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Tune, 'M'Grigor of Rero's Lament."

Raving winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella stray'd 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,
O how gladly I'd resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee!'


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 billos

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, blithe and merry was she,

Blithe was she but and ben :
Blithe by the banks of Ern,

And blithe in Glenturit glen.

By Oughtertyre grows the aik,

On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw ;
But Phemie was a bonnier lass
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw.

Blithe, &c.

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.

Blithe, &c.

Her bonnie face it was as meek

As ony lamb upon a lee;
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e.

Blithe, &c.

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,

And o'er the Lowlands I hae been ;
But Phemie was the blithest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Blithe, &c.


A ROSE-BUD by my early walk,
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,

All on a dewy morning.

Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,

It scents the early morning.

Within the bush, her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest,
The dew sat chilly on her breast

Sae early in the morning.

She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,

Awake the early morning.

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care

That tents thy early morning.

So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray

That watch'd thy early morning.



Tune, ‘N. Gow's Lamentation for Abercairny.'

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WHERE braving angry winter's storms,

The lofty Ochels rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms

First blest my wondering eyes.
As one who by some savage stream,

A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam,

With art's most polish'd blaze.

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,

And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,

When first I felt their pow'r!
The tyrant death with grim control

May seize my fleeting breath ; But tearing Peggy from my soul

Must be a stronger death.


Tune, Invercald's Reel.'

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,

Ye would nae been sae shy ; For laik o gear ye lightly me,

But, trowth, I care na by.

YESTREER I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure:
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.

0 Tibbie, I hae, &c.

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o'clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,

0 Tibbie, I hae, &c.

like to try.

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o'coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean
That looks sae proud and high.

O Tibbie, I hae, &c.

Altho'a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry,

O Tibble, I hae, &c.

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