SONGS. ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH SONG. Tune, John Anderson, my jo.' How cruel are the parents The ravening hawk pursuing, Awhile her pinions tries; No shelter or retreat, SONG. Tune, Deil tak the Wars.' MARK yonder pomp of costly fashion, What are the noisy pleasures? May draw the wond'ring gaze, And courtly grandeur bright But never, never can come near the heart. But did you see my dearest Chloris, Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is, O then, the heart alarming, And all resistless charming, [soul! In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing Ambition would disown The world's imperial crown, Even Avarice would deny His worshipp'd deity, And feel thro' every vein Love's raptures roll. I SEE a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi' the fairest place : She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, The kind love that's in her e'e. A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, It may escape the courtly sparks, O this is no, &c. TO MR. CUNNINGHAM. SCOTTISH SONG. Now spring has clad the groves in green, The trout within yon wimpling burn My life was ance that careless stream, But love, wi' unrelenting beam, The little flow'ret's peaceful lot, Nae ruder visit knows, Was mine; till love bas o'er me past, And now beneath the withering blast The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs, In morning's rosy eye; As little reckt I sorrow's power, O' witching love, in luckless hour, O had my fate been Greenland snows, Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes, The wretch whase doom is, hope nae mair,' SCOTTISH SONG. O BONNIE was yon rosy brier, It shaded frae the e'enin sun. Yon rosebuds in the morning dew, They witness'd in their shade yestreen, All in its rude and prickly bower, That crimson rose, how sweet and fair! |