IV

Wha for Scotland's King and Law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman fa',

Let him follow me!

V

By Oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins

But they shall be free!

VI

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow!

Let us do, or die!

THEIR GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE

ferns

brook

I

THEIR groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,

Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume!

Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan,

Wi' the burn stealing under the lang, yellow

broom;

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,

Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly, unseen; wild daisy For there, lightly tripping among the wild flowers, A-list'ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

II

Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies,
And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave,
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud
palace,

What are they?—The haunt of the tyrant and
slave!

The slave's spicy forests and gold-bubbling fountains
The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain :

He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
Save Love's willing fetters-the chains o' his Jean.

THINE AM I

I

THINE am I, my faithful Fair,
Thine my lovely Nancy!
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,

Ev'ry roving fancy!

To thy bosom lay my heart

There to throb and languish.

Tho' despair had wrung its core,

That would heal its anguish.

Thou canst love another jo,

While my heart is breaking-
Soon my weary een I'll close,
Never mair to waken, Jamie,
Never mair to waken!

eyes

more

HIGHLAND MARY

I

YE banks and braes and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumlie!

There Summer first unfald her robes,

And there the langest tarry!

For there I took the last fareweel

O' my sweet Highland Mary!

II

How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,

How rich the hawthorn's blossom,

As underneath their fragrant shade

I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie: For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.

turbid

unfold

birch

III

Wi' monie a vow and lock'd embrace

Our parting was fu' tender; And, pledging aft to meet again,

We tore oursels asunder.

But O, fell Death's untimely frost,

That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary!

IV

O, pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly;
And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly;

And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

MY CHLORIS, MARK

I

My Chloris, mark how green the groves,

The primrose banks how fair!

The balmy gales awake the flowers,

And wave thy flaxen hair.