. 
 
 1. 
 
 XvED rowes the Nith 'tween bank and brae, 
 
 Mirk is the night, and rainie 0; 
 Though heaven and earth should mix in storm, 
 
 I'll go and see my Nanie 0. 
 My Nanie O, my Nanie O, 
 
 My kind and winsome Nanie O ; 
 She holds my heart in love's dear bands, 
 
 And none can do't but Nanie O. 
 
 2. 
 
 Her mother locks her chamber door. 
 
 And says to wooe I maunie ; 
 But, she cannot lock the dearest part, 
 
 The heart of my own Nanie O. 
 My Nanie 0, my Nanie 0, 
 
 My leal and loving Nanie O; 
 I broke through bolts, and bars, and locks, 
 
 And won the heart of Nanie O. 
 
 3. 
 
 In preaching time, so meek she stands. 
 
 So saintly, and so bonnie ; 
 I cannot get one glimpse of grace. 
 
 For thieving looks at Nanie 0.
 
 8C0TISH SOKGS. 39 
 
 My Nanie 0, my Nanie O, 
 
 The world's in love with Nanie ; 
 That heart it is not worth the wear, 
 
 That wadnae love my Nanie O ! 
 
 My breast can scarce contain my heart, 
 
 When dancing she moves finely ; 
 I guess what heaven is by her eyes, 
 
 They sparkle so divinely O. 
 My Nanie 0, my Nanie 0, 
 
 The pride of Nithsdaie's Nanie O ; 
 Love looks from 'neath her long brown hair, 
 
 And says, " I dwell with Nanie 0." 
 
 5. 
 
 Tell not thou star at gray-day light. 
 
 O'er Tinwald top so bonnie 0, 
 My footsteps mang the morning dew. 
 
 When coming from my Nanie O. 
 My Nanie O, my Nanie O, 
 
 None ken of me with Nanie 0} 
 The stars and moon may tell't abooD, 
 
 They winna wrong my Nanie O.
 
 40 SCOTISH SOITGS. 
 
 THE FAIR-LOCKED YOUTH. 
 
 SONG XXIII. 
 
 I. 
 
 VV HERE is he gone, my fair-lock'd youth. 
 Yestreen he came not to my bow'r ; 
 
 While weary watch'd I, till the lark 
 
 Sprang heavenwards in harmonious tour; 
 
 The deer leap'd from his mountain lair. 
 
 As I wrung the rime-dew from my hair. 
 
 2. 
 
 At midnight came my father home. 
 No kindred looks remeraber'd he ; 
 
 But, smote the room door with his foot, 
 And gaur'd the bolts and binges flee ; 
 
 As hurriedly he strode along, 
 
 My name was frequent on his tongue. 
 
 3. 
 
 This morn his look was troublous wild. 
 He wrung and wash'd his gory hand; 
 
 He strove to cleanse his blood-laced vest. 
 And free from gore his crooked brand; ' 
 
 And much he strove, but strove in vain. 
 
 To free it from the deadly stain.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 41 
 
 4. 
 O deadly tokens 1 hare got. 
 
 Which bode the sundering with my loTCj 
 And more than mortal signs I've seen, 
 
 Which earthly fondness doth reprove : 
 The leaping of my heart was still, 
 Yestreea while I iook'd on -vale and hill ; 
 
 Red sprang the fiery meteors bright, 
 Self-kindled on the marsh afar ; 
 
 And bright career'd, o'er Burnswark peak. 
 The moon on her refulgent car ; 
 
 Round her the stars' adoring train, 
 
 Sowed all the land with fiery rain : 
 
 When lo ! from Nith's wood-crested deeps, 
 A blaze of glorious light there came ; 
 
 Upflash'd it, so transcendant bright. 
 The moon and stars were quench'd in flame ; 
 
 The glories of the earth retire, 
 
 While heaven receives the fount of fire.
 
 42 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 THE MAID I LOFE. 
 SONG XXIV. 
 
 1. 
 
 J. HE sinking sun smiles biythelj', 
 
 Amang the green-wood knowes ; 
 Where the honey bee is hanging 
 
 At the lilly and the rose: 
 And the new flown thrushes, 
 
 Deep in the bloomy howes, 
 Sing kindly to my Nancie, 
 
 While she drives home the ewes. 
 
 S. 
 
 My love's a bonnie bird, 
 
 In a summer morning flown. 
 When first on balmy wind it tries 
 
 Its wings of gorline down : 
 I have a golden dwelling 
 
 For to hold it in the town ; 
 And may its song be pleasant, 
 
 As the sun sinks down. 
 
 3. 
 
 White beam her neck and forehead, 
 Aneath her links of brown ; 
 
 The smiling of her bonnie eyes, 
 Seems new from heaven stown.
 
 SCOTISH SOKOS. 43 
 
 She is a fragrant pear tree, 
 New to its stature grown; 
 
 Beneath its pleasant shade, 
 I could aye lie down. 
 
 4. 
 
 How4)lest is the morn sun, 
 
 That keeks in on thee ; 
 How blest too the small bird. 
 
 Which wakes thee from the tree. 
 When I seek the grace of heaven, 
 
 I will seek It in thine e'e ; 
 For if it beams nae there, I wot 
 
 On earth it cannot be. 
 
 f ASHIOJ^ABLE S I ^^, 
 SONG XXV. 
 
 1. 
 
 JDY my Xady's side's a golden watch. 
 On my Lady's breast's a diamond broach ; 
 Her locks are tied with ruby knot, 
 And a silver tass'led petticoat. 
 
 But, my Lord can leave those garments gay, 
 Those glistring locks with trinkets laden, 
 
 For golden tresses flowing free. 
 And graceful coats of hauslock plaiden.
 
 44 BCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 2. 
 
 My lady's shoes are silver shod, 
 And silken hosen seam'd with gowd ; 
 More riches wears o'er her e'e-bree, 
 Than would wadset any baronie. 
 
 But, Nancie's leg, so white and bare. 
 My Lord love's better than my Lady's; 
 
 And he loves mair her golden hair, " 
 
 Which two love-laughing eyes o'ershadows, 
 
 3. 
 
 My Lady 'noints with dews her cheek, 
 And sweetly lisps when she doth speak; 
 And scarce will stoop to tie her shoon. 
 So proud she eyes the sky aboon. 
 
 My Lord thinks mair of Nancie's cheek, 
 Which like a wine-dropp'd rose so red is; 
 
 Thinks more of Nancie's sweet Scotch tongue^ 
 Than he does of his English Lady's. 
 
 My Lady's bed is thistle down. 
 With purple hangings fringed roun' ; 
 But my Lord loves mair the beds of brekan, 
 With Nancie to his bosom taking. 
 
 My Lady plays on her spinnet. 
 But, Nancie's like a mavis lilting; 
 
 My Lord adores her folding song, 
 When from the grass her coats she's kilting.
 
 SCOTISH sovos. 45 
 
 6. 
 
 My Lady's jimp about the waist, 
 
 One toaist might span her whea she's laced } 
 
 But, jentie Nancie grit is grown. 
 
 And loosely does she lace her gown : 
 
 No more she trips to bow'r and fauld. 
 Her hair no more iu winsome brede i> ; 
 
 But, my Lord has rain'd her locks with gold, 
 And laced her bosen like my Lady's. 
 
 COJ^tE WOOE ME AT YOUR LEISURE. 
 SONG XXVI. 
 
 As I walk'd through yon fragrant grove. 
 
 The harvest sun sunk weary ; 
 When blooming 'mang the flow'ry banks, 
 
 Came buxom Bess, my deary. 
 Deep in my heart her lillie foot 
 
 Beat love's delicious measure ; 
 And blythsome smiled her full blue eyes, 
 
 " Come wooe me at your leisure." 
 
 . 
 
 Her lovesome shape, and rosie cheek, 
 Confess'd my winsome charmer}
 
 46 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 The very sounding of her foot, 
 My heart set throbbing warmer. 
 
 Loose to the wind, her hazle hair 
 Hung want'ning at its pleasure. 
 
 While love said laughing in her looks, 
 " Come wooe me at your leisure." 
 
 Mute, rapture strook, her hand I took, 
 
 Down by yon murm'ring river ; 
 That happy hour, in shady bower. 
 
 Shall I forget it? Never. 
 Bright woke the sun from golden clouds, 
 
 And gazed with conscious pleasure ; 
 While blythesome blink 'd my lovesome Bess, 
 
 *' Come wooe me at your leisure." 
 
 THE BROKE JV HEJRT. 
 
 SONG XXVII. 
 
 X HE primroses will hlow in springy* 
 The merles pair, and linnets sing. 
 And joy return to every things 
 To every thing but me :
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 47 
 
 The break of the leaf, the rising floVr, 
 The song of birds, the fresh'ning sliow'r. 
 Once o'er my mind held heavenly pow'r, 
 But now they're lost on me. 
 
 2. 
 
 I'm fading away with the fa' o' the leaf, 
 I'm wearing down with mortal grief, 
 My heart to every joy is prief. 
 
 Woe's grown acquaint with me : 
 I loved a lady fair and meek, 
 The bud of the rose just 'gan to break. 
 Death pluck'd the blossom from her check. 
 
 And broke this heart to me. 
 
 Now who will keep my stately tow'rs. 
 My forests green, and budding bow'rs, 
 Rank spring the weeds amang the flow'rs. 
 
 Where my love wont to be: 
 Unreap'd the corn for me may fa', 
 Unpull'd the rose for me may blaw; 
 And owls roost in my painted ha*. 
 
 And breed unharra'd by roe.. 
 
 4. 
 
 The white lillie is sprung again. 
 The daisy buds 'mang sunny rain, 
 The small birds with melodious strain. 
 Green woods congratulate :
 
 48 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 But, nor green wood, nor bird on wing. 
 To rae ray peace of mind can bring ; 
 Soon o'er ray grave may gay bird sing. 
 And woo his merry mate. 
 
 THE TELLOW-HMRED LADDIE, 
 
 SONG XXVIII. 
 
 1. 
 
 J. HE hind berries blossom, the haw tree's new blown, 
 The woodlark's gray-gorlines are feather'd and flown; 
 The black coclc crows crouse from the hill's heathy brow, 
 The mavis lilts love in the valley below : 
 The corn's in the shot-blade, the meadow's new raawn. 
 The doe on the mountain's at sport with the fawn; 
 While my winsome Jean is a bughting her ewes," 
 Sang the yellow-hair'd laddie, amang the shiel knowes. 
 
 2. 
 
 The winsome young lassie look'd up from the howe. 
 
 When she heard her love's voice sounding over the knowe ; 
 
 And loudly she lilted reply to the strain. 
 
 The lark heard in heaven, and answer'd again : 
 
 ** The sun blythe awak'ning, says, lassie begin, 
 
 Bui, my ewes are new shorn, and they winna bugbt in ; 
 
 In clusters Ihey link o'er the lillie white lea, 
 
 O yellaw-hair'd laddie come bught thera for me.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 49 
 
 " Yestreen in the gloaming gaun hamc from the loan, 
 My black locks hung glistering with dew newly faun. 
 As loudly I sang through the gold waving broom, 
 The yellow-hair'd laddie maun be my bridegroom :' 
 When out lap my lad from a bush of green thyme, 
 With his ripe lips delightful warm closing on mine; 
 Say ing, ' bed with me bride,' while my heart rapture shook, 
 Maist lap through my side at each kiss that he took." 
 
 4. 
 
 The grouse from the heath top loud-clamoring upsprang, 
 As the yellow-hair'd laddie came whistling alang; 
 First bounded his whitc-bosom'd dog through the broom. 
 And next wav'd his plaid and his blue bonnet plume : 
 And his long yellow hair flung in locks by the wind. 
 Like a sunbeam of Autumn shone dazzling behind; 
 While sparkled the bright silver clasps of his shoon. 
 As from the knowe head to the bughts he ran down. 
 
 5. 
 
 The scythe on the grass swathe for breakfast was thrown. 
 And the sun beam strook eight on the old dial stone ; 
 When the lassie rame wading the yellow broom through. 
 With her raven locks tossing aback from her browt 
 The milk reeking warm in htr leglin she brings, 
 And loud as a bird in May morning she sings ; 
 " lang bloom the broom o'er the grass swaird so saft, 
 That perfumed my bride sheets spread green by the bught."
 
 50 SCOTWH SOJIGS. 
 
 TtiE ROSIE CHEEK. 
 SONG XXIX. 
 
 Once I lov'd a rosle cheek>, 
 
 Fool I was to wooe sae ; 
 Once I lov'd a daisie lip, 
 
 I'll daute nae mair a posie ; 
 Sweet is a rose to smell and pou. 
 When balmy is its crimson mou, 
 But there's a worm amang the dew 
 
 'Tis nothing but a posie. 
 
 2. 
 
 Ae day I met a rosie cheek, 
 
 Amang the dew of even 
 Wi' an e'e that kend nae ill but love. 
 
 Could wyled a saint from heaven: 
 But, though sweet love's divinest lowe, 
 Warm in those rosie cheeks did glow. 
 Where pity has forgot to grow, 
 
 'Tis but a posie living. 
 
 3. 
 Woman thour't but a bairnlie playke, 
 
 Wi' nought but beauty's blossom ; 
 But, thour't a flow'r of heavenly pow'r, 
 
 Wi' pity in thy bosom:
 
 SC0T1H 60KG6. 51 
 
 Wi' a' thy smiles, wi' a' thy charms, 
 Wi' a' thy failings, and thy harms, 
 Thour't lovlier in a bodies arms, 
 
 Than ought that wears a blossom ! 
 
 THE PILGRIM. 
 SONG XXX. 
 
 1. 
 
 Keen o'er the Moloch hill the wind. 
 
 Begrimes the land with winter snaw; 
 The rills are lappering up with ice, 
 
 No bright-hair'd tar begins to shaw: 
 So bide sweet lady from the blast. 
 
 And ae night raense my lonesome ha'{ 
 I'll guide ye through the morning drift. 
 
 Before the cocks at dawning craw." 
 
 2. 
 
 Down sat the dame. The kindling hearth 
 
 Blae'd brightly while we gaily sang; 
 Mute were that lady's lips, and down 
 
 Confusion-smit her head she hang. 
 The sweet milk curds came mix'd with cream. 
 
 Kind came the grace from our goodmani 
 She tasted like a new-snared bird. 
 
 And bar'd nought save a iiUie han'. 
 2
 
 St 4C0TISH SOKGS. 
 
 3. 
 
 The saintly psalm \ras reverend sung, 
 
 And every one had bent the knee ; 
 When such a glance that lady cast. 
 
 The burning tears sprang in mine e'e : 
 She haflins show'd a rosie cheek. 
 
 And neck like sifted snaws to see ; 
 " Oh pardon, pardon, beauteous dame, 
 
 I had a false love once like thee." 
 
 4. 
 
 Red burn'd her cheek, but mute she sat. 
 
 Out curling came her locks of brown; 
 The tears came dewing all her veil, 
 
 From golden selvadge dropping down. 
 I caught that lady in mine arms. 
 
 And rais'd her from her bended knee i 
 " And hadst thou once, sweet youth, a love, 
 
 And was she fair and false as me." 
 
 5- 
 
 " She had a cheek, fair dame, like thine. 
 
 Warm touch'd with heaven's rarest stain;' 
 A tongue that made even falseness sweet, 
 
 A neck like lillies wash'd in rain: 
 And she's still dwelling in my eye, 
 
 And in my heart still stirring pain; 
 And when I see a face like her's. 
 
 I feel her falseness all again.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 5S 
 
 6. 
 
 " Nay, do not wipe those spouting eyes, 
 
 Nay, tremble not thou lillie hand ; 
 For so could weep and tremble too. 
 
 The falsest maid in Scotish land. 
 Oh hang not down that beauteous face. 
 
 Like red rose drown'd in balmy rain; 
 Alas ! my heart is leaping so, 
 
 As though 'twould be deceiv'd again. 
 
 7. 
 
 '* Nay, do not kneel, hang not on me, 
 
 Come loose away thy lillie hand." 
 " Oh 1 here's upon her true love's breast. 
 
 The falsest maid in Scotish land : 
 And here her arms shall ever haug, 
 
 And thus her lips shall ever be, 
 Till thou dost seal her in thy heart. 
 
 The maid who proved hO false to thee." 
 
 THE BOJVJVIE LASSIE. 
 SONG XXXI. 
 
 1. 
 
 iVl Y damsel with the raven locks is young and blate witba% 
 'Twin cherries are her lips, and her bosom is the snaw; 
 The lillie of the wilderness blooms fairest flower of a'. 
 Where there's nought save the dew in its bosom to fa'.
 
 54 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 My love is like a seed dropped of a precious flow'r. 
 By the ruddy gowdspink in itsgreea forest buw'r; 
 A heaven nourisfa'd plant by the sun and balmy show'r, 
 And none save the wild birds ken of its flow'r. 
 
 3. 
 
 For lightsome are her looks as the May morning's e'e, 
 Her lips are like a rose-bud unsuck'd by the bee; 
 She is the light of morning in every body's e'e, 
 And the drop of dearest blood in this bosom to me. 
 
 A coffer of gold is a treasury of care, 
 
 The heart that is lock'd in't has no love to spare; 
 
 My lassie's breast's a coffer, and my heart's lock'd there. 
 
 And of love we're as fou as the birds when they pair. 
 
 5. 
 When drops the summer sun ahint Terreagle's knowes, 
 Sweet sounds the small birds' song through the low bloomy 
 
 howes; 
 Sweet comes loy maiden's song 'mang the green waving 
 
 cowes, 
 Delighting old and young as she ca's home the ewes. 
 
 6. 
 A young maiden's kindest, a young maiden's best. 
 She's like the merles' gorlinc stolen out of the nest ; 
 It sings aye the sweeter the more it is carest, 
 And 'twilt nestle near your bosom at evening to rest-
 
 tCOTISI^ $0)?08. 541 
 
 For sixteen is a honey per, beginning for to blow. 
 Seventeen is its golden cheeH) just ready for to show ; 
 Eighteen is drop ripe, and tempting witba'. 
 And nineteen is pout, if ye e'er pou't at a-. 
 
 mtmmmm^mm 
 
 KIJVD LOFE IS ^ LIGHTSOME THIJ^G. 
 SONG XXXII. 
 
 1. 
 
 What lifts the heart of youtbood gay? 
 What thowes the frost of dob^c gray ? 
 What charms the hermitage and town ? * 
 'Tis love that warms the world aroun\ 
 
 The mavis loves the breath of spring, 
 That mirth and music back does bring; 
 And builds his nest, and loud doth sing, 
 *' Kind love is a lightsome thing." 
 
 3. 
 
 With love the grasshopper made bold, 
 Plumes his crisp'd wings of green and gold ; 
 And on the sunward bank reclin'd. 
 Chirms amorous in the sunny wind.
 
 *6 SCOTISH SOXGS. 
 
 4. 
 
 The damsel who could hearken cold, 
 To wonders which of love were told ; 
 Now listens sweet, and answers kind. 
 Loves pleasant trouble fills her mind. 
 
 5. 
 
 Dear then by burn banks and by bow'rs. 
 To sit and wooe 'raang new come flow'rs ; 
 And hold, with beauteous damsel kind, 
 Delicious commerce of the mind. 
 
 6. 
 
 Bui, ah ! more dear is winter cold, 
 When snow-wreaths lie on height and hold ; 
 In darkest shade to tryste our maid, 
 And lock her in love's warmest fold. 
 
 7. 
 
 Some lovers court with letters brade. 
 Some with rich tokens wooe their maid; 
 And some in short love grips will wooe, 
 And that's the kindliest way to do.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 57 
 
 THE THEFTS OF LOFE. 
 SONG xxxin. 
 
 XESTRE'EN a fair maid came to me. 
 And sweetly said, and courteslie; 
 " The moon is up at midnight hour. 
 And my lady's in her painted bowr; 
 To rouse the deer my lord is gone. 
 And she maun lie all night alone ; 
 So prove your faith and courtesie, 
 Rise up, kind sir, and follow me." 
 
 2. 
 
 What heart could say such kindness nay, 
 
 AdowD the street I took my way ; 
 
 I enter'd by a lonesome door 
 
 Into that lady's private bow'r; 
 
 The stars shone bright, the new woke moon 
 
 Celestial glow'd from heaven down; 
 
 My lady's cheeks, as in I came, 
 
 Were blushing red with love and shame. 
 
 3. 
 From her lilly hand she gave to me, 
 A gold ring, dropp'd with diamonds three ; 
 With rosie palm, from painted bowers 
 She led me 'mang the garden flowers;
 
 5^ SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Where fragrant thyme and violets woYe, 
 A scented couch for kindliest love ; 
 I slipt mine arras her traist aroun', 
 And prest their yielding blossoms down. 
 
 How sweet to rore at midnight hour, 
 With rosie dame in private bow'r ; 
 And hold, on cowslip bank reclin'd. 
 Communion charming with the mind ; 
 And pluck unknown from beauteous shoot. 
 Sweet beveridge of forbidden fruit ; 
 While scarf 'd the moon in golden sheet. 
 Sleeps conscious of a theft so sweet. 
 
 5. 
 
 Thou diamond star, far beaming bright. 
 Set on the raven robes of night ; 
 Thou moon, o'er evening's dusky ledge 
 Upheaving thine illustrious edge, 
 Till from a silver-tassel'd cloud. 
 Thou peerest like city lady proud ; 
 I swear even by your heav'nly flame, 
 Ne'er for to lip that lady's name.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 59 
 
 THE LJJD fVHO COURTED ME. 
 SONG XXXIV. 
 
 V^AME ye down Clouden's hazle banks. 
 
 Or throug;h the haughs of haunted Dee} 
 Cross'd ye the fairy loops of Orr, 
 
 Saw )e the lad who courted me? 
 An eagle plume wav'd o'er his crown, 
 
 A broad-sword dangled at his knee; 
 I'd farm'd ye Nithsdale's fairest holm, 
 
 Ye'd seen the lad who courted me. 
 
 He sounded by my father's gates. 
 
 With squadrons marshalled fair to see; 
 On banners selvadged round with gold. 
 
 The thistle flaunted bonnilie ; 
 Bright belted plaids, and tartan kilts. 
 
 And garter knots below the knee. 
 All moved unto my love's command. 
 
 The blythe lad who courted me. 
 
 S. 
 
 The sun had clomb the eastern hill. 
 
 Above the Highland chivalrie, 
 When mov'd the land with sudden flarac 
 
 Of burnish'd broad-swords, bright to sec.
 
 60 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Far gazed the maids from mountain tops. 
 O'er sounding stream, and tow'r, and tree ; 
 
 And old men from the valley spaed, 
 He'd bring home sound of victorie. 
 
 4. 
 
 A golden bonnet wore my love. 
 
 And shook a broad rank-sweeping brand ; 
 Bright beam'd his forehead raven lock'd. 
 
 His dark eye shone for high command : 
 And low he stoop'd his eagle crest, 
 
 And wanton love laugh'd in his e'e; 
 *' Come kiss, and go with me, sweet lass," 
 
 Quoth the bonnie lad who courted me. 
 
 5. 
 
 3Iay yon green broom ne'er bloom again, 
 
 Gaur'd me go kilted to the knee ; 
 May that biythe bird ne'er build a nest, 
 
 That sung. to see the hawk with me. 
 Some ladies wooe for snoods of gold. 
 
 And diamond tokens, rare to see ; 
 But, I've a pledge of living love, 
 
 From the dear lad who courted me.
 
 SCOTISH 80XGS. 6l 
 
 BOJVJ^riE JE^A^. 
 
 SONG XXXV. 
 
 1. 
 
 Jr AIR dweller by the Solway foam, 
 White-footed maid of Preston Plain ; 
 
 Sweet lass, with love-locks raven black. 
 When wilt thou show thy face again: 
 
 For few they are, and far between 
 
 The visits of my bounie Jean. 
 
 2. 
 Now fading is the summer sun, 
 
 Bright-smiling o'er the tufted knowes. 
 The shepherd's homeward song I bear, 
 
 From folding of his Iambs and ewes: 
 And evening's herald star is near, 
 Which trystes the hour I meet my dear, 
 
 3. 
 Reclin'd she at her casement sits. 
 
 More lovely than a new-found star, 
 Awoke with the Creator's breath. 
 
 O'er Criflfel's comely peak afar : 
 When stops the herdsman at his fold, 
 Th beauteous stranger to behold.
 
 ^2 SCOTISH SOKGS. 
 
 4. 
 
 Moves all the grove with yellow throats. 
 Harmonious shakers of the shade ; 
 
 The wind wafts incense from the bank. 
 With blossom'd cowslips rich inlaid t 
 
 Blythe bird, and odoriferous flow'r. 
 
 Rejoice around my maiden's bow'r. 
 
 5. 
 
 O were I heaven's precenter lark, 
 In morning's silver porch to sing. 
 
 The angel path I would forsake, 
 Fond hov'ring on delighted wing; 
 
 On my love's casement to alight. 
 
 And hmyn her wakening founts of light. 
 
 6. 
 
 For oh ! her bonnie balmy mouth. 
 Is fragrant as a new-sprung rose ; 
 
 Shine when she smiles her polished teeth, 
 clear sown like April morning dews: 
 
 And the sweet breath which dwelleth there. 
 
 Is as the dover-perfum'd air. 
 
 7. 
 
 In arbour of wine-scented plane, 
 'Mang cowslip borders budding green j 
 
 There on spring's virgin-blossom'd sheets. 
 Oh let me sit aside my Jean ; 
 
 Touching her bosom's silken fold. 
 
 Communion with her lips to hold.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 8. 
 
 63 
 
 Her words arelioney to my itaind. 
 
 For precious ointment's on her tongue; 
 
 Love's sweetly lisping messenger, 
 "Within his balmy portal hung: 
 
 Which doth delightful tidings bear. 
 
 As ever came to mortal ear. 
 
 Bright wave the witch-locks on her brow. 
 And graceful on her rosie cheek; 
 
 And, oh ! they have enchain'd ray heart. 
 That fain again would freedom seek j 
 
 Some troublous moments to remain, 
 
 Till charm'd withib these toils again. 
 
 10. 
 
 Stream-water'd is my garden gay. 
 
 Where herbs sweet bleeding tops disclose; 
 
 My cottage on Nith's verdant bank, 
 Far on the stream its shadow throws: 
 
 Groves filled with melody, behind. 
 
 Wave fragrant-topp'd In morning wind. 
 
 11. 
 And all aroimd me is delight, 
 
 Loud bleat the flocks from sunward peui 
 And pleasant cottages arise. 
 
 Filled with the happy hum of men: 
 But, inharmonious all to me. 
 Without, sweet maid, the love of thee.
 
 64f JiCOTlSH SO\GS. 
 
 LORD WILLIAM. 
 SONG XXXVI. 
 
 xlIS chesnut maned courser Lord William has left, 
 
 DowQ amon^ the yellow topp'd broom ; 
 His goldea belt doif 'd, and his broad battle blade. 
 
 With his bright basnet and plume. 
 On Linclouden Abbey the setting sua sank, 
 
 As he walk'd through the arbours of green; 
 A white-fooled damsel he found 'mongst the flow'rs. 
 
 But, a fountain them murmur'd between. 
 
 2. 
 
 Dark clustered that fair maiden's locks o'er her neck, 
 
 Blanch'd pure as the fountain-lav 'd swan; 
 Like the evening star woke on the green mountain top. 
 
 All lovely she shone on the lawn. 
 Unadorn'd was her loveliness, save where the dew 
 
 Kew fal!en 'mongst her temple locks hung; 
 All heedless she saunter'd, then rooted she stood, 
 
 Like a flow'r in a wilderness sprang. 
 
 3. 
 
 " Oh give me one kiss, and those lillie-white feet 
 
 Will I lace up in silver-soled shoou ; 
 Thy forehead and neck shall thy raven locks grace, 
 
 With a golden roof 'd chariot aboon.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 65 
 
 For far have I wander'd o'er ocean and plain, 
 
 By city, and fountain, and tree; 
 But, so beauteous a lass, on this green-bosom'd earth, 
 
 Mine eyes never gladden'd to see." 
 
 4. 
 
 Red-rosie she colon r'd, and turn'd her about. 
 
 Her tears came fast dropping as dew ; 
 By the sweep of her arm, and her white bounding foot, 
 
 His own dearest damsel he knew. 
 Orer flow'r bank and fountain. Lord William he sprang, 
 
 His arras round his true-love to lay $ 
 And the birds in the morning melodious awoke, 
 
 Ere the kind maiden wish'd him away. 
 
 THE LOrESOME DAMSEL. 
 
 80Na XXXTII. 
 
 1. 
 The deepest snow-wreaths drop away with the aun, 
 The coldest ice maun thowe when the summer ii begUD; 
 But love deTout, or warmth of heart, or pray'r, or eon- 
 
 stancie. 
 Cannot win a biythe blink of a fair damsel't 'e. 
 F
 
 66 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 2. 
 
 Her charming looks wad wile off the bird from the breer, 
 So eloquent her tongue, 'tis delight to be near; 
 Though light leaps each heart in her presence for to be, 
 Yet ne'er a loresome blink can they win from her e'e. 
 
 Ilk auld bodie calls her, the flow'r of the queans, 
 And the summer dew has faun on the last of her teens; 
 She is straight, tall and bonnie, as the new-budded tree, 
 And lightsome as spring to the whole countrie. 
 
 4. 
 
 She has bought a snowy hat, with a feather in the crown, 
 With clasps of beaten gold to her waist and her shoon $ 
 With pearly spraings and silver nets to bind aboon her 
 
 bree. 
 And the pride has grown richer that dwells in her e'e. 
 
 Though her hose were of silk, and with silver was she shod, 
 Though her forehead were pearl, with tresses of gowd; 
 Though her mind were a mine of new-minted monie. 
 She's poor with them all when pride's in her e'e. 
 
 The kindly bird builds in the lowly bow'r tree, 
 In the lofty grove top love's the foolish bird to be ; 
 And the hawk takes the high one, and lets the low one flee, 
 And so goes the damsel with pride in her e'e.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 67 
 
 7. 
 
 kind were the kisses once that dwelt on her mou', 
 She wad fa' in ray arms like a new drop of dew ; 
 But her love it wore away, like the leaf frae the tree. 
 Yet she menses even pride with her bonnie black e'e. 
 
 SLIGHTED LOrE. 
 SONG XXXYIII. 
 
 1. 
 
 X HE cock that roosts on our tow'r top. 
 
 At morning dawn can craw. 
 So come unto my chamber, love, 
 
 The silver bolt I'll draw ; 
 And do not dread, my ruddy boy, 
 My father, or my mother's eye, 
 Their door with silken bands I'll tie, 
 Until the day doth daw." 
 
 2. 
 
 Sweet dame, ne'er loose your door for me. 
 My foot will ne'er come in; 
 To wooe the sister of my love, 
 
 It were a deadly sin." 
 She pluck'd a bodkin from her gare. 
 And touch'd him on the bosom bare, 
 Till the best drops of his body fair, 
 Down his green weed did rin. 
 F S
 
 68 8C0TISH SOKGS. 
 
 3. 
 
 The draught of rosie wine did stop, 
 
 As o'er his hause it ran t 
 His soul sat trembling iu his eye, 
 As down his fair head hang ; 
 His ruddy cheek dropp'd on the ground, 
 With all his bright locks curling round, 
 Like violet poison'd by the wind, 
 It's fresh green leaves amang. 
 
 ** Thy love may braid her yellow hair. 
 With many a golden pin ; 
 And she may wave her arm of snow, 
 
 To bid her love come in : 
 Her rising breasts she may untie. 
 To give her room to heave and sigh. 
 And she may wipe her bonnie blue eye. 
 Till it be red and blin-'." 
 
 BOTHfFELL B A J^ K. 
 SONG XXXIX. 
 
 1. 
 
 Sweet Bothwell bank, again thy bow' 
 Bud green, beneath spring's fostering show'rs; 
 The lilly on the burn's gay brow. 
 Wags its fair bead o'erlaid with dew. 
 
 'rs
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 6$ 
 
 The fragrant cowslips, richly mealed, 
 Perfume thy walks by bush and bield ; 
 And gladsome lark from morning cloud. 
 Drops earthward down, exulting loud. 
 
 2. 
 
 So sweet wert thou that summer night. 
 Beneath the moon's new-waken'd light; 
 When my fair youth, upon my breast, 
 Sick'Smitten, laid his head to rest : 
 Heaven stole his angel soul away, 
 As in mine arms he beauteous lay ; 
 Like storm-swept lilly on the ground, 
 With all his fair locks loose around. 
 
 3. 
 
 I howked a grave within my bower. 
 And there I laid my heavenly flower ; 
 And thou wilt spring again, I said. 
 And bloom when other flow'rs will fade. 
 Refreshed with dew divine thoul't stand, 
 A posie fit for God's own hand; 
 Amang the flow'rs of heav'n to blaw, 
 When earthly flow'rs will fade awa\
 
 70 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 THE DISCOJ^SOLJTE DAMSEL. 
 
 SONG XL. 
 
 1. 
 
 JLIeSCEND sweet dove with snowy wing. 
 To fan and cool my bosom's heat ; 
 
 Come thou gay merle from the bush, 
 Thy spotted plumes in my tears to weet ; 
 
 For I have tint the dearest lad, 
 
 That ere made damsel's bosom glad. 
 
 2. 
 
 Sweet ^^ith, along thy golden sand, 
 Oft have I traced my true love's feet; 
 
 And bless'd the print of his white foot, 
 When it came lightly me to meet : 
 
 But, faithless rose thy rebel wave, 
 
 And swept my lover to his grave. 
 
 3. 
 
 I daurnae tell what dims my eye. 
 Or keeps it until morning woke ; 
 
 Nor what my bosom fills with throbs, 
 Or what all earthly hope has broke; 
 
 Or why my soul remains with pain, 
 
 In earthly dwelling gross and vain.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 71 
 
 4. 
 
 For when in adoration wrapt, 
 
 My father kneels in holy hour ; 
 Oh ! he doth pray for the wounded soul. 
 
 That heaven's breath may it restore* 
 My heart most comes in sraother'd sighs, 
 And ray sad soul melts in mine eyes. 
 
 M^Y MACFARLAJ^E. 
 SONG XU. 
 
 1. 
 
 OPRING comes with pleasant green, 
 
 And herbs of heartsome odour; 
 Sweet sounds the silver stream. 
 
 With cowslip-cover'd border : 
 The lark sings 'mang the clouds, 
 
 On castle top the starling ; 
 While lonesomelie I wauk, 
 
 For bonnie May Macfarlane. 
 
 S. 
 
 The gloamin brings nae rest, 
 I dauner dowf and drearie ; 
 
 And dowie comes the morn, 
 Wi' dreaming of my dearie.
 
 72 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Then rise the rosie lips, 
 The raven tresses curlin ; 
 
 And smile the lovesome eyes 
 Of bonnie May Macfarlane. 
 
 8. 
 Farewell Dalgonar glens, 
 
 Where chrystal streams are J9owin; 
 Green hills and sunward braes. 
 
 Where buds the snowy gowan. 
 My heart is sick in love, 
 
 With all the world's darlin; 
 In foreign climes I'll mourn 
 
 For bonnie May Macfarlane. 
 
 THE f^AIJV GLORY 0' T. 
 SONG XLII. 
 
 1. 
 
 1 MURMUR when I think on this weary world's pelf, 
 And the little wee share that I hae o't to myself; 
 And bow the lass that wants it, is by the lads forgot t 
 May shame fall the gear, and the vain glory o't. 
 
 2. 
 Each bird of pleasant note loved young Johnie at the plow. 
 When merry came bis song o'er the green grassy knowe t
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 73 
 
 Sweet sinking in my bosom, ah ! ne'er to be forgot ; 
 May shame fall the gear, and the vain glory o't. 
 
 3. 
 
 The summer leaf it came, and the summer breezes blew, 
 The young birds 'gan to chirm, and my lad began to wooe; 
 And I tint my heart, ere I kena'd the sorrow o't ; 
 May shame fall the gear, and the vain glory o't 
 
 4. 
 
 When the first sheaf of harvest was gather'd ia the band. 
 My lad got a windfall of bouses and land, 
 And forsook his sonsie lassie with the homely hoddin coat ; 
 May shame fall the gear, and the vain glory o't. 
 
 5. 
 
 An ewe-milking maiden, and mucker of the byre. 
 Got a pose of red gold, and rich satin attire ; 
 My faithless lover wooed her, and coost the bridal knot; 
 May shame fall the gear, and the vain glory o't. 
 
 6. 
 
 Lang, iang, I woeful sat in my shieling my lane, 
 A nourishing a poor broken heart of my ain ; 
 For love in my e'e was a bitter bitter mote; 
 May shame fail the gear, and the vain glory o't. 
 
 7. 
 
 But, a honey drap of pride pleased the pain of my e'e. 
 
 Then lightsomely I sang, like a bird on bloomy tree; 
 
 ** Who leaves a lass for lack of gold, he is not worth a 
 
 groat ; 
 May shame fall the gear, and the vain glory o't."
 
 74 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 LOVELY WOMAJf. 
 SONG XLIII. 
 
 J. VE rock'd me on the giddy mast, 
 
 Through seas tempestuous foamin ; 
 I've brav'd the toil of mountaia storm, 
 
 From dawning day till gloamin : 
 Round the green-bosom'd earth sea swept. 
 
 In search of pleasure roaroin ; 
 And found the world a wilderness. 
 
 Without thee, lovely woman. 
 
 2. 
 
 The farmer reaps the golden fields. 
 
 The merchant sweeps the ocean; 
 The soldiers' steeds gore-fetlock'd snort, 
 
 Through warfare's wild commotion: 
 All combat in eternal toil, 
 
 Mirk midnight, day, and gloamin j 
 To pleasure heaven's divinest gift. 
 
 Thee ! lovely conquering woman. 
 
 3. 
 
 The savage in the desart dark. 
 The monster's lair exploring; 
 
 The sceptre-swaying prince who rules, 
 The nations round adoring :
 
 SCOTISH SOI76S. 75 
 
 The lonesome laureird-templed bard, 
 Dew-footed at the gloamin, 
 
 Melodious wooes the world's ear, 
 To please thee, lovely woman. 
 
 THE MOURJVJJVG MJIDEJV. 
 SONG XUV. 
 
 I. 
 
 X HE hoary winter's gone, biythe blinks the spring-time 
 sun, 
 The small birds sing on every tree $ 
 The riv'lets murmur clear, green buds the fragrant breer. 
 
 Sweet hums mid the herb tops the bee. 
 The heart of man leaps glad, to see the woodlands clad, 
 
 And the yellow lillies wave on the lee ; 
 But to me on the plains, still the winter tempest reigns, 
 Since my lover has parted from me. 
 
 8. 
 
 Oh, the little bird is blest, while it nourishes its nest. 
 
 And dries its dewy wings in the sun. 
 The fountains tinkle sweet with the drops of odorous 
 weet. 
 
 They drink from the flow'rs as they ran t
 
 76 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 To the winter-smitten woods, to the herb by frozen floods^ 
 
 The spring's balmy honours return ; 
 But to my stricken heart, nought can pleasure impart, 
 
 I wake but to weep and to mourn. 
 
 3. 
 
 True love's the summer sun, that its radiant course does run. 
 
 Heart cheering and charming to view ; 
 But false love is the moon, night wand'ring up and down, 
 
 Cold, comfortless, changing, untrue. 
 Oh, can it joy impart, for to win a simple heart, 
 
 Then cast it to sadness and pain ; 
 While 1 wander on the earth, nor peace, love, or mirth, 
 
 Will e'er gladden my bosom again. 
 
 THE MJRIJVEB. 
 SONG XLV. 
 
 1. 
 
 JL E winds that kiss the grove's green tops. 
 
 And sweep the mountains hoar, 
 Oh softly stir the ocean waves, 
 
 Which sleep along the shore i 
 For my love sails the fairest ship. 
 
 That wantons on the sea, 
 Oh, bend his masts with balmy gales, 
 
 And waft him home to me.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS. 77 
 
 2. 
 
 Forsake nae mair the lonesome glen, 
 
 Clear burn and hawthorn grove. 
 Where first we walked in gloaming gray. 
 
 And sighed and looked of love ; 
 For faithless is the ocean wave, 
 
 And faithless is the wind, 
 Then leave nae mair ray heart to break. 
 
 'Mang Scotland's hills behind. 
 
 LORD RAJ^DJL. 
 SONG XLVI. 
 
 1. 
 
 Jl he cold wind swept a starless sky. 
 
 The hills were grimed with snaw, 
 At mirk midnight a lady's voice. 
 
 Rose by the castle wa' 
 " Ob come. Lord Randal, open your door. 
 
 Oh open and let me in. 
 The snaw hangs on my scarlet robes, 
 
 The sleet drips down my chin. 
 
 2. 
 
 " Light throb'd-ray heart in maiden pride. 
 When first ye kiss'd ray glove. 
 
 Fair Clouden on thy faithless bank. 
 And won my virgin love :
 
 78 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 Now sweet wad blaw the wind that froze. 
 The death drap in mine e'e, 
 
 Soon may the spring-time gowan grace, 
 The turf to cover me, " 
 
 3. 
 
 Low sank her Toice, faint plaining wild. 
 
 The turret tops araang, 
 Lord Randal started from his couch; 
 
 Wide every portal sprang ; 
 Mournful called he his true love's name, 
 
 Down rained the bitter tear. 
 But ah, ne'er mortal voice again, 
 
 Might win that lady's ear. 
 
 THE HIGHL ADDER'S LJMEJSTTi 
 SONG XLVII. 
 
 1. 
 
 X HE winter wind hangs heavy 
 
 With the smoke of my bame; 
 The echoes yet are murra'ring. 
 
 With shrieks of my dame ; 
 The moans of my children, 
 
 Yet dream me awake. 
 Though the heart's-blood lies frozen, 
 
 1 spilt for their sake.
 
 COTWH SONGS. 79 
 
 How blythtome blew the reaper's horn. 
 
 Afore my haryest band, 
 Till the drum of the spoiler 
 
 Awoke in the land : 
 Now I nestle with the eagle, 
 
 In the high mountain hold, 
 And I roam with the wild fox, 
 
 That howls on the wold. 
 
 3. 
 
 My locks are frozen to the ground. 
 
 And sleety comes the rain, 
 Thou summer wind, to warm the earth. 
 
 When wilt thou come again ; 
 For when the dreary wind is gone. 
 
 Sharp sleet and driving snaw, 
 Sound will I sleep aneath the turf, 
 
 Where primroses blaw.
 
 80 SC0TI9H SONGS. 
 
 JEA^IE WALKER. 
 
 SONG XLVIII. 
 
 Freshness dwell* on my love' cheeks. 
 
 Like a dew-washen April gowan ; 
 Her mouth is a delicious spring. 
 
 With sweetest eloquence o'er-flowin; 
 In every glance and smile appear, 
 
 Divinest graces of her Maker ; 
 She's the top shoot of beauty's tree. 
 
 My young and winsome Jeanie Walker, 
 
 Meg with her farms and dow'rs of gold. 
 
 And naigie's reins of jinglin siller, 
 Makes all the ladses hearts to leap, 
 
 And spring like May-day frogs until her. 
 I'm no the bird will catch with chaff, 
 
 Let those who love sic crinkams take her ; 
 Give me the beauteous treasurie, 
 
 That holds the soul of Jeanie Walker.
 
 SCOTISH SONGS, - 8t 
 
 THE LOFELY L^SS OF PRESTO JV MILL, 
 SONG XLIX. 
 
 1. 
 
 J. HE ]ark had left the cveDing cloud, 
 
 The dew fell saft, the wind was lowne, 
 Its genliri breath amang the flow'rs 
 
 Scarce slirr'd the thistle's tap of downe; 
 The dappled swallow left the pool, 
 
 The stars were blinking o'er the hill, 
 When I naetamang the hawthorn groves, 
 
 The lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 2. 
 
 Her naked feet amang the grass, 
 
 Shone like two dew-gemmed lilliesfair, 
 Dark o'er her temples fell her locks. 
 
 And curling swept her shoulders bare; 
 Her checks were rich with bloomy youth,- 
 
 Her lips were sweet as violet bell. 
 And heav'n seem'd looking through her e'en. 
 
 The lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 3. 
 
 Quoth I, fair lass, wilt thou gang with me, 
 Where black-cocks craw, and plovers cry. 
 
 Six hills are woolly with my sheep. 
 Six vales are lowing with my kye : 
 6
 
 82 SCOTISH SONGS. 
 
 I hae looked lang for a weel-faured lass, 
 Bj' Nithsdale's holms, and grove, and hill 
 
 She hung her head like a dew-bent rose, 
 The lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 4. 
 
 1 said, " Sweet damsel, look nae down, 
 
 But gie's a kiss, and gae with me j" 
 A lovelier face O never looked up, 
 
 And the tears were drapping frae her e'e. 
 " I have a lad, who's far away, 
 
 That weel could win a woman's will. 
 My heart's already fou of love" 
 
 Quoth the lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 " Who is he that could leave sic a lass. 
 
 And seek for love in a far countrie }" 
 Fast fell her tears as summer rain, 
 
 I fain wou'd have wiped them frae her e'e. 
 I took ae kiss of her comely cheek 
 
 *' For pity's sake, kind sir, be still, 
 My heart is full of other love" 
 
 Quoth the lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 6. 
 
 She heaven-ward stretched her two white hands, 
 
 And lifted up her watry e'e, 
 " So iaag's my heart kens ought of God, 
 
 Or light is gladsome to my e'ej
 
 scoTisH soyos. 83 
 
 While woods grow green, and burns run clear, 
 
 Till my last drop of blood be stiH, 
 My heart shall hold no other love" 
 
 Quoth the lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 7. 
 
 Fair maidens dwell on Dee's wild banks, 
 
 And Nith's romantic vale is fou $ 
 By lonesome Clouden's hermit stream, 
 
 Lives many a gentle dame, I trow : 
 they are stars of a lovesome kind, 
 
 As ever shone on vale or hill ; 
 But there's a light puts them all out. 
 
 The lovely lass of Preston mill. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BT SMITH AND DAVY, QUEEN STREET. SEVBH DIALS.
 
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