ALTHO' thou maun never be mine,
Altho' even hope is denied;
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
Than aught in the world beside-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.
I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day,
As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms:
But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
For then I am lockt in thy arms—Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.
I guess by the dear angel smile,
guess by the love-rolling e'e;
But why urge the tender confession
'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
To the Birks of Aberfeldy ?
Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays,
Come let us spend the lightsome days
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
The little birdies blithely sing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream deep roaring fa's
O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The Birks of Aberfeldy.
The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
The Birks of Aberfeldy.
Let fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
1 Near Moness, in Perthshire. The birch-trees were there
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
To the Birks of Aberfeldy ?
THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.
LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,
The snaws 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;
The birdies dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blithely singing,
And every flower be springing.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,
When by his mighty warden
My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon.
STAY, MY CHARMER.
TUNE "AN GILLE DUBH CIAR DHUBH."
STAY, my charmer can you leave me?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me!
Well you know how much you grieve me;
Cruel charmer, can you go?
Cruel charmer, can you go?
By my love so ill requited;
By the faith you fondly plighted;
By the pangs of lovers slighted;
Do not, do not leave me so!
Do not, do not leave me so!
FULL WELL THOU KNOW 'ST.1
TUNE-" ROTHIEMURCHE'S RANT."
Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou were wont to do?
FULL Well thou know'st I love thee dear,
Couldst thou to malice lend an ear?
O, did not Love exclaim, "Forbear,
Nor use a faithful lover so ?"
Then come, thou fairest of the fair,
Those wonted smiles, O, let me share;
And by thy beauteous self I swear,
No love but thine my heart shall know.
Fairest maid, &c.
STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.2
THICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling!
Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave!
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.
In the cause of right engag'd,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly wag'd,
But the Heavens denied success.
Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,
Not a hope that dare attend;
The wide world is all before us-
But a world without a friend!
1 This is supposed to be the last song written by Burns. "I tried my hand on Rothiemurche' this morning. The measure is so difficult, that it is impossible to infuse much genius into the lines."-R. B.
2 Lord Strathallan, bewailing his forlorn state after the defeat of Culloden.
|