But the tender heart o' leesome luve, Light is the burden luve lays on ; Content and luve brings peace and joy, What mair hae queens upon a throne? FAIR ELIZA. A GAELIC AIR. TURN again, thou fair Eliza, Ae kind blink before we part, Canst thou break his faithfu' heart? If to love thy heart denies, Thee, dear maid, hae I offended? Not the bee upon the blossom, Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon ; Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, THE POSIE. O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen, O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has been; But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood sae green, And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer; And a' to be a posie to my own dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view, For its like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue, And a❜ to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there; The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day, But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near, And the diamond-draps o' dew shall be her e'en sae clear: The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear, An a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remuve, And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. THE BANKS O' DOON. YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care! Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed never to return. Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine! And fondly sae did I o' mine. SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. WILLIE Wastle dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie, Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. She has an e'e, she has but ane, The cat has twa the very colour; Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, A clapper tongue wad deave a miller; A whiskin beard about her mou, Her nose and chin they threaten ither; She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shinn'd, Auld baudrans by the ingle sits, An' wi' her loof her face a washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-Water; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. GLOOMY DECEMBER. ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! |