Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

a

But love is a far sweeter flower

Amid life's thorny path o' care.

The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,

Wi’ Chloris in my arms, be mine ; And I, the world, nor wish, nor scorn,

Its joys and griefs alike resign.

WRITTEN

On the blank leaf of a copy of his Poems presented to a Lady, whom he had often celebrated under the name of Chloris.

'Tis Friendship’s pledge, my young, fair Friend,

Nor thou the gift refuse, Nor with unwilling ear attend

The moralizing muse.

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,

Must bid the world adieu, (A world ’gainst peace in constant arms)

To join the friendly few.

Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,

Chill came the tempest's lower ; (And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast

Did nip a fairer flower).

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,

Still much is left behind;
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store,

The comforts of the mind!

Thine is the self-approving glow,

On conscious honour's part ; And, dearest gift of heaven below,

Thine friendship's truest heart.

The joys refin’d of sense and taste,

With every muse to rove : And doubly were the poet blest

These joys could he improve.

ENGLISH SONG.

Tune, 'Let me in this ae night.'

FORLORN, my love, no comfort near, Far, far from thee, I wander here; Far, far from thee, the fate severe

At which I most repine, love.

CHORUS

O wert thou, love, but near me,
But néar, near, near me ;
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,

And mingle sighs with mine, lové.

Around me scowls a wintry sky,
That blasts each bud of hope and joy ;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
Save in those arms of thine, love.

O wert, &c.

[ocr errors]

Cold, alter'd friendship’s cruel part,
To poison fortune's ruthless dart-
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love.

O wert, &c.

But dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet !
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, love.

O wert, &c.

[blocks in formation]

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,

And sair wi' his love he did deave me;
1 said there was naething I hated like men,

The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me,
The deuce gae wi’m, to believe me.

IIe spak o’the darts in my bonnie black e'en,

And vow'd for my love he was dying ;
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean,

The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird,

And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers :
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or card,

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers,
But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye thank . igrao got

The deil tak his task t * * * He up the lang loat. I, nr 2 APL** Guess ye how, that the

bear bor,
Guess ye hov, tisk hele treira

But a' the nickt weet siste

I gaed to the tester 2.2.
And wha but this free KL 191

I glow ord ss í má
I glow'rd as 1 & serra

But owre my lof: Ano

Least necbors 13. seara
My wooer he .: t. *
And vou'd l was to 2030
And vow'd I vaik s* an*

I spier'd for my son's hopp

Gin she had seen 120* 23***
And how her tes sesgos que sorgente *.

But, heavetis torta de
But, heavens are there . *

He begged, for (47*

Or else I wolke
So e'en to preseTTA $200 www

I think I maur. ww***
I think I maut. w

Cold, alter'd friendship’s cruel part,
To poison fortune's ruthless dart-
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love.

O wert, &c.

But dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet !
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, love.

O wert, &c.

SCOTTISH BALLAD.

Tune, ' The Lothian Lassie.'

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,

And sair wi’ his love he did deave me ; 1 said there was naething I hated like men,

The deuce gae wi’m, to believe me, believe me, The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me.

;

He spak o’the darts in my bonnie black e'en,

And vow'd for my love he was dying ;
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean,

The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird,

And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers : I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers.

« НазадПродовжити »