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A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF
And pierc'd my darling's heart:
Life can to me impart.
In dust dishonour'd laid :
My age's future shade.
Bewails her ravish'd young ;
Lament the live-day long.
Now, fond I bare my breast,
With him I love, at rest
O MAY, THY MORN WAS NE'ER SAE SWEET.
AIR.-0 MAY, THY MORN.
As the mirk night o' December ;
And private was the chamber :
And dear, &c.
Can push about the jorum;
May a' that 's guid watch o'er them!
And here's to, 8c.
0 WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN.
AIR.-WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN ?
Ye see the e'enin sun upon?
That e'ening sun is shining on.
She wanders by yon spreading tree: How blest ye flowers that round her blaw,
Ye catch the glances o' her e'e.
III. How blest
birds that round her sing, And welcome in the blooming year, And doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Lucy dear,
And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr;
And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair.
O' Paradise could yield me joy;
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky.
Tho' raging winter rent the air ;
That I wad tent and shelter there.
Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon; A fairer than's in yon town,
His setting beam ne'er shone upon.
And suffering I am doom'd to bear;
But spare me, spare me Lucy dear.
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart, And sheas fairest is her form!
She has the truest, kindest heart. *
* “ The heroine of this song, Mrs O. (formerly Miss L. J.) died lately at Lisbon. This most accomplished and most lovely woman was worthy of this beautiful strain of sensibi. lity, which will convey some impression of her attractions to other generations. The song is written in the character of her husband.”
CURRIE's Edit. Vol. IV. p. 342.