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; 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, And mingle sighs with mine, lové. Around me scowls a wintry sky, O wert, &c. Cold, alter'd friendship’s cruel part, O wert, &c. But dreary tho' the moments fleet, O wert, &c. Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me, IIe spak o’the darts in my bonnie black e'en, And vow'd for my love he was dying ; The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers : But thought I might hae waur offers, 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, But a' the nickt weet siste I gaed to the tester 2.2. I glow ord ss í má But owre my lof: Ano Least necbors 13. seara I spier'd for my son's hopp Gin she had seen 120* 23*** But, heavetis torta de He begged, for (47* Or else I wolke I think I maur. ww*** Cold, alter'd friendship’s cruel part, O wert, &c. But dreary tho' the moments fleet, 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 ; The Lord forgie me for lying, 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. |