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HECTOR MACNEIL

[1746-1818]

342

I Lo’ED NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE

I LO’ED ne'er a laddie but ane,
He lo'es na a lassie but me;
He's willing to mak' me his ain,

And his ain I am willing to be.
He coft' me a rokelayo o' blue,

And a pair o'mittens o' green;
He vowed that he'd ever be true,

And I plighted my troth yestreen.

Let ithers brag weel o' their gear,'

Their land and their lordly degree;
I carena for aught but my dear,

For he's ilka thing lordly to me.
His words are sae sugared, sae sweet,

His sense drives ilk* fear far awa';
I listen, puir fool, and I greet,

Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa'!

Dear lassie,' he cries wi' a jeer,

'Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say: Though we've little to brag o', ne'er fear,

What's gowd to a heart that is wae ?
Our laird has baith honours and wealth,

Yet see how he's dwining' wi' care;
Now we, though we've naething but health,

Are cantie® and leal' evermair.

O Menie, the heart that is true

Has something mair costly than gear;
Ilk e'en it has naething to rue,

Ilk morn it has naething to fear.

1 Bought.

? A short cloak. 8 Possessions.

6 Cheerful. 7 Loyal.

+ Each.

· Pining.

Ye warldlings, gae hoard up your store,

And tremble for fear aught ye tyne ;*
Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door,

While here in my arms I lock mine !'

He ends wi' a kiss and a smile

Wae's me, can I tak’ it amiss?
My laddie's unpractised in guile,

He's free aye to daut and to kiss.
Ye lasses wha' lo'e to torment

Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife,
Play your pranks; I ha'e gi'en my consent,

And this night I am Jamie's for life.

343

COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE
• Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa’;
Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw:
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,
There's room in't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.
Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,
I'll hap' ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw:
Oh, come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me !
There's room in't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.'

'Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, auld Donald, gae 'wa!
I fearna the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw;
Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie; I'll no sit beside ye,
Ye may be a gutcher,' auld Donald, gae 'wa.
I'm gaun to meet Johnnie—he's young and he's bonnie;
He's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trigo and fu' braw:
Oh, nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly;
His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw.'

'Dear Marion, let that fee stick fast to the wa';
Your Jock's but a gowk,' and has naething ava;
The hale o' his pack he has now on his back:

He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa.
Loss.
Pet.

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2 Grandfather.

3 Neat. ő Fool. & Whole.

· Wraps

• Fine

Be frank now and kindly: I'll busk' ye aye finely,
To kirk or to market there'll few gang sae braw;
A bien® house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,
And flunkies to 'tend ye as aft as ye ca'.'

'My father's aye tauld me, my mither an a',
Ye'd mak'a gude husband, and keep me aye braw:
It's true I lo'e Johnnie-he's gude and he's bonnie,
But, wae's me! ye ken he has naething ava.
I ha'e little tocher: you've made a good offer:
I'm now mair than twenty-my time is but sma';
Sae, gi'e me your plaidie, I'll creep in beside ye,
I thocht ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa.'

She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa'.
Where Johnnie was list'nin, and heard her tell a’;
The day was appointed: his proud heart it dunted,1°
And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa.
He wandered hame weary: the night it was dreary;
And, thowless," he tinth his gate 'mang the deep snaw:
The owlet was screamin'; while Johnnie cried, ' Women
Wad marry Auld Nick if he'd keep them aye braw!'

SIR WILLIAM JONES

[1746-1794]

344

AN ODE

In Imitation of Alcaeus

WHAT constitutes a State ?
Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound,

Thick wall or moated gate,
Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;

Not bays and broad-armed ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;

Not starred and spangled courts,

Dress.

9

& Comfortable. Dowry.

10 Throbbed violently.

11 Enfeebled.

12 Lost.

Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.

Nomen, high-minded men,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued

In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;

Men, who their duties know,
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,

Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:

These constitute a State,
And sovereign Law, that State's collected will,

O'er thrones and globes elate,
Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill.

Smit by her sacred frown,
The fiend, Dissension, like a vapour sinks,

And e'en the all-dazzling crown
Hides her faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.

Such was this heaven-loved isle,
Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore !

No more shall Freedom smile?
Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?

Since all must life resign,
Those sweet rewards, which decorate the brave,

'Tis folly to decline,
And steal inglorious to the silent grave.

345

ON PARENT KNEES A NAKED NEW-BORN CHILD
On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled:
So live, that sinking to thy life's last sleep,
Calm thou may'st smile, whilst all around thee weep.

346

SUSANNA BLAMIRE

[1747-1794]
AND YE SHALL WALK IN SILK ATTIRE
And ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller' hae to spare,

1 Money.

Gin ye'll consent to be his bride,

Nor think o' Donald mair.
Oh, wha wad buy a silken goun

Wi' a puir broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller croun,

Gin frae my love I part?
The mind wha's every wish is pure

Far dearer is to me;
And ere I'm forced to break my faith,

I'll lay me doun and dee:
For I ha'e pledged my virgin troth

Brave Donald's fate to share;
And he has gi'en to me his heart,

Wi' a' its virtues rare.

His gentle manners wan my heart,

He gratefu' took the gift;
Could I but think to tak’ it back,

It wad be waur than theft.
For langest life can ne'er repay

The love he bears to me;
And ere I'm forced to break my troth

I'll lay me doun and dee.

ANNE HUNTER

[1742-1821)

347

MY MOTHER BIDS ME BIND MY HAIR

My mother bids me bind my hair

With bands of rosy hue,
Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare,

And lace my bodice blue.

'For why,' she cries, 'sit still and weep,

While others dance and play?'.
Alas! I scarce can go or creep
While Lubin is away.

2 Worse.

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