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STAY, MY CHARMER, CAN YOU LEAVE
Tune, 'An Gille dubh ciar dhubh,'
Sray, my charmer, can you leave me?
Cruel charmer, can you go?
By my love so ill requited ;
Do not, do not leave me so !
Thickest night o’erhang my dwelling!
Howling tempests o'er me rave ! Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave !
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 waged,
But the heavens deny'd 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!
THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER,
Loon blaw the frosty breezes,
The snaws the mountains cover ; Like winter on me seizes,
Since my young Highland Rover
Far wanders nations over. Where're he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden : Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon!
The trees now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging, The birdies dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blithly singing,
And every flower be springing,
When by his mighty warden
RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOW:
T'une, 'M'Grigor of Rero's Lament.'
Raying winds around her blowing,
“O'er the past too fondly wandering,
Fell despair my fancy seizes.
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!
BLITHE WAS SHE.
Blithe, blithe and merry was she,
Blithe was she but and ben :
And blithe in Glenturit glen.
By Oughtertyre grows the aik,
On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw;
Her looks were like a flower in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn ; She tripped by the banks of Ern, As light's a bird upon a thorn.
Her bonnie face it was as meek
As ony lamb upon a lee;
The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
And o’er the Lowlands I hae been ;
A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK.
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush, her covert nest
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
Awake the early morning.