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Gentle night, do thou befriend me: Downy sleep, the curtain draw
; Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!
Raving Winds aronnd her Blowing.
(325) TUNE—Macgregor of Ruara's Lament. RAVING winds around her blowing, Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing, By a river hoarsely roaring, Isabella stray'd deploring “Farewell hours that late did measure Sunshine days of joy and pleasure; Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow, Cheerless night that knows no morrow! O’er the past too fondly wandering, On the hopeless future pondering; Chilly grief my life-blood freezes, Fell despair my fancy scizes. Life, thou soul of every blessing, Load to misery most distressing, Gladly how would I resign thee, And to dark oblivion join thee!"
Blythe was She. (328)
Blythe was she butt and ben:
And blythe in Glentwrit glen.
On Yarrow banks the birken shaw; But Phemie was a bonnier lass
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw.
Her looks were like a flower in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn ; She tripped by the banks o' Ern,
As light's a bird upon a thorn. Her bonnie face it was as meek
As ony lamb upon a lea; The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's ee.
Dighlanù Tarrn. (326)
Fu' stately strode he on the plain :
Oh for him back again!
For Highland Harry back again. When a' the lave gae to their bed,
I wanger dowie up the glen : I sit me down and greet my fill,
I wish him back again. Oh were some villians hangit high,
And ilka body had their ain ! Then I might see the joyfu' sight,
My Highland Harry back again.
The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
And o'er the lowlands I hae been ; But Phemie was the blythest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Masing mn the Roaring Orran. (327)
TUNE-Druimion Dubh. MUSING on the roaring ocean
Which divides iny love and me; Wearying Heaven in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be.
The Gallant Wraper.
TUNE-The IVeaver's March.
lle is a gallant weaver.
And I gied it to the weaver.
And gie it to the weaver. While birds rejoice in leafy bowers; While bees delight in op'ning flowers ! While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I'll love my gallant weaver.
Hope and fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to nature's law, Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow
Talk of him that's far awa.
Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear, Care-untroubled, joy surrounded,
Gaudy day to you is dear.
The Bindr-rrd Rose at Yale maŋ Blam. Donnie Castle Gardal.
STREAUS that glide in orient plains, The simmer lillies bloom in shaw,
Never bound by winter's chains; The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
Glowing here on golden sands,
There comunix'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,
Give me the stream that sweetly laves
Spicy forests, ever gay,
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,
Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil; His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
Woods that ever verdant
wave, His gear may buy him glens and knowes ; But me he shall not buy nor fee,
I leave the tyrant and the slave:
Give me the groves that lofty bravo
The storms by Castle-Gordon.
Wildly here without control,
In that sober pensive mood,
Dearest to the feeling soul,
She plants the forest, pours the flood :
Where waters flow and wild woods wave, 1 Rose-bind by my Early Walk. (329)
By bonnie Castle-Gordon.
When Santgar' Wind, (330)
As to the north I took my way,
I knew na where to lodge till day,
Just in the middle o' my care;
To walk into a chamber fair,
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk,
All on a dewy morning.
It scents the early morning.
Sae early in the morning.
Awake the early morning.
That tends thy early morning.
That watch'd thy early morning.
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie,
And bade her mak a bed to me.
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it down,
And frae my chanıber went wi' speed;
To lay some mair below my head.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee lang day,
When by his mighty warden My youth's returned to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon.
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me wi' due respect; ; And to salute her wi' a kiss,
I put my arms about her neck. 6 Haud aff your hands, young man,” she
says, “And dinna sae uncivil be: If ye
hae ony love for me, Oh wrang na my virginitie !" Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie; Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me. Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see; Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me. I kiss'd her owre and owre again,
And aye she wist na what to say; I laid her 'tween me and the wa'
The lassie thought na lang till day.
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
And said, “ Alas! ye've ruin'd me.”
While the tear stood twinklin' in her ee; I said, “ My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye aye shall mak the bed to me.” She took her mither's Holland sheets,
And made them a' in sarks to me: Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me. The bonnie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me : I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me!
Bonnie Alan, (331)
AIR-Ye gallants bright.
Beware o' bonnie Ann;
Your heart she will trepan.
Her skin is like the swan;
That sweetly ye might span.
And pleasure leads the vall : In a' their charms, and conquering arms,
They wait on bonnie Ann. The captive bands may chain the hands,
But love enslaves the man; Ye gallants braw, I red you a',
Beware o' bonnie Ann!
The Yanng Highland Rover.
TUNE-Morag. Loud blaw the frosty breezes,
The spaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes,
Since my young Highland Rover
Far wanders nations over. Where'er he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden, Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon ! The trees now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,
Shall a' be blythely singing,
For summer lightly drest,
With love and sleep opprest;
Who for her favour oft had sued, He gaz'd, he wish’d, he fear'd, he blush'd,
Aud trembled where he stood.
It richer dy'd the rose. "The springing lilies sweetly prest,
Wild-wanton, kiss'd her rival breast; He gaz'd, he wish'u, he fear'd, he blush'd
His bosom ill at rest,
Her tender limbs ernbrace;
All harmony and grace : Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
And sigh'd his very soul.
On fear-inspired wings,
Away affrighted springs:
OF A' THE AIRTS THE WIND CAN BLAW.
But Willie follow'd, as he should,
He overtook her in the wood; He vow'd, he pray'd, he found the maid
Forgiving all and good.
My Bonnie Harn. (332) TUNE-Go fetch to me a Pint o' Wine.
Go fetch to me a pint o'wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie; That I may drink, before I go,
A service to my bonny lassie: The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry; The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.
The ěmiling Spring.
TUNE--The Bonny Bell.
And surly winter grimly flies;
And bonnie blue are the sunny skies. Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the
And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell.
And yellow autumn presses near,
Till smiling spring again appear. Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
Old Time and Nature their changes tell, But never ranging, still unchanging,
I adore my bonnie Bell.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready; The shouts o' war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and bloody; But it's not the roar o sea or shore
Wad make me langer wish to tarry; Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
Ane Fonù Kiss. (333) TUNE-Rory Dall's Port.
ANE fond kiss and then we sever;
How long I have liv'd--but how much liv'd
in vain ! How little of life's scanty span may remain ! What aspects old Time, in his
has worn! What ties cruel fate in my bosom has torn! How foolish, or worse, till our summit is
gain'd! And downward, how weaken'd, how dark. en'd, how pain'd!
[give This life's not worth having with ail it can For something beyond it poor man sure
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest !
Of x* the Airts tle Wind rau Blaw.
I dearly like the west,
The lassie I loe best
I see her in the dewy flowers,
I see her sweet and fair :
I hear her charm the air :
By fountain, shaw, or green,
But minds me o' my Jean.
Amang the leafy trees,
Bring hame the laden bees;
That's aye sae neat and clean; Ane smile o' her wad banish care, Sae charming is my
Hae passed atween us twa!
That night she gaed awa!
To whom the heart is seen,
As my sweet lovely Jean!
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,
[green 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!
[trial Your deeds proved so loyal in hot bloody Alas! I can make you no sweeter return!
nin Brart's in the Dighlands.
TUNE-Failte na Miosg. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
[deer; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the Chasing the wild deer, and following the
Oh, were I on Parnassus* till. (335)
TUNE.--My Love is lost to me.
To sing how dear I love thee.
And write how dear I love thee.
Then come, sweet muse, inspire my lay!
How much, how dear, I love thee.
By heaven and earth I love thee!
I only live to love thee.
Till then--and then I love thee.
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
(worth; The birth-place of valour, the country of Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;
[below : Farewell to the straths and green vallies Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
[floods. Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
[deer: My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the Chasing the wild deer, and following the