By my love so ill requited,
By the faith you fondly plighted,
By the pangs of lovers slighted,
Do not, do not leave me so !
Do not, do not, leave me so!
STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.
THICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling!
Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling
Still surround my lonely cave i
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.
In the cause of right engaged,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly wagèd,
But the heavens denied success.
Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,
Not a hope that dare attend:
The wide world is all before us--
But a world without a friend!
BAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING.
TUNE-Macgregor of Ruara's Lament.
RAVING winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella strayed deploring-
"Farewell hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure;
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!
"O'er the past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless future pondering;
Chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to misery most distressing,
Gladly how would I resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee !"
MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.†
TUNE-Druimion Dubh.
MUSING on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
Wearying Heaven in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be.
Hope and fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to Nature's law,
Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow
Talk of him that's far awa.
Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear,
Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,
Gaudy day to you is dear.
Gentle night, do thou befriend me;
Downy sleep, the curtain draw;
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa.
I composed these verses on Miss Isabella M'Leod of Raasay, alluding to her feelings on the death of her sister, and the still more melancholy death (1786) of her sister's husband, the late Earl of Loudon, who shot himself out of sheer heart. break at some mortifications he suffered owing to the deranged state of his inances.-B.
I composed these verses out of compliment to a Mrs Maclachlan, whose hua band is an offlcar in the East Indies-B.
BONNIE PEGGY ALISON.
TUNE-Braes o' Balquhidder.
I'LL kiss thee yet, yet,
And I'll kiss thee o'er again
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonnie Peggy Alison!
Ilk care and fear, when thou art near,
I ever mair defy them, O!
Young kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!
When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O,
I seek nae mair o' heaven to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!
And by thy een, sae bonnie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever, O'—
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, Ó!
But Nith maun be my Muse's well,
My Muse maun be thy bonnie sel';
On Corsincon I'll glower and spell,
And write how dear I love thee.
Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day
I couldna sing, I couldna say,
How much, how dear I love thee.
I see thee dancing o'er the green,
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sac clean,
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een-
By heaven and earth I love thee!
By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
The thoughts of thee my breast inflame;
And aye I muse and sing thy name-
I only live to love thee.
Though I were doomed to wander on
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
Till my last weary sand was run;
Till then-and then I love thee.
live-long summer could not
THE DAY RETURNS.
TUNE-Seventh of November.
THE day returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet;
Though winter wild in tempest toiled,
Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet.
Than a' the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses o'er the sultry line;
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
Heaven gave me more-it made thee mine!
While day and night can bring delight,
Or nature aught of pleasure give,
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee, and thee alone, I live.
When that grim foe of life below
Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my bliss-it breaks my heart!
THE LAZY MIST.
TUNE-The Lazy Mist.
THE lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill;
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear
As autumn to winter resigns the pale year.
The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
And all the gay foppery of summer is flown:
Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
How quick time is flying, how keen fate pursues!
How long I have liv'd-but how much liv'd in vain
How little of life's scanty span may remain!
What aspects old Time, in his progress, has worn!
What ties cruel fate in my bosom has torn!
How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gained!
And downward, how weaken'd, how darken'd, how pain'd'
This life's not worth having with all it can give-
For something beyond it poor man sure must live.
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