194. Song-Blythe was She
Chorus.-Blythe, blythe and merry was she, Blythe was she but and ben; Blythe by the banks of Earn, And blythe in Glenturit glen. BY 1 Oughtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks the birken
449. Song-The Flowery banks of Cree
HERE is the glen, and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade; The village-bell has told the hour, O what can stay my lovely maid? ‘Tis not Maria’s whispering call; ‘Tis but the
363. Song-My Native Land sae far awa
O SAD and heavy, should I part, But for her sake, sae far awa; Unknowing what my way may thwart, My native land sae far awa. Thou that of a’ things Maker art, That
6. The Tarbolton Lasses
IF ye gae up to yon hill-tap, Ye’ll there see bonie Peggy; She kens her father is a laird, And she forsooth’s a leddy. There Sophy tight, a lassie bright, Besides a handsome fortune:
185. The Humble Petition of Bruar Water
MY lord, I know your noble ear Woe ne’er assails in vain; Embolden’d thus, I beg you’ll hear Your humble slave complain, How saucy Phoebus’ scorching beams, In flaming summer-pride, Dry-withering, waste my foamy
249. Sappho Redivivus: A Fragment
BY all I lov’d, neglected and forgot, No friendly face e’er lights my squalid cot; Shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, The mock’d quotation of the scorner’s jest! Ev’n the poor súpport of my wretched
432. Song-Behold the hour, etc. (Second Version)
BEHOLD the hour, the boat arrive; Thou goest, the darling of my heart; Sever’d from thee, can I survive, But Fate has will’d and we must part. I’ll often greet the surging swell, Yon
358. A Grace after Dinner
O THOU, in whom we live and move- Who made the sea and shore; Thy goodness constantly we prove, And grateful would adore; And, if it please Thee, Power above! Still grant us, with
556. Inscription to Jessie Lewars
THINE be the volumes, Jessy fair, And with them take the Poet’s prayer, That Fate may, in her fairest page, With ev’ry kindliest, best presage Of future bliss, enroll thy name: With native worth
337. Song-Fragment-Altho' he has left me
ALTHO’ he has left me for greed o’ the siller, I dinna envy him the gains he can win; I rather wad bear a’ the lade o’ my sorrow, Than ever hae acted sae
320. Lines to Sir John Whitefoord, Bart
THOU, who thy honour as thy God rever’st, Who, save thy mind’s reproach, nought earthly fear’st, To thee this votive offering I impart, The tearful tribute of a broken heart. The Friend thou valued’st,
408. Commemoration of Rodney's Victory
INSTEAD of a Song, boy’s, I’ll give you a Toast; Here’s to the memory of those on the twelfth that we lost!- That we lost, did I say?-nay, by Heav’n, that we found; For
460. Song-The Lovely Lass o' Inverness
THE LOVELY lass o’ Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For, e’en to morn she cries, alas! And aye the saut tear blin’s her e’e. “Drumossie moor, Drumossie day- A waefu’ day
367. Song-When she cam ben she bobbed
O WHEN she cam’ ben she bobbed fu’ law, O when she cam’ ben she bobbed fu’ law, And when she cam’ ben, she kiss’d Cockpen, And syne denied she did it at a’.
488. Song-The Winter of Life
BUT lately seen in gladsome green, The woods rejoic’d the day, Thro’ gentle showers, the laughing flowers In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled On winter blasts awa; Yet maiden