Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies

355

First when Maggie was my care

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes
For Lords or Kings I dinna mourn
For thee is laughing Nature gay
Forlorn, my love, no comfort near
Frae the friends and land I love
Friday first's the day appointed

Friend of the Poet, tried and leal

From a white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloris requested.

From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells

From thee, Eliza, I must go

202

Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore
Had I the wyte, had I the wyte
Hail, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv'd!
Hail, thairm-inspirin', rattlin' Willie!
Hark! the mavis' evening sang
Has auld Kilmarnock seen the Deil?
Ha! wh'are ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Health to the Maxwells' veteran Chief!
Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots
He clench'd his pamphlets in his fist
He looks as sign-board lions do

He who of Rankine sang, lies stiff and dead

How cruel are the parents.

How daur ye ca' me howlet-face

How gracefully Maria leads the dance!

How lang and dreary is the night

How, Liberty! girl, can it be by thee named ?

How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon
How Wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite
Humid seal of soft affections

Husband, husband, cease your strife

I am a keeper of the law

I am my mammie's ae bairn

I bought my wife a stane o' lint

I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn

I call no Goddess to inspire my strains

I coft a stane o' haslock woo'

I do confess thou art sae fair

I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing.

I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen

I gaed up to Dunse

I gat your letter, winsome Willie

I had sax owsen in a pleugh

I hae a wife o' my ain

I hold it, Sir, my bounden duty

I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend

I married with a scolding wife.

I murder hate by field or flood.

I met a lass, a bonnie lass.

I mind it weel, in early date

I red yon beware at the hunting, young men

I see a form, I see a face

I sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near

I'll aye ca' in by yon town

I'll kiss thee yet, yet

I'm now arrived, thanks to the gods!

I'm owre young, I'm owre young

I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor

If thou should ask my love

If ye gae up to yon hill-tap

If you rattle along like your mistress's tongue

In coming by the brig o' Dye

In Mauchline there dwells six proper young Belles

In politics if thou wouldst mix.

In se'enteen hunder an' forty-nine

In simmer when the hay was mawn

In this strange land, this uncouth clime.

In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men

It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral

485

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen

Late crippl'd of an arm, and now a leg

Let not woman e'er complain

442

538

392 206

521

227

98

254

299

283

238

226

524

300

306

+24

530

521

Lovely was she by the dawn

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion

Maxwell, if merit here you crave
Musing on the roaring ocean

My blessings on ye, honest wife

431

200

378

205