But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e, Has lustre outshining the diamond to me; And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasp'd in her arms, O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms! WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR? WHA is that at my bower door? O wha is it but Findlay; Then gae your gate ye'se nae be here! Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay. What mak ye sae like a thief? O come and see, quo' Findlay; Before the morn ye'll work mischief; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Gif I rise and let you in? Here this night if ye remain, What may pass within this bower, Ye maun conceal till your last hour; SONG.* Tune, 'The Weaver and his Shuttle, O.' My Father was a Farmer upon the Carrick border, O And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O. Then out into the world my course I did determine, O Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming, O My talents they were not the worst; nor yet my education: 0 Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation, O. *This song is a wild rhapsody, miserably deficient in ver cation but as the sentiments are the genuine feelings of my heart, for that reason I have a particular pleasure in conning it Burns' Reliques, p. 329. over. In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favour; O Some cause unseen, still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour; O Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd; sometimes by friends forsaken; O And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O. Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with fortune's vain delusion; 0 1 dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion; ( The past was bad, and the future hid; its good or ill untried; O But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it, O. No help, nor hope, nor view had I; nor person to befriend me; 0 So I must toil, and sweet and broil, and labour to sustain me, O To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early; O For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O Till down my weary bones I lay in everlasting slumber: 0 No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow; () I live to-day, as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow, O. But cheerful still, I am as well, as a monarch in a palace, O Tho' fortune's frown still haunts me down, with all her wonted malice; O I make indeed, my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther; 0 But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O. When sometimes by my labour I earn a little money, O Some unforeseen misfortune comes generally upon me; Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my goodnatur'd folly; O But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy, O. All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther; O Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you, O. SONG. THO' cruel fate should bid us part, As far's the pole and line; Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine. Tho' mountains frown and deserts howl, And oceans roar between; Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. SONG. AE fond kiss, and then we sever; Deep in heart-rung tears I'll pledge thee, I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! Deep in heart-rung tears I pledge thee, |