WHEN JANUAR' WIND.

209 The Blade-red Rose at Yule man Blam. Donnie Castle Gardan, TUNE-To daunton me.

TUNE--Morag.
The blude-red rose at Yule may blaw, STREAys that glide in orient plains,
The simmer lillies bloom in snaw,

| Never bound by winter's chains; The frost may freeze the deepest sea;

Glowing here on golden sands,

There cominix'd with foulest stains But an auld man shall never daunton me.

From tyranny's empurpled bands; To daunton me, and me so young,

These, their richly gleaming waves,
Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue I leave to tyrants and their slaves;
That is the thing you ne'er shall see :

Give me the stream that sweetly laves
For an old man shall never daunton me. The banks by Castle-Gordon.
For a' his meal and a’his maut,

Spicy forests, ever gay,
For a' his fresh beef and his saut,

Shading from the burning ray For a' his gold and white monie,

Hapless wretches sold to toil, An auld man shall never daunton me.

Or the ruthless native's way, His gear may buy him kye and yowes,

Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil; His gear may buy him glens and knowes;

Woods that ever verdant wave, But me he shall not buy nor fee,

I leave the tyrant and the slave: For an auld man shall never daunton me.

Give me the groves that lofty bravo

The storms by Castle-Gordon.
He hirples twa-fauld as he dow,
Wi' his teethless gab and his auld beld pow,

Wildly here without control,
And the rain rains down from his red bleer'd

Nature reigns and rules the whole;

In that sober pensive mood, ee-— That auld man shall never daunton me.

Dearest to the feeling soul,

She plants the forest, pours the flood :
Life's poor day I'll musing rave,
And find at night a sheltering cave,

Where waters flow and wild woods wave, 1 Rose-knù by Early Walk. (329)

By bonnie Castle-Gordon.
TUNE-The Rose-bud.
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk,
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,

When Januar* Wind. (330)
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,

TUNEThe Lass that made the Bed to Me All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fied,

WHEN Januar' wind was blawing cauld, In a' its crimson glory spread,

As to the north I took my way,
And drooping rich the dewy head,

The mirksome night did me enfauld,
It scents the early morning.

I knew na where to lodge till day,
Within the bush, her covert nest,

By my good luck a maid I met, A little linnet fondly prest,

Just in the middle o' my care;
The dew sat chilly on her breast

And kindly she did me invite
Sae early in the morning.

To walk into a chamber fair.
She soon shall see her tender brood,

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,

And thank'd her for her courtesie,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,

I bow'd fu’low unto this maid,
Awake the early morning.

And bade her mak a bed to me.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair!

She made the bed baith large and wide, On trembling string or vocal air,

Wi' twa white hands she spread it down Shall sweetly pay the tender care

She put the cup to her rosy lips,
That tends thy early morning.

And drank, “Young man, now sleep yo
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,

i soun'." And bless the parent's evening ray

She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
That watch'd thy early morning.

And frae my chanıber went wr' speed;
But I call’d her quickly back again

To lay some mair below my head.

-

--

A cod she laid below my head,

| Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day, And served me wi' due respect; | When by his mighty warden And to salute her wi' a kiss,

My youth's returned to fair Strathspey, I put my arms about her neck.

And bonnie Castle-Gordon. “ Haud aff your hands, young man," she

says,
“And dinna sae uncivil be:

Bonnie Ann, (331)
If ye hae ony love for me,
Oh wrang na my virginitie !"

AIR-Ye gallants bright.
Her hair was like the links ogowd,

Ye gallants bright, I red ye right, Her teeth were like the ivorie;

Beware o' bonnie Ann; Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,

Her comely face sae fu' of grace, The lass that made the bed to me.

Your heart she will trepan.

Her een sae bright, like stars by night, Her bosom was the driven snaw,

Her skin is like the swan; Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see ;

Sae jimply lac'd her genty waist, Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,

That sweetly ye might span. The lass that made the bed to me.

| Youth, grace, and love attendant move, I kiss'd her owre and owre again,

And pleasure leads the van: And aye she wist na what to say;

In a' their charms, and conquering arms, I laid her 'tween me and the wa'm

They wait on bonnie Ann. The lassie thought na lang till day.

The captive bands may chain the hands, Upon the morrow when we rose,

But love enslaves the man; I thank'd her for her courtesie;

Ye gallants braw, I red you a',
But aye she blush'd, and aye she sigh’d, Beware o' bonnie Ann!

And said, “ Alas! ye've ruin'd me."
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinklin' in her ee;

Bluoming Jlrlly.
I said, " My lassie, dinna cry,

TUNE-On a Bank of Flowers. For ye aye shall mak the bed to me.”

On a bank of flowers, in a summer day, She took her mither's Holland sheets,

For summer lightly drest, And made them a' in sarks to me:

The youthful blooming Nelly lay, Blythe and merry may she be,

With love and sleep opprest; The lass that made the bed to me.

When Willie, wand'ring thro' the woud, The bonnie lass made the bed to me,

Who for her favour oft had sued, The braw lass made the bed to me: He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'de I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,

And trembled where he stood. The lass that made the bed to me!

Her closed eyes like weapons sheath’d,

Were seal'd in soft repose;
Her lips still as she fragrant breath'd,

It richer dy'd the rose.

The springing lilies sweetly prest,
TUXE-Morag.

Wild-waiton, kiss'd her rival breast; Loud blaw the frosty breezes,

He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd The snaws the mountains cover;

His bosom ill at rest. Like winter on me seizes,

Her robes light waving in the breeze, Since my young Highland Rover

Her tender limbs embrace ; Far wanders Nations over.

Her lovely form, her native ease, Where'er he go, where'er he stray,

All harmony and grace: May Heaven be his warden,

Tumultuous tides his pulses roll, Return him safe to fair Strathspey,

A faltering, ardent kiss lie stole; And bonnie Castle-Gordon !

He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd The trees now naked groaning,

And sigh'd his very soul. Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,

As flies the partridge from the brake, The birdies dowie moaning,

On fear-inspired wings, Shall a' be blythely singing,

So Nelly starting, half awake, And every tinwer be sprii zing.

! Away affrighted springs:

The Young Highland Rover.

OF A' THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW.

211 But Willie follow'd, as he should,

The śmiling Spring.
He overtook her in the wood;
He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid

TUNE--The Bonny Bell.
Forgiving all and good.

THE smiling Spring comes in rejoicing,

And surly winter grimly flies;

Now crystal clear are the falling waters, 3:19 Bonnie Marn. (332)

And bonnie blue are the sunny skies.

Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the TUNE-Go fetch to me a Pint o' Wine.

morning, Go fetch to me a pint o'wine,

The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell; And fill it in a silver tassie;

All creatures joy in the sun's returning, . That I may drink, before I go,

And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell. A service to my bonny lassie:

The flowery spring leads sunny summer, The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,

And yellow autumn presses near,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry; Then in his turn comes gloomy winter,
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,

Till smiling spring again appear.
And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,

Old Time and Nature their changes tell, The trumpets sound, the banners fly,

But never ranging, still unchanging, The glittering spears are ranked ready ;

I adore my bonnie Bell. The shouts o' war are heard afar,

The battle closes thick and bloody;
But it's not the roar o' sea or shore

The Lazy Fist.
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar-

TUNE—The Lazy Mist.
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.

The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,

[rill; Concealing the course of the dark winding Ane Fond Kiss. (333) How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, TONE-Rory Dall's Port.

appear!

As autumn to winter resigns the pale year, ANE fond kiss and then we sever;

The forests are leafless, the ineadows are Ane fareweel, alas, for ever!

brown, Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,

And all the gay foppery of summer is flown: Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Apart let me wander, apart let me muse, Who shall say that fortune grieves him,

How quick time is flying, how keen fate While the star of hope she leaves him ?

pursues ! Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;

How long I have liv'd--but how much liv'd Dark despair around benights me.

in vaina! I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,

How little of life's scanty span may remain! Naething could resist my Nancy

What aspects old Time, in his progress, has But to see her was to love her:

worn! Love but her, and love for ever.

What ties cruel fate in my bosom has torn! Had we never lov'd sae kindly,

How foolish, or worse, till our summit is Had we never lov'd sae blindly,

gain'd! Never met—or never parted,

And downward, how weaken'd, how darkWe had ne'er been broken-hearted.

en’d, how pain'd!

[give

This life's not worth having with ail it can Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! For something beyond it poor man sure Fare the weel, thou best and dearest!

must live.
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure !
Ane fond kiss, and then we sever;

Of a the Dirts the Wind rau Blam.
Ane fareweel, alas! for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,

(334) Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

OF a' the airts the wind can blaw,

I dearly like the west,
For there the bounie lassie lives,

The lassie I loe best:

I The Chruallier's Lament. (336)

TUNE-Captain O’Kean. The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,

[the vale; The murm’ring streamlet winds clear thro' The hawthorn trees blow in the dew of the morning,

en dale: And wild scattered cowslips bedeck the But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,

[by care? While the lingering moments are numbered No flowers gaily springing, nor birds

sweetly singing, Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair. The deed that I dared, could it merit their

malice, A king and a father to place on his throne ? His right are these hills, and his right are

these vallies, Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.

[forlorn ; But 'tis not my sufferings thus wretched, My brave gallant friends! 'tis your ruin I mourn!

[trialYour deeds proved so loyal in hot bloody Alas! I can make you no sweeter return!