ADVERTISEMENT.

G. Thomson respectfully informs the Public, that each " I do hereby certify, that all the Songs of my writing,

Volume contains Fifty Airs ; that the Symphonies and " published, and to be published, by Mr George Thom-
Accompaniments of Pleyel, Kozeluch, and Haydn " son of Edinburgh, are so published by my authority.

in Vol. I. and II. are distinguished in the Index to the " And moreover, that I never empowered any other person

Airs ; and that the Symphonies and Accompaniments in " to publish any of the Songs written ly me for his Work.
Vol. III. and IV. are wholly by Haydn. " And I authorise him to prosecute any person or persons
Those of Haydn, now introduced into the First and " who shall publish or vend any of those Songs without
Second Volumes, never were before published, but are gi- " his consent. In testimony whereof, &c.
ven instead of such Symphonies and Accompaniments of " ROBERT BURNS."
the former edition as appeared the least happy produc-

tions of the other Composers ; it being the anxious wish The Publisher has the same exclusive right to all the

of the Publisher to render this Work as perfect as pos- other Songs which are marked as written for this Work, as

sible, throughout. And he will venture to say with con- well as to all the Symphonies and Accompaniments ; which
fidence, that every one of the Symphonies and Accom- having cost him a heavy expence and incredible pains to
paniments, now in these Volumes, will be found worthy procure, he gives this public notice, that if any person

of a permanent union with the Airs, and such as the na- shall unwarrantably publish any one of those Songs, or of
tional Songs of no other Country in Europe can boast of. the Symphonies or Accompaniments, he may depend on
If any of Pleyel's admirers should wish to haye the being prosecuted.
first twenty-five Airs, wholly harmonized by him, instead

of having them partly by Haydn, they will of course be Lately published by G. Thomson, and to be had at his

supplied, as formerly. house in York-Place, Edinburgh; or at T. Preston's^

No. 97, Strand, London; the following Works :

Six Grand Sonatas for the Piano-Forte, in Two

Books ; —the middle and last movements of which are

founded upon Scottish subjects, with Accompaniments,

A number of publications of Scottish Songs having issued composed by Pleyel. —also,
from the press, in imitation of this Work, but resembling Six Grand Sonatas for the Piano-Forte, upon a

it in nothing, except the title, it becomes necessary that similar plan, with Accompaniments, composed by Koze-

those who commission this Work should direct their Cor- luch.
respondents to ask particularly for the Collection publish- In these Works, the first movement of each Sonata,
ed by G. Thomson, Edinburgh, each Volume of (the subject of the Composer's own fancy), forms a de-
which bears his own written signature, at the foot of the lightful variety, contrasted with the familiar subjects of the
title page. middle and last Movements. And the Publisher flatters

The Work will comprise all the Scottish Airs and Songs himself they will be found the most interesting Works
that seem deserving of the public attention, besides a Selec- for the Piano-Forte which these Composers have ever pro-
tion of the best Irish ones. The Fourth Volume is now duced. But as some spurious Sonatas have been publish-
in preparation. ed in London, in imitation of these Works, and bearing
The Publisher, having already had occasion to check se- the names of the same Composers, it is to be observed that

veral Piracies from the Songs of Burns, annexes, for the each book of the genuine Sonatas is subscribed on the Title-

information of all whom it concerns, the following Certi- page in the same manner with each Book of these Songs,

ficate, from the Original in the Poet's hand-writing. in the hand-writing of G. THOMSON.

To face the Title of

VOL. I.
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PREFACE.
T he Scottish Melodies have ever been admired for their ori- torily ; but having then stopt short, the Editor found it neces-
ginality, sweetness, and pathos ; and many of them for their sary to turn his eyes elsewhere. He was so fortunate, how-
exhilarating gaiety and spirit. Various Collections of these ever, as to engage Mr Kozeluch, and afterwards Dr Haydn,
have been offered to the Public, but all of them more or less to proceed with the Work, which they have finished in such J.

defective and exceptionable. Formed with very little care or manner as to leave him nothing to regret on Mr Pleyel's breach
research, they are in general filled with whatever could most of engagement. The Symphonies and Accompaniments of the
easily be gathered. In none of the Collections do we meet first and second volumes, as presented to the Public in the first

with many fine Airs, without a large intermixture of trifling edition, were wholly by Pleyel and Kozeluch ; but this new
and inferior tunes, nor in any Collection do we find Accom- Edition of these two volumes contains a very considerable num-
paniments to the Airs, which can be pronounced both master- ber by Haydn, which are now introduced for the first time, in the
ly and well adapted for general performance. And, with re- room of such Symphonies and Accompaniments in the former

spect to the Verses joined to the Airs, there are in all the edition, as appeared less happily executed than the rest. The
Collections too many that debase the Music. third volume, and the fourth now in preparation, were wholly
allotted to Haydn, who, to the inexpressible satisfaction of the
To furnish a Collection of all the fine Airs, both of the
Editor, has all along wrought con amore. He says in a letter to
plaintive and lively kind, unmixed with trifling and inferior
the Editor, " Mi vanto di questo lavoro, e per cib mi lusingo di
ones : — to obtain the most suitable and finished Accompani-
" vivere in Scozia molti anni doppo la mid, morte *." It certainly
ments, with the addition of characteristic Symphonies to in-
would alone perpetuate his celebrity, had he not by his many
troduce and conclude each Air : —and to substitute congenial
other wonderful compositions rendered his name immortal. —
and interesting Songs, every way worthy of the Music, in the
There are some critics, whose partiality to a favourite Com-
room of insipid or exceptionable Verses, were the great objects
poser is such, that they will scarce vouchsafe a hearing to any
of the present Publication.
other. Should any of these ask, why Haydn was not employ-
ed to do the whole work, the Editor would say, that though he
The first object was to procure the Airs in their best form.
What their precise original form may himself idolizes Haydn, yet the Public have long admired the
have been, cannot now
other two Composers also, whose style unquestionably pos-
be ascertained. Although we go back to the earliest printed
sesses great sweetness, elegance, and taste ; and that a greater
Collection, it is far from certain that the Airs are there pre-
variety is obtained from all, than could have been expected
sented to us as they came from the Composers ; for they had
know how from one of the Composers. Where different productions
been preserved, we not long, by oral tradition, and
please highly, it seems useless to argue which is the best. " No
thus were liable to changes before being collected. Nor is it
" purpose is answered," says a beautiful writer, " by disputing
at all certain that the earliest Collectors had industry to seek,
" whether the grape, the nectarine, or the pine-apple, be the
opportunity to find, and musical taste to select and hand down
" most delicious fruit."
the Airs in their most approved form. It is certain, however,
that, in the progress of the Airs to modern times, they have in

some parts been delicately moulded by judicious Singers, into a The Symphonies form an Introduction and Conclusion to

more simple and pleasing form than that given to them by the
each Air, so characteristic, so elegant, and so delightful, and.

early Publishers. If any one doubts it, let him compare the
comprise such a rich Collection of new and original Pieces,

that they must be regarded by every Musical Amateur as an

Airs in the Orpheus Caledonius, with the same Airs in this work.
invaluable appendage to the Airs.
In selecting the Airs, the Editor not only consulted every Collec-

tion, old and new, comparing the same Airs in each, but availed
himself of the communications of such intelligent friends as he The Accompaniments are admirably calculated to sup-

knew to have been much conversant with their native music port the Voice, and to beautify the Airs, without any tenden-
;

copy of every Air, whether cy to overpower the Singer. Instead of a Thorough-bass de-
and he invariably chose that set or

printed or manuscript, which seemed the most simple and beau- noted by Jlgures, which very few can play with any propriety,

tiful, freed, he trusts, from vulgar errors on the one hand, and re- the harmony is plainly expressed in musical Notes, which eve-

dundant graces on the other. ry young Lady may execute correctly f. Here, therefore, the
Piano-Forte will alone be found a most satisfactory Accompa-
The Symphonies and Accompaniments next engaged his so- niment in Chamber singing. At the same time, when the
licitude. For the composition of these, he entered into terms Violin and Violoncello are joined to the Piano-Forte, they cer-

with Mr Pleyel, who fulfilled part of his engagement satisfac- tainly enrich the effect highly .

* " 1 boast of this Work, and by it I fatter myself my name will live in Scotland many years after my death.'
1 ''
— Haydn formerly composed
Accompaniments to part of another Collection of Scottish Songs, but without any Symphonies, which have afforded him a happy opportunity of

drawing from his inexhaustible fancy, those exquisite combinations and inimitable touches that render his compositions more and more en-

chanting the oftener they are heard. These Symphonies are to be found in this Work only. The Mrs also which were allotted to Hayd>T
for tliis Work, are of a class very far superior to the generality of those which he harmonized for the Collection alluded to. And, in lieu of

a figured bass for the Piano-Forte, he has here given a delicate Accompaniment in Notes for both hands.

f Rousseau, in his Musical Dictionary, under the article Accompaniment, has shewn the disadvantage and the difficulty of playing the har-

mony from figures. Those signs, he observes, are equivocal, obscure, and insufficient, as they seldom determine with any exactness the na-
 —

Besides the Symphonies and Accompaniments, Second- it, and in the most liberal and cordial manner undertook to

voice parts have been composed by those great Masters, for contribute every aid in his power for rendering the Collection

such of the Airs as seemed best fitted to be sung; as Duetts, as complete as possible. He has performed what he promised

while the Airs themselves remain without any alteration what- in a manner that transcends the most sanguine expectations
ever, and may still be sung by a single voice, as formerly. They formed by the Editor, having enriched the Work with the most
have also added second-voice parts to each of the Chorusses of exquisite Songs, both Scottish and English, that exist in anv
the Songs, never lefore harmonized, but hitherto sung either language ;
they exhibit all the charms of the Poet's genius in
by one voice, or by different voices in unison. the utmost variety both of serious and humorous composition ;

and every intelligent reader will contemplate his luxuriant fan-

Although the Music will probably be deemed the princi- cy, his ardent feeling, and manly sentiment, and the impressive
pal attraction in a work of this kind, yet the Poetical Part seems energy and simplicity of his style, with equal wonder and de-
no less deserving of attention. Dr Currie, in his truly ele- light. All his tender and impassioned Songs breathe the genu-

gant and interesting life of Burns, observes, that " there is no ine, glowing, unaffected language of the heart ; while the
te
species of Poetry, the productions of the drama not excepted, scenes, the manners, the innocence, and the pleasures of rural

" so much calculated to influence the morals, as well as the life, are pourtrayed with a pencil so true to Nature, as to en-
t(
happiness of a people, as those popular verses which are as- gage our warmest sympathies and admiration. Above One
" sociated with national airs, and which, being learnt in the Hundred Songs from his pen alone appear in these volumes !

" years of infancy, make a deep impression on the heart, be- A few of these have been united to Airs different from the tunes
ee
fore the evolution of the powers of the understanding." which the Poet had first in view ; but the Editor hopes it will

Upon the Poetry, however, the Publishers of former Col- be found, that, in each of those particular cases, a match more
lections appear to have bestowed very little consideration. suitable and congenial has been formed. Beside the Songs of
Whatever Verses were attached to the Airs by their predeces- Burns, the best of the anonymous old Songs are all here in-

sors, they have generally retained, whether proper or improper; cluded, togther with the most select ones of Ramsay, Craw-
and when they picked up Airs unprovided with Verses, they ford, Hamilton, Thomson, Mallet, Smollett, Skin-
seem to have contented themselves with any that chance threw ner, Macneill, and other Scottish Writers *.
in their way. It was necessary, therefore, to review the whole
of the Poetry with a critical eye. But, in considering what The Editor being aware, however, that every English
Songs should be retained, or excluded, the Editor has not al- Singer will not take the trouble to understand some of the
lowed himself to be guided by the desire of needless innovation : Songs written in the Scottish dialect, though a complete Glos-'
on the contrary, he has been scrupulously careful to remove sary will accompany the concluding Volume ; and it being his
those doggerel rhymes only by which the Music has been de- wish, from the beginning, to render the Scottish Airs equally

based ;
giving place to none inconsistent with that delicacy of interesting in England as in Scotland, he has, therefore, along
the Sex, which in too many publications of this sort has been with each Scottish Song, (with a very few exceptions,) given
shamefully disregarded. one purely English, which may be sung to the Scottish Air ;

and even where the Verses attached to the Air are English, a
Mr Burns, whose enthusiasm for Caledonian Music and second Song is frequently given, for the choice of the Singer.

Song was only equalled by his poetical talents, no sooner heard This addition to the Poetry must be acceptable to every person

of the Editor's plan, than he signified his warm approbation of of taste ; as it will be found to include the most admired Songs

ture of the intervals which they mean to indicate, but leave much to be understood and guessed at, consequently, abundant room for error. He
shews, that Accompanying by what is called the rule of the octave, is also attended with great difficulty and embarrassment, and requires a con-

tinual effort of thought. " No sooner (says he) have we formed an idea of one accord, but another presents itself to our consideration, and
" the moment of reflection is precisely that of execution !" — But why perplex the Amateurs of Music with unnecessary difficulties, that can

only render the performance imperfect ? Why use signs which require a long course of study and practice to comprehend, and, after all, are

continually puzzling the player, when there is a general language, perfectly intelligible to every performer ? Let the Composer express his

Accompaniment by Musical Notation, as in this Work ; there is then no ambiguity, and the correct performance of the harmony follows of

course.

There are many persons, who, never having cultivated Music, have little relish for Accompaniments. The Editor well knows, that,

%vhen a Scottish Song is sung by a fine voice, and the words distinctly and feelingly expressed, it gives very great pleasure without any Ac-
companimeut — But every one conversant with Music knows, that the voice needs the support and guidance of an Accompaniment, otherwise,
that it insensibly falls from the pifch in which it set out ; and that the Italians, who have numberless charming airs equally simple with the*

Scottish, always set Accompaniments to them, not only for the purpose of supporting the voice, but of giving variety and effect to the Song.

Mr Price, in his admirable Essay on the Picturesque, very justly remarks, that " the ear tires of a repetition of the same flowing strain, and
" by degrees acquires a relish for more and more intricate combinations of harmony, and opposition of parts, which it takes in, not only with-

" out confusion, but with that delight (the only lasting one) which is produced both from the effect of the whole, and the detail of the parts.
" At the same time, the acquired relish for such artful combinations, so far from excluding (except in narrow and pedantic minds) a taste

" for simple Melodies, heightens the enjoyment of them."

* Mr Burns had collected anecdotes respecting the origin of a number of these Songs, and the fair names to which they relate ; but his

lamented death prevented a communication of them.

 —

in the English language, besides many new ones written on serted in the treatise on Music in the Scottish Encyclopedia,
purpose, a number of which come from the elegant and humo- takes it for granted that those Melodies are the productions of
rous pen of Dr Wolcot, better known by the whimsical ap- the Minstrels of former times. Mr Tytlcr, in his dissertation

pellation of Peter Pindar. The Editor will venture to say, on Scottish Music, printed at the end of Mr Arnot's history of

therefore, that a Collection of Lyric Poetry, Scottish and Eng- Edinburgh, 1779, after combating the idea of any of the Airs
lish, so truly excellent, never was before presented to the being composed by David Rizzio, endeavours, from an exami-

Public f. nation of the Airs themselves, to fix the different ceras of their

In the foregoing account, the Editor is not conscious of any production : Several are particularized, which he thinks were
thing like exaggeration, well knowing that if the Work could composed in the reign of James L, probably, he says, by that
not stand the test of a critical examination, panegyric would not Monarch himself ; and others are mentioned, which he sup-
save it from falling into oblivion, along with the flimsy produc- poses still more ancient. Mr Ritson, however, in his Essay
tions of the day. But he flatters himself that, by the correct- on this subject, shews that Mr Tytler's ideas are more fan-
ness and purity of the Melodies, joined to the Poetry of Burns ciful than correct, and he expresses the same opinion be-
alone, this Work will ever remain the standard of Scottish Mu- fore delivered by Dr Beattie and others, that the Music
sic, and Scottish Song, independently of the other truly valuable took its rise among real Shepherds, probably those who in-

matter superadded to it. The Public, indeed, are so grossly habited the pastoral country adjoining to the Tweed, and the

imposed on by the quackery with which the most paltry works rivulets in that district, from which many of the Songs took
are ushered into notice, as to justify some incredulity with re- their names. But none of those ingenious Writers have pro-
spect to the merit of every new collection of this kind. But, duced any decisive evidence in support of their opinions. Dr
if the names of Pleyel, of Kozeluch, of Haydn, and of Burney, in the first volume of his history of Music, says, that
Burns, were insufficient to vouch for the present Work, the " the Melody of Scotland will hereafter be proved of a much
sale of a large edition has already stamped it with general ap- " higher antiquity than has been generally imagined." But
probation. The. Editor projected the Work as the amusement it is to be regretted that the Doctor concludes his Work with-
of his leisure hours ;
but, of the labour, the difficulty, and the out touching on the subject again ; as, from his penetration

expence of bringing it into its present shape, he might, with and judgment in every thing relating to Music, he would proba-
truth, say much more, than perhaps would be believed. —Altho' bly have given the most satisfactory solution of which the ques-

it has been his endeavour to include all the Scottish Airs and tion is capable. Some have doubted whether the Airs be older

Songs worth preserving, he may have omitted some which than the 17th century ; because, in a very curious book, pub-

have their admirers ; at the same time, he conceives that the lished at St Andrews in 1549, intitled " Vedderbum's Com-
Collection is extensive enough to satisfy the greatest enthusiast. " plainte of Scotlande," &c. in which the names of a great
It will consist of Eight Books, or Four Volumes, containing number of Airs or Songs of the time are enumerated ; as well

at least 200 Airs, and nearly double that number of Songs ; and as in a kind of music-book published at Aberdeen in 1666,

each Volume will be embellished with a beautiful Engraving:. entitled, " Cantus Songs and Fancies,"
;
&c. none of the
Airs (nor Songs), now so popular, are to be found : but this,
Some fine Airs, of which it is uncertain whether the ori- though somewhat surprizing, is no proof that they did not then
gin be Scottish or Irish, are included, and a selection of exist. In the Preface to a small volume of Spiritual Songs, called

the best ones known to be Irish will be found interspersed " The Saints Recreation," published at Edinburgh in 1683,

in the different volumes. With respect to those of doubtful compiled by Mr William Geddes, Minister of the Gospel, we
origin, it may have happened, that, by means of the Harpers are told, that <(
grave and zealous Divines in the kingdom
or Pipers who used to wander through the two countries, some " have composed godly Songs to the tunes of such old Songs
favourite Airs might become so common to both, as to make it
u as these, The bonny broom, — I'll never leave thee, — We'll
questionable which of the two gave them birth. " all go pull the hadder; and such like." The bare mention

of these as old tunes in 1683, must be deemed no slight evi-

It yet remains a question, at what period, or by what de- dence of their antiquity. Mr Geddes proceeds to speak of the

scription of persons, the ancient and favourite Scottish Airs tunes as angelical, and, after reprobating the diabolical amorous
were composed. Dr Franklin, in a letter to Lord Kaimes, in- sonnets to which they were sung, suggests the probability of

f Mr Ritson, in his Historical Essay on Scottish Song, prefixed to a Collection of the Songs, in i2mo, printed in London in 1794, is pleased, in

a sarcastic note, to consider the Editor of the present Work as totally insensible of the merit of the original Songs, because of Peter Pindar be-
ing engaged to write new Songs for the Work !— and accordingly, the reader of that note will doubtless infer that the original Scottish Songs are
all banished, to make room for those of the English Poet. It has been well observed, that he who condemns a work without reading it, is more
his own enemy than that of the work. That Mr Ritson, who in this very Essay has investigated his subject with so much diligence and acute-
ness, should have ventured to censure a Work which he had not at all examined, is somewhat singular. If he had looked into the first book,
(which was published a year before the appearance of his Essay), he would have found, that the original Songs of real merit, suited to the Airs,

are all retained ; and that not a single Song is displaced, to make room for one by the English Poet ; but that every first Song, or the one at-
tached to each Air, whether in the Scottish dialect or English language, is the production of a Scottish Author : —and this (with a solitary ex-
ception or two) will be found uniformly the case throughout the Work. With respect to the Songs which the Editor has removed, he claims
the merit of rooting out weeds, and of planting the sweetest flowers in their room.
 — — — ; -;

having formerly been connected with spiritual hymns and " possibly, differ from that of other Catholic Countries, and
their
ee must therefore have consisted entirely of chant and counter
songs. There is a singular little Work, which first appeared

before the end of the 16th century, a new edition of which was " point. We may therefore safely conclude, that the Scot-
" tish Song owes nothing to the Church-Music of the Cathe-
published by Andro Hart, Edinburgh, in 1621, and re-publish-
cd by A. Constable, Edinburgh, in 1801, entitled, " Ane " drals and Abbeys before the Reformation," &c. To what
<* compendious Booke of Godly and Spirituall Songs, collectit period, or to what description of persons, however, the Public
is indebted for the Scottish Music, the Editor has in vain en-
<£
out of sundrie Partes of the Scripture, with sundrie of other
" changed out of prophaine Sanges, for avoyding of deavoured to ascertain ; it is a question still reserved for the
Ballates,

" Sin and Harlotrie," &c. In this we find a number of pu- Antiquary, who, with whatever diligence he may enquire, will

ritanical rhapsodies, several of which, from the first lines, and now perhaps find it impossible to throw much light upon it.

from the measure in which they are written, seem applicable to

particular Scottish tunes. One of these Godly Songs begins in The Orpheus Caledonius seems to have been the earliest

the very words of a well known Scottish tune ; viz. Collection in which the favourite Scottish AIRS appeared in

Johne cum Ms me now, The Lord thy God I am, conjunction with the Songs. It was published about the yea?

Johne cum Ms me now, That Johne dois thee call. 1725, by W. Thomson, London, who re-published it, and ad-

Johne cum Ms me now, Johne represents man ded a second volume in 1733. The Tea-table Miscellany ,

By grace published by the celebrated Allan Ramsay, in 1724, was the

And make no more adoiu. celestiall.

Another of the Godly Songs begins thus :

first general Collection in which the admired Scottish SONGS
Now welth on our wallis, appeared without the Airs, though the Poet had brought for-
Hey now the day dallis,

Appeiris anone, &c. ward a smaller publication of the Songs some years before. In
Now Christ on us callis,

Hey tutti taiti, which is still sung a separate Work, consisting of six very small books, he also
This exactly suits the tune,
to words beginning, " Landlady count the lawin, The day is published about 70 of the Airs, with a Bass to each, but whe-
" And every probability of be- ther at the same time with his Miscellany, or after the appear-
near the dawin." there is its

ing the same with The jolly day now dawis, mentioned by
ance of the Orpheus Caledonius, is uncertain. To the Miscel-

lany, however, the publisher of the Orpheus Caledonius., as

Gawin Douglass in the last prologue to his Translation of Vir-
Dunbar who, ad- well as every succeeding Publisher, has been particularly ob-
gil, written in 1513, and by the poet also,

dressing the merchants of Edinburgh, says,

liged, —most of the Songs which have so long been favourites^

Your common Menstrals lies no tone being found in the Miscellany. These were chiefly written by

But Now the day dawis and Into Joun. Ramsay and his friends, for such Scottish Airs as they thought

Thus, without regarding the improbable tradition, that Hey ill-suited with the words, —Airs which must have been popular
of Bannock- long before 1724, as Ramsay, in his preface, says, " What
tutti taiti was Robert Bruce's march at the Battle
" further adds to the esteem we have for them, their anti-
bum in 1314, it appears to be one of the oldest Scottish tunes is,

concerning which we have any thing like evidence. There is a

" quity, and their being universally known." Some of the

third godly Song in the same publication, beginning best Songs in the Miscellany, such as, The Gaberlunzie Man
Till our Gudeman, till our Gudeman, Muirland Willie ; Nancy 's to the greenwood gane ; My Jo,
Keep faith and love till our Gudeman, Janet ; Tak' your auld cloak about ye ; Waly Waly, &c.

For our Gudeman in hevin does reigne,

were collected by Ramsay ; and, but for him, it is probable that

In glore and blisse without ending," &c. these admirable specimens of the native Song of Scotland would

This is perfectly adapted to the well known tune, called Our have been irretrievable. When, or by whom, these were writ-
therefore, ten, was not known even in 1724, from which a considerable
gudeman, or, The auld gudeman; it is probable,

that the latter was another of the popular Scottish tunes when antiquity may fairly be inferred ; and it is to be presumed that

the Compendious Booke was published. Of the other still po- the Airs were at least coeval with the Songs. The much ad-
mired Song, set to the Flowers of the Forest, beginning, " I've
pular tunes, those which have been incidentally alluded to, and
your auld cloak " heard o' lilting," written on the battle of Flodden, though
most frequently noticed as old ones, are, Tali'

about ye Waly waly John Anderson my jo ; and Maggy it has been supposed a production of that remote period, is said
; ;

though perhaps many of the other favourite airs, not to have been written about the year 1755, by a sister of Sir
Lauder ;

Gilbert Elliot of Minto.

particularized at all, are fully as ancient.

There is a tradition, that " John, come kiss me now For the satisfaction of the curious, all the Airs in this

" John Anderson, my jo," and some other favourite Scottish Work, which were considered to be old in 1724, are distin-

hymns the Latin service. guished by this mark § in the Index to each volume. Those
airs, were originally attached to in

Rut Mr Ritson shews the absurdity of this idea : " No vestige, marked thus ||
are known to be modem. Those without any

" (says he) of any Scottish melody ever was, or ever will be
mark are presumed to be modern, though some of them may
" found in the old Scottish Church-service, which did not, perhaps be old. And those with this mark * are understood

to be Irish.
cc
(for one of their service-books is preserved) and could not

York-Place, Edinburgh, 1
September 1803. j
 7 1

INDEX TO THE AIRS

IN THE

FIRST VOLUME,
ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THEIR NAMES.

The Airs distinguished by this mark § are prolalhj the oldest, as they are known to hai)6 leen popular lefore the year 1724.
Those marked thus \\
are known to he modern. And those with this mark * are said to le Irish.

AIRS. COMPOSERS AIRS COMPOSERS

OF THE OF THE
Symph s and Accompan 5
.
'.
Symphs and Accompans
. .

A Page N Page

Adieu ye streams . . . Duet . . . Kozeluch 34 Nanie 0§ .... Pleyel 4

Auld Rob Morris § . . Duet . . . Haydn 1

O
B Oh, open the door *".,.... ... Ditto 2

Bonny Dundee § Kozeluch 46 O Jean, I love thee ...» ... Kozeluch 29

Bush aboon Traquair § . . • » . Pleyel 5
Pt

Rise up and bar the door ... ... Haydn 47

Cauld kail in Aberdeen § . Duct . . . HAYbN 31 Roslin Castle [|
Ditto 14

Corn riggs § .... Duet . . . Pleyel 7

Craigieburn wood . . . . ... Haydn 32

She rose and let me in § T • • • . Pleyel 23
D She's fair and fause . . Kozeluch 40
Donald* Pleyel 15 . Pleyel 24
Donald and Flora Kozeluch 30
Ditto 48
T
Duncan Gray
The auld wife ayont the fire § . Haydn 39
G The banks of Banna * Duet . . Pleyel 25

Galla Water § Pleyel 11 The birks of Invermay § 1

Gilderoy§ Duet . . . Ditto 20 The bonny bracket lassie . Kozeluch 42

Gil Morris Haydn 45 The braes of Yarrow § . Pleyel 12

Gramachree* Ditto 18 The Caledonian Hunt's Delig•ht ||

Duet . Kozeluch 43
The collier's bonie lassie § . Ditto 33
. H The ewe-bughts § Duet . . . Haydn S

Here awa, there awa § . . . ... Pleyel 2 The deuks dang o'er my daddy . . Kozeluch 37

Here's a health to my true Love Duet . Kozeluch 50 The flowers of Edinburgh . . Ditto 27
The mill mill 0§ . . . 22
I
36
I had a horse, &c . Ditto 49 The seventh of November Duet . . . Ditto 2S

I'll never leave thee § Pleyel 6 The silken snood § . Ditto 41

The siller crown . . . , Ditto 44

L 16

Lochaber § Haydn 10 The vellow-hair'd laddie § Duet . . . Ditto 13

Locheroch side ||
Kozeluch 26
Lord Gregory Ditto 38
w
M Walywaly§ .......... Ditto 19

My apron deary § Haydn 9

My love she's but a lassie yet . ... Ditto 35
 INDEX TO THE POETRY
IN THE

FIRST VOLUME,
ALPHABETICALLY ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE FIRST LINE OP EACH SONG,

FIRST LINES. authors. Page. FIRST LINES. AUTHORS. Page

A o
Adieu ye streams, &c. Miss Home 34 O love will venture in, &c. Burns 3
Ah Chloris, could now but sit Unknown
I 20 O Marion, so sweet are thy kisses Peter Pindar 8
Ah, ope, Lord Gregory, 8cc. Peter Pindar 38 O mirk, mirk, &c. Burns . 38
And ye shall walk in silk, &c. Unknown 44 O Nancy, wilt thou go with me Dr Percy 4
At setting day and rising morn Ramsay 22 One day I heard Mary say Crawford . 6
B One morning very early, &c. Unknown . 18
Behind yon hills, &c. . Burns 4 O poortith cauld, &c. Burns • 49
Be still, O ye winds, &c." Edward Moore 13 O saw ye bonie Lesley Ditto . 33
Braw, braw lads, &c. Burns 11 O stay, sweet warbling, &c. Ditto . 26
Busk ye, busk ye, &c. Hamilton 12 O waly waly up the bank Unknown • 19
C O were I on Parnassus hill Burns • 29
Come, dear Amanda, &c. Unknown 7 S
Come, gentle god, &c. Unknown 15 Saw ye my wee thing, &c. Macneill . 46
Could aught of song declare, &c. Beattie 32 Shepherds, I have lost my love Unknown . 25
D She 's fair and fause, &c. Burns . 40
Deluded swain, the pleasure Unknown t 33 ^Unknown . 24
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat Burns 47 Burns . 32
Duncan Gray came here to woo Ditto 48
F : Unknown . 42
Farewel to Lochaber, 8tc. Ramsay 10 The day returns, &c. Burns . 28
Fate gave the word, &c. Burns 45 The heavy hours are almost past Lord LyTtleton . 23
From thee, Eliza, I must go Ditto 15 The nymph that undoes me, &c. Etherege • 17
G There's auld Rob Morris, &c'. Burns • 17
Gilderoy was a bonny boy Unknown 20 The lazy mist hangs, &c. Ditto . 50
Gin living worth, &c. Unknown 16 The night her silent sable wore Unknown . 23
Gone is my heart, &c. Peter Pindar 41 The sun in virgin lustre shone Unknown , . 27
H The smiling morn, &c. Mallet 1

Had I a heart for falsehood, &c Sheridan 18 Thy braes were bonny, &c. Rev. Mr Logan . 12
Hard is the fate, &c. Thomson 19 To fair Ftdele's grassy tomb Collins . 24
Hear me, ye nymphs, &c. Crawford 5 Too plain, dear youth, 8cc SOAME JENYNS . 44
Here awa, there awa, &c. Burns 2 True-hearted was he, &c. Burns . 46
Here is the glen, &c. Ditto 27 Turn again, thou fair Eliza Burns . 42
How lang and dreary, &c. Ditto 31 'Twas in that season of the year Richard Hewit . 14
I U
If wine and music, &c. Prior '29 Unless with my Amanda blest Thomson , <
- 43
In April, when Primroses, &c. Ramsay 13 W
It was about the Mart'mas time Unknown 47 What beauties does Flora disclose Crawford
L When Delia on the plain appears Lord Littleton 14
Let not woman e'er complain Burns 48 When merry hearts were gay Macneill .
30
M When wild war's deadly blast, &c. Burns 22
Ma ry's charms subdu'd my breast Hon. Andrew Erskine 11 Where Cart rins rowing, &c Ditto 39
My love she 's but a lassie yet Macneill .35 . Where is &c
the smile, Peter Pindar
. .
2
My Patie is a lover gay Ramsay 7 . '.. Why Florella, &c.
will Unknown .
40
My sheep I neglected, &c. Sir Gilbert Elliot 9 Will ye go to the ewe bughts, &c. Unknown 8
N Y
Nae gentle dames, &c Burns 37 Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon Burns 43
O Ye dear delights of love, adieu Peter Pindar 31
O mourn, &c.
cease to Unknown 16 Ye little loves that round, &£. Unknown ,35
O had my Love ne'er smil'd, &c. Sheridan 5 Ye shepherds and nymphs, &c. Hamilton 10
Oil, open the door, &c. Unknown 21
 —— — > . —
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 5

THE SMILING MORN.

WRITTEN

'
Br MALLET.

AIR THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY.

T h e smiling morn, the breathing spring, For soon the winter of the year,

Invite the tuneful birds to sing ; And age, life's winter, will appear :

And while they warble from each spray, At this thy lively bloom will fade,

Love melts the universal lay : As that will strip the verdant shade :

Let us, Amanda, timely wise, Our taste of pleasure then is o'er,

Like them improve the hour that flies, The feather'd songsters please no more
And in soft raptures waste the day, And when they droop, and we decay,
Among the birks of Invermay. Adieu the birks of Invermay !

vol. r. A
 ; ; ; :

HERE AW A, THERE AWA.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR. HERE AWA,' THERE AWA'

Here awa', there awa,' wandering Willie, Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,

Here awa,' there awa,' haud awa' hame How your dread howling a lover alarms !

Come to my bosom, my ain only deary, Wauken, ye breezes ! row gently, ye billows !

Tell me thou bring' st me my Willie the same. And waft my dear Laddie ance mair to my arms.

Winter winds blew, loud and cauld, at our parting, But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e Flow still between us, thou wide roaring main

Welcome now Simmer, and welcome my Willie ; May I never see it, may I never trow it,

The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me. But, dying, believe that my Willie 's my ain !

WHERE IS THE SMILE.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br PETER PINDAR.

THE SAME AIR.

W here is the smile that was heav'n to our eye ? Marian, thy form was a sun to our shade,

Where is the voice that enchanted our ear ? Chac'd were the glooms when it beam'd on our plain.

Nought now around us is heard but the sigh ? Leave not, O leave not the verdures to fade ;

Nought in the valley is seen but the tear ! Let not chill darkness surround us again.

Blest is the cottage thy charms shall adorn Tell us what tempts thee to fly from our grove ?

There will the moments be wing'd with delight j

What is our crime that our valley should pine ?

Pleasure with thee shall arise at the morn ; Say, dost thou pant for the conquests of love ?

Rapture retire with thy beauties at night. The hearts of our shepherds already are thine.
 ] — — —

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 ; ; ; :

WHAT BEAUTIES DOES FLORA DISCLOSE.

WRITTEN

Br Mr CRAJVFORD,
OF THE AUCHNAMES FAMILY,
*

AIR TWEED SIDE,

w How
hat beauties does Flora
sweet are her smiles upon
disclose

Tweed
?

?
How my love pass the long day ?
does
Does Mary not tend a few sheep ?
Yet Mary's still sweeter than those Do they never carelessly stray,
Both Nature and Fancy exceed. While happily she lies asleep ?

No daisy, nor sweet blushing rose, Tweed's murmurs should lull her to rest,
Not all the gay flowers of the field, Kind Nature indulging my bliss ;

Nor Tweed gliding gently through those, To relieve the soft pains of my breast,
Such beauty and pleasure can yield. I'd steal an ambrosial kiss.

The warblers are heard in each grove, 'Tis she does the virgins excel,

The linnet, the lark, and the thrush, No beauty with her can compare
The black-bird, and sweet cooing dove, Love's graces around her do dwell,
With music enchant ev'ry bush. She's fairest where thousands are fair.

Come, let us go forth to the mead, Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray ?

Let us see how the primroses spring Oh ! tell me at noon where they feed
^e'll lodge in some village on Tweed, Shall I seek them on sweet-winding Tay ?

And love while the feather'd folks sing. Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed ?
 ; ; ;

BEYOND YON HILLS.

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR MY NANIE, O.

H) e h i n d yon hills where Lugar flows, A country lad is my degree,

'Mang muirs, and mosses many, O, And few there be that ken me, O ;

The wint'ry sun the day has clos'd ; But what care I how few they be,
And I'll awa to Nanie, O. I'm welcome ay to Nanie, O.

Tho' westlin winds blaw loud and sliill My riches a"s my penny fee,
And its baith mirk and rainy, O ; And I maun guide it cannie, O ;

I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal, But warld's gear ne'er troubles me,
And o'er the hill to Nanie, O. My thoughts are a', my Nanie, O.
My Nanie's charming, sweet, and young Our auld guidman delights to view
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O :
His sheep and kye thrive bonie, O ;

May ill befa' the flattering tongue But I'm as blythe that bauds his pleugh,
That wad beguile my Nanie, O. And has nae care but Nanie, O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true, Come well, come woe, I carena by,
As spotless as she's bonie, O ; I'll tak' what Heav'n will send me, O ;

The op'ning gowan, wet wi' dew, Nae ither care in life have I,

Nae purer is than Nanie, O. But live, and love my Nanie, O.

O NANCY, WILT THOU GO WITH ME.

WRITTEN

Br DR PERCY.

THE S ME AIR. i

C3 Nancy, wilt thou go with me, O Nancy, canst thou love so true,

Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town ? Through perils keen with me to go ?

Can silent glens have charms for thee, Or when thy swain mishap shall rue,
The lowly cot and russet gown ? To share with him the pangs of woe ?

No longer drest in silken sheen, Say, shou'd disease, or pain befal,

No longer deck'd with jewels rare ;

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care ?

Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene, Nor, wistful, those gay scenes recal,

Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? Where thou wert fairest of the fair ?

O Nancy, when thou'rt far away, And when at last thy love shall die,

Wilt thou not cast a wish behind ? Wilt thou receive his parting breath ?

Say, canst thou face the parching ray, Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
Nor shrink before the wint'ry wind ? And cheer with smiles the bed of death ?

O can that soft and gentle mien And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay
Extremes of hardship learn to bear Strew flow'rs, and drop the tender tear

Nor sad, regret each courtly scene, Nor then regret those scenes so gay,

Where thou wert fairest of the fair f Where thou wert fairest of the fair ?
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 ; ;; — ; : !

HEAR ME, YE NYMPHS.

WRITTEN

Br Mr CRAWFORD.

AIR THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.

Hear me, ye nymphs, and every swain, Yet now she scornful flies the plain,

I'll tell how Peggy grieves me The fields we then frequented :

Though thus I languish, thus complain, If e'er we meet, she shews disdain^

Alas ! she ne'er believes me. She looks as ne'er acquainted.

My vows and sighs, like silent air, The bonny bush bloomed fair in May,
Unheeded, never move her ; Its sweets I'll ay remember :

At the bonny bush aboon Traquair, But now her frowns make it decay,

'Twas there I first did love her. It fades as in December.

That day she smiled, and made me glad, Ye rural powers, who hear my strains,

No maid seem'd ever kinder : Why thus should Peggy grieve me ?

I thought myself the luckiest lad, Oh ! make her partner in my pains,

So sweetly there to find her. Then let her smiles relieve me.

I tried to soothe my am'rous flame, If not, my love will turn despair,

In words that I thought tender : My passion no more tender

If more there pass'd, I'm not to blame, I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
I meant not to offend her. To lonely wilds I'll wander !

O HAD MY LOVE NE'ER SMILED ON ME.

WRITTEN

Br R. B. SHERIDAN, Es<f

THE SAME AIR.

had my love ne'er smiled on me, Not worse his fate, who on a wreck
I ne'er had known such anguish That drove as winds did blow it,

But think how false, how cruel she, Silent had left the shatter'd deck,

To bid me cease to languish I To find a grave below it

To bid me hope her hand to gain, Then land was cried, no more resign'd,

Breathe on a flame half perish'd He glow'd with joy to hear it

And then, with cold and fix'd disdain, Not worse his fate his woe to find,

To kill the hope she cherish'd ! The wreck must sink eer near it

tat., r. b.
 : !

ONE DAY I HEARD MARY SAY.

WRITTEN

Br Mr CRAWFORD.

AIR I'LL NEVER LEAVE THEE.

ne day I heard Mary say, Adonis, my charming youth,

How shall I leave- thee ? What can relieve thee ?
Stay, dearest Adonis, stay, Can Mary thy anguish soothe !

Why wilt thou grieve me ? This breast shall receive thee.

Alas ! my fond heart will break, My passion can ne'er decay,

If thou shou'dst leave me ; Never deceive thee

I'll live and die for thy sake, Delight shall drive pain away,
Yet never leave thee. Pleasure revive thee.

Say, lovely Adonis, say, But leave thee, leave thee, lad,

Has Mary deceiv'd thee ? How shall I leave thee

Did e'er her young heart betray O ! that thought makes me sad

New love that's griev'd thee ? I'll never leave thee.

My constant mind ne'er shall stray, Where would my Adonis fly ?

Thou may'st believe me, Why does he grieve me !

I'll love thee, lad, night and day, Alas ! my poor heart will die,

And never leave thee. If he should leave me !

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MY PAT IE IS A LOVER GAY.

p I 1 -r7 &WRITTEN
JT"* PfPl fTri P*"^ H

Br ALLAN RAMSAY.

AIR CORN RIGGS.

M y Patie is a lover gay, Last night I met him on a bawk,

His mind is never muddy, Where yellow corn was growing,
His breath is sweeter than new hay, There mony a kindly word he spake,
His face is fair and ruddy : That set my heart a- glowing.

His shape is handsome, middle size, He kiss'd and vow'd he wad be mine,
He's stately in his walking And loo'd me best of ony :

The shining of his e'en surprise : That gars me like to sing sinsyne,
'Tis heav'n to hear him talking 1

. " O corn riggs are bonny."

COME, DEAR AMANDA, QUIT THE TOWN.

THE SAME AIR.

Lome, dear Amanda, quit the town, Come, let us mark the gradual spring,

And to the rural hamlets fly ;

* How peep the buds, the blossom blows,
Behold, the wintry storms are gone, 'Till Philomel begins to sing,
A gentle radiance glads the sky : And perfect May to spread the rose.

The birds awake, the flow'rs appear; Let us secure the short delight,
Earth spreads a verdant couch for thee And wisely crop the blooming day :

'Tis joy and music all we hear For soon, too soon, it will be night
'Tis love and beauty all we see Arise, my love, and come away !

* It may be imagined} by the Reader of this song, that it will not suit the Air, lecause in the second and fourth

lines of each verse the measure is a little different from the corresponding lines of the Scottish verses ; but it is to be

observed, that the Air requires these lines to have eight syllables, although it happens that there are but seven in
*
the Scottish verses, S. ..
*
~r -
,
..*" __ SL W?,,
.
 ; ;

WILL YE GO TO THE EWE-BUGHTS, MARION?

AIR THE EWE-BUGHTS.

Will ye go to the ewe-bughts, Marion, I've nine milk-ewes, my Maeion,

And wear in the sheep wi' me ? A cow and a brawny quey ;

The sun shines sweet, my Maeion, I'll gi'e them a' to my Marion
But nae half so sweet as thee. Upon her bridal-day.

The sun, &c. I'll gi'e, &c.

O Marion's a bonny lass, And ye's get a green say apron,

And the blythe blinks in her e'e ; And waistcoat o' London brown
And fain wad I marry Marion, And wow but ye will be vap'ring
Gin Marion wad marry me. Whene'er ye gang to the town.

And fain, &c. And wow, &c.

I'm young and stout, my Marion,

Nane dances like me on the green r
And gin ye forsake me, Marion,
I'll e'en draw up wi' Jean.
And gin, &c.

O MARIAN, SO SWEET ARE THY KISSES.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br PETER PINDAR.

THE SAME AIR.

C3 Marian, so sweet are thy kisess,

Thou shouldst not thy shepherd refuse,

Behold ! they are so many blisses,

And nought, my dear girl, wilt thou lose;

Those lips were created for pleasure,

Then, wherefore deny thy poor swain ?

Say, thou feelest the loss of the treasure,

I'll give thee thy kisses again.

Then, Marion, most cheerfully deal 'em,

By such presents thou can'st not be poor
So fruitful thy lips when I steal 'em,

They quickly are cluster'd with more.

 .

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 — ;

MY SHEEP NEGLECTED.
Si
I

WRITTEN

By Sir GILBERT ELLIOT.

AIR MY APRON DEARY.

sheep I neglected, I lost my sheep-hook, Through regions remote in vain do I rove,

And all the gay haunts of my youth I forsook, And bid the wide ocean secure me from love
No more for Aminta fresh garlands I wove ; O fool to imagine that aught can subdue,
!

For ambition, I said, would soon cure me of love. A love so well founded, a passion so true.
O ! what had my youth with ambition to do ? O what had my youth with ambition to do
! ?

Why left I Aminta, why broke I my vow ? Why left I Aminta, why broke I my vow ?

O give me my sheep, and my sheep-hook

! restore, O give me my sheep, and my sheep-hook restore^
!

I'll wander from love and Aminta no more. I'll wander from love and Aminta no more.

Alas ! 'tis too late at thy fate to repine :

Poor shepherd, Aminta no more can be thine :

Thy tears are all fruitless, thy wishes are vain,

The moments neglected return not again !

O ! what had my youth, &c.

vol. i. c.
 ;

10

FARE WEL TO LOCHABER.

WRITTE N

Br ALLAN RAM SAY.

AIR LOCHABER.

Fa re wel to Lochaber, farewel to my Jean, Tho' hurricanes rise, and raise every wind,
Where heartsome with thee I have mony day been They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my mind ;

For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, Tho' loudest of thunder on louder waves roar,

We'll may-be return to Lochaber no more. That's naething like leaving my love on the shore.
These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear, To leave thee behind me, my heart is sair pain'd
And not for the dangers attending on weir ; But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd
Tho' bore on rough seas to a far bloody shore, And beauty and love 's the reward of the brave,

May-be to return to Lochaber no more. And I maun deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory,my Jeany, maun plead my excuse ;

Since honour commands me, how can I refuse ?

Without it, I ne'er can have merit for thee,
And losing thy favour I'd better not be.

I gae then, my lass, to win honour and fame,

And if I should chance to come gloriously hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

YE SHEPHERDS AND NYMPHS.

WRITTEN

Br WILLIAM HAMILTON, Esz,

OF BJNGOUR.

THE SA ME AIR.

Y e shepherds and nymphs that adorn the gay plain, I fall at her feet, and implore her with tears ;

Approach from your sports, and attend to my strain ; Her answer confounds, while her manner endears ;

Amongst all your number a lover so true, When softly she tells me to hope no relief,

Was ne'er so undone with such bliss in his view. My trembling lips bless her in spite of my grief.

Was nymph so hard-hearted as mine

ever a !

She knows me sincere, and she sees how I pine :

By night while I slumber, still haunted with care,
I start up in anguish, and sigh for the fair :
She does not disdain me, nor frown in her wrath ;

But calmly and mildly resigns me to death.

The fair sleeps in peace may she ever do so; !

And only when dreaming imagine my woe.

She calls me her friend, but her lover denies ;
Then gaze at a distance, nor farther aspire,
She smiles when I'm cheerful, but hears not my sighs. Nor think she should love whom she cannot admire
A bosom so flinty, so gentle an air, Hush all thy complaining and, dying her slave, ;

Inspires me with hope, and yet bids me despair. Commend her to heav'n, and thyself to the grave.
 — r •

10

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 11

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P wan _ der thro' the bloo _ mingf heather; But Yar _ _ row braes^ nor
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 ; ; ;

11

BR A W LADS ON YARROW BRAES,

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR G ALL A WATER.

O r A Wj braw lads on Yarrow braes, Altho' his daddie was nae laird,

Ye wander thro' the blooming heather And tho' I hae na meikle tocher,
But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick shaws, Yet rich in kindest, truest love,

Can match the lads o' Galla water. We'll tent our flocks by Galla water.

But there is ane, a secret ane, It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
Aboon them a' I . loo him better That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure ;

And I'll be his, and he'll be mine, The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
The bonnie lad o' Galla water. O that's the chiefest warld's treasure !

MARY'S CHARMS SUBDUED MY BREAST.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br the Hon. ANDRE W ERSKINE

of Kellie.

THE SAME AIR

M ary's charms subdued my breast, Years of nuptial bliss have roll'd,

Her glowing youth, her manner winning, And still I've found her more endearing
My faithful vows I fondly press'd, Each wayward passion she controul'd,
And mark'd the sweet return beginning, Each anxious care, each sorrow cheering.

Fancy warmly on my mind, Children now in ruddy bloom,

Yet paints that evening's dear declining ;
With artless look attention courting
When raptur'd first I found her kind, Their infant smiles dispel each gloom,
Her melting soul to love resigning. Around our hut so gaily sporting.
 — ; —
; ; ; ; D ; ;

12

BUSK YE, BUSK YE, MY BONNY BONNY BRI

WRITTEN
Br WILLIAM HAMILTON, Esz-

AIR. -THE BRAES OF YARROW.

A. JOusk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride ;
Curse ye, curse ye, his useless useless shield, Much I rejoic'd that waeful waeful day ;

Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow; My arm that wrought the deid of sorrow, I sang, my voice the woods returning ;

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bonny bride, The fatal spear that pierced his breast, But lang ere night the spear was flown
And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow. His comely breast on the braes of Yarrow. That slew my love and left me mourning.
B. Where gat ye that bonny bonny bride ? Did I not warn thee not to lue, What can my barbarous, barbarous father do,
Where gat ye that winsome marrow ? And warn from fight ? But to my sorrow, But with his cruel rage pursue me ?

A. I gat her where I dare nae weil be feen, O'er rashly bald, a stronger arm My luver's blood is on thy spear,
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow. Thou met'st and fell on the braes of Yarrow. How can'st thou, barbarous man, then woo me i~

Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride ;

Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows the grass, My happy sisters may be, may be proud
Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow, Yellow on Yarrow's banks the gowan, With cruel and ungentle scoffing,

Nor let thy heart lament to leave Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, May bid me saek on Yarrow braes
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow : Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan. My luver nailed in his coffin.
B. Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride ? Flows Yarrow sweet ? as sweet, as sweet flows Tweed, My brother Douglas may upbraid,
Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow ? As green its grass, its gowan yellow, •
And strive with threat'ning words to move me.
And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen, As sweet »mells on its braes the birk, My luver's blood is on thy spear,

Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow ? The apple frae the rock as mellow. How can'st thou ever bid me luve thee ?

A. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep, Fair was thy luve, fair fair indeed thy luve, Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve >

Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow ; In flow'ry bands thou him didst fetter With bridal sheets my body cover ;

And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen Tho' he was fair and well beluv'd again, Unbar, ye bridal maids the door,
Puing the birks on the braes of Yarrow Than me he never lued thee better. Let in the expected husband luver.
For she has tint hir luver luver dear, Busk ye, then busk, my bonny bonny bride, But who the expected husband husband is ?

Hir luver dear, the cause of sorrow ; Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow, His hands, methinks are bath'd in slaughter ;

And I hae slain the comeliest swain Busk ye, and lue me on the banks of Tweed, Ah me what ghastly spectre's yon
That e'er pu'd birks on the braes of Yarrow. And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow. Comes in his pale shroud bleeding after?

Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow, Yarrow, red ? C.How can I busk a bonny bonny bride ? Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down,
Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow ? How can I busk a winsome marrow ? O ! lay his cold head on my pillow ;

And why yon melancholeous weeds, How lue him on the banks of Tv/eed, Tak' aff, tak' aff, these bridal weids,
Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow ? That slew my luve on the braes of Yarrow ? And crown my careful head with willow.
What yonder floats on the rueful, rueful stream ? O Yarrow fields, may never never rain, Pale tho' thou art, yet best, yet best beluv'd,
What yonder floats O dule and sorrow ? ! No dew thy tender blossoms cover ;
O could my warmth to life restore thee '.

'Tis he, the comely swain I slew For there was basely slain my luve, Yet lie all night between my breasts,
Upon the doleful braes of Yarrow ! My luve, as he had not been a luver. No youth lay ever there before thee.

Wash, O wash his wounds, his wounds in tears, The boy put on his robes, his robes of green, Pale, pale indeed, O luvely luvely youth,
His wounds in tears, with dule and sorrow His purple vest, 'twas my ain sewing '.
Forgive, forgive, so foul a slaughter '.

And wrap his limbs in mourning weeds, Ah ! wretched me '.

I little little kend And lie all night between my breasts;
And lay him on the braes of Yarrow. He was in these to meet his ruin. No youth shall ever lie there after.
Then build, then build, ye sisters sisters sad, The boy took out his milk-white milk-white steed, A. Return, return, O mournful mournful bride,
Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow ; Unheedful of my dule and sorrow; Return, and dry thy useless sorrow ;

And weep around in waeful wise But ere the toofal of the night, Thy luver heeds nought of thy sighs,
His hapless fate on the braes of Yarrow. He lay a corpse on the braes of Yarrow. He lies a corpse on the braes of Yarrow.

THY BRAES WERE BONNY, O YARROW STREAM!

WRITTEN
Br the TLev. Mr. LOGAN.
THE SAME AIR.
TWhen ii y braes were bonny,
first on them I
O * Yarrow stream
met my lover
! Sweet were
My
his words when
passion I as freely told
last
him
we met
:
No
Thou
longer from thy window
hast no son, thou tender mother!
look,

Thy braes how dreary, O Yarrow stream '.

Clasp'd in his arms, I little thought No longer walk, thou lovely maid,
When now thy waves his body cover. That I should never more behold him. Alas, thou hast no more a brother !

For ever now, O Yarrow stream ! Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost; No longer seek him east or west,
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow : And search no more the forest thorough :

For never on thy banks shall I Thrice did the water-wraith ascend, For wandering in the night so dark,
Bp'noid my love, the flower of Yarrow. And gave a doleful groan through Yarrow. He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow.

He promis'd me a milk-white steed, His mother from the window look'd, The tear shall never leave my cheek,
To bear me to his father's bowers ; With all the longing of a mother ; No other youth shall be my marrow;
He promis'd me a little page, His little sister weeping walk'd I'll seek thy body in the stream,
To squire me to his father's towers ; The green-wood path to meet her brother ; And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow.
He promis'd me a wedding-ring, They sought him east, they sought him west, The tear did never leave her cheek, -

The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow : They sought him all the forest thorough ;
No other youth became her marrow
Now he is wedded to his grave, They only saw the cloud of night, She found his body in the stream,
Alas', his watery grave in Yarrow. They only heard the roar of Yarrow '.
And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.

* The critical Reader will observe, that in the first and third lines of the first verse, the interjection 0 is added, to suit the measure of the Air ; — but in gencisi

that liberties of this kind are taken only when found absolutely'necessary.
It is here to be observed also, with respect to this as well as other Songs, that where the Air requires the first word of the line to be emphatic, and the Poet som:-
times inadvertently throws his emphasis upon the second word or syllable, — the Singer has only in such a case to supply a Quaver for the unemphatic first word.
 — - —
- — ——

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Busk ve, busk ye my bonny bonny bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my win — some marrow,
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Busk ye, busk ye my bonny bonny bride, And think nae mair on the braes of Yar_ row.

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Where g-ot ye that I >onny bonny bride? "\

Vhere g-ot ye that win_some mar _ row?

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In A_pril

A_pril
when Primroses

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when Primroses
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paint the sweet plain,

plain. And summer

And summer
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 ; ; !

IN APRIL, WHEN PRIMROSES.

WR ITT F.N
Br ALLAN RAMSAY.

AIR THE YELLOW HAIR'D LADDIE.

Jn April, when primroses paint the sweet plain, But Susie is handsome, and sweetly can sing,

And summer approaching rejoiceth the swain ;

Her breath 's like the breezes perfum'd in the spring.

The yellow-haird laddie would oftentimes go

That Madie, in all the gay bloom of her youth,
To wilds and deep glens, where the hawthorn trees grow. Like the moon is inconstant, and never spoke truth ;

There, under the shade of an old sacred thorn, But Susie is faithful, good-humour' d and free,

With freedom he sung his loves ev'ning and morn ; And fair as the goddess who sprung from the sea.

He sung with so soft and enchanting a sound,

That mamma's fine daughter, Avith all her great dow'r
That Sylvans and Faries unseen danc'd around.
Was aukwardly airy, and frequently sour ;

The shepherd thus sung :—Tho' young Madie be fair, Then, sighing, he wish'd, would parents agree,

Her beauty is dash'd with a scornful proud air The witty sweet Susie his mistress might be.

BE STILL, O YE WINDS, AND ATTENTIVE, YE SWAINS.

WRITTEN

Br Mr EDWARD MOORE.

THE SAME AIR.

Col, JlSe still, O ye winds, and attentive ye swains, Col. O'er hill, dale, and valley, my Phebe and I

'Tis Phebe invites, and replies to my strains ; Together shall wander, and love will be by:
The sun never rose on, search all the world through, Her Colin shall guard her safe all the day long,

A shepherd so blest, or a fair one so true. Which Phebe at night will repay with a song.

Ph. Glide softly, ye streams; ye nymphs round me throng; Ph. By moon-light, when shadows glide over the plain,

'Tis Colin commands, and enlivens my song : His kisses shall cheer me, his arms shall sustain ;

Search all the world over, you never can find The dark haunted grove I can trace without fear,

A maiden so blest, or a shepherd so kind. Or sleep in a church-yard if Colin is near.

Col. When Phebe is with me, the seasons are gay, Col. Ye shepherds that wanton it over the plain,
And winter's bleak months are as pleasant as May How fleeting your transports', how lasting your pain

The summer's gay verdure still springs as she treads, Inconstancy shun, and reward the kind she,
And linnets and nightingales sing through the meads. And learn to be happy from Phebe and me.

Ph.When Colin is absent, 'tis winter all round ; Ph. Ye nymphs, who the pleasures of love never tried.

How faint is the sunshine, how barren the ground ? Attend to my strains, and let me be your guide :

Instead of the linnet or nightingale's song, Your hearts keep from pride and inconstancy free,
I hear the hoarse raven croak all the day long. And learn to be happy from Colin and me.

Both. 'Tis love, like the sun, that gives light to the year,

The sweetest of blessings that life can endear ;

Our pleasure it brightens, drives sorrow away,

Gives joy to the night, and enlivens the day.
 : ;: ; ;

14

'TWAS IN THAT SEASON OF THE YEAR.

WRITTEN

Br RICHARD HE WIT.

AIR- -ROS.LIN CASTLE.

'Twas in that season of the year, O hark, my love, on every spray

When all things gay and sweet appear, Each feather'd warbler tunes his lay-;

That Colin, with the morning ray, 'Tis beauty fires the ravish'd throng,

Arose and sung his rural lay And love inspires the melting song :

Of Nanny's charms the shepherd sung, Then let my ravish'd notes arise,
The hills and dales with Nanny rung, For beauty darts from Nanny's eyes,
While Roslin castle heard the swain, And love my rising bosom warms,
And echo'd back the cheerful strain. And fills my soul with sweet alarms.

Awake, sweet muse, the breathing spring O come, my love, thy Colin's lay
With rapture warms, awake and sing With rapture calls, O come away ;

Awake and join the vocal throng, Come, while the Muse this wreath shall twin

And hail the morning with a song Around that modest brow of thine ;

To Nanny raise the cheerful lay, O hither haste, and with thee bring

O bid her haste and come away ; That beauty blooming like the spring,

In sweetest smiles herself adorn, Those graces that divinely shine,

And add new graces to the morn. And charm this ravish'd heart of mine.

WHEN DELIA ON THE PLAIN APPEARS.

WRITTEN

Br LORD LYTTLETON.

THE SAME AIR.

W hen Delia on
Aw'd by
the plain appears,
a thousand tender fears,
If she

Though
some other swain commend,
I was once his fondest friend,

I would approach, but dare not move ; His instant enemy I prove ;

Tell me, my heart, if this be love ? Tell me, my heart, if this be love ?

Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear When she is absent, I no more

No other voice but her's can hear Delight in all that pleas'd before,

No other wit but her's approve ; The clearest spring, or shady grove ;

Tell me, my heart, if this be love ? Tell me, my heart, if this be love ?

When fond of pow'r, of beauty vain,

Her nets, she spread for ev'ry swain,
I strove to hate, but vainly strove
Tell me, my heart, if this be love ?
 « i

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Ros„ lin cas _ tie heard the swain And e_ cho'd back the chearful strain.

* The above Syrru & Accomp^ composed hv Havdn and fiVof r>"^ in ISO.*?
 k

15

»
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From thee E _ li_za I must go, And from my native shore: The cru _ el fates be _

=1
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 ;

15

FROM THEE, ELIZA, I MUST GO.

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR DONALD.

rom thee, Eliza, I must go, Farewel, farewel, Eliza dear,

And from my native shore : The maid that I adore !

The cruel fates between us throw A boding voice is in mine ear,

A boundless ocean's roar : We part to meet no more !

But boundless oceans, roaring wide, But the last throb that leaves my heart,

Between my Love and me, While Death stands victor by,

They never never can divide That throb, Eliza, is thy part,
My heart and soul from thee. And thine that latest sigh !

TO SLEEP.

WRITTEN

Br Mrs BJRBJULD.

THE SAME AIR.

Come, gentle God of soft repose, Let hope, in some propitious dream,

Come, soothe this tortur'd breast Her bright illusions spread ;

Shed kind oblivion o'er my woes, Once more let rays of comfort beam

And lull my cares to rest. Around my drooping head.

Come, gentle God, without thy aid O quickly send thy kind relief,

I sink in dark despair ;

These heart-felt pangs remove ;

O wrap me in thy silent shade, Let me forget myself, my grief,

For peace is only there. —
And every care but love !
 : ;! !

1'6

GIN LIVING WORTH COULD WIN MY HEART.

AIR— —THE WAEFU' HEART.

i n living worth could win my heart, Yet oh ! gin heav'n in mercy soon

You wou'd na speak in vain ; Would grant the boon I crave,

But in the darksome grave it's laid, And tak' this life, now naething worth,
Ne'er, ne'er to rise again. Sin Jamie 's in his grave.

My waefu' heart lies low wi' his, And see his gentle spirit comes
Whose heart was only mine ; To shew me on my way,
And oh what a heart was
! that to lose ! Surpris'd, nae doubt, I still am here,

But I maun no repine. Sair wond'ring at my stay !

I come, I come, my Jamie dear,

And oh ! wi' what gude will

I follow, wheresoe'er ye lead,

Ye canna lead to ill.

She said, and soon a deadlie pale

Her faded cheek possest

Her waefu' heart forgot to beat,

Her sorrows sunk to rest

O CEASE TO MOURN, UNHAPPY YOUTH!

THE SAME AIR.

cease to mourn, unhappy youth ! My wasted day, in endless sighs,

Or think this bosom hard No sound of comfort hears ;

My tears, alas ! must own your truth, And morn but breaks on Delia's eyes
And wish it could reward. To wake her into tears.

Th' excess of unabating woe, If sleep should lend her friendly aid,

This tortur'd breast endures, In fancy I complain,

Too well, alas must make me know ! And hear some sad, some wretched maid,
The pain that dwells in your's. Or see some perjur'd swain.

Condemn'd like you to weep in vain, Then cease thy suit, fond youth> O cease !

I seek the darkest grove, Or blame the Fates alone ;

And fondly bear the sharpest pain For how can I restore your peace,
Of never-hoping love. Who quite have lost my own ?
 — • M . . — —

16
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 ; ; ; : ;

1/

THERE'S AULD ROB MORRIS,

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK.

Br BURNS.

AIR AULD ROB MORRIS.

JL here's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, But oh, she 's an heiress, auld Robin 's a laird,

He 's the king of gude fellows, and wale of auld men ; And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard :

He has gowd in his coffers, he has sheep, he has kine, A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed ;

And ae bonny lassie, his darling and mine. The wounds I maun hide which will soon be my dead.

She 's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May, The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane :

She 's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay ; The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane
As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea, I wander my lane, lik<; a night-troubled ghaist,
And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e. And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

0 had she but been of a lower degree,

1 then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me 3

O, how past descriving had then been my bliss,

As now my distraction no words can express 1

THE NYMPH THAT UNDOES ME.

THE SAME AIR.

T h e nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind,

No less than a wonder by Nature design'd
She's the grief of my heart, and the joy of my eye,

And the cause of a flame that never can die.

Her mouth, from whence wit obligingly flows,

Has the beautiful blush, and the smell of the rose

Love and destiny both attend on her will

She wounds with a look, with a frown she can kill.

The desperate lover can hope no redress,

Where beauty and rigour are both in excess
In Sylvia they meet ; so unhappy am I,

Who sees her must love her, who loves her must die.

VOL. I. E.
 } : ;
: ;

18

ONE MORNING VERY EARLY.

SAID TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN IN BEDLAM

Br A NEGRO.

AIR—-GRAMACHREE.

' n e morning very early, one morning in the spring, I'll make a strawy garland, I'll make it wond'rous fine ;

I heard a maid in Bedlam who mournfully did sing With roses, lilies, daisies, I'll mix the eglantine

Her chains she rattled on her hands, while sweetly thus sung she And I'll present it to my Love when he returns frorr\ sea ;

I love my Love, because I know my Love loves me. For I love my Love, I know my Love loves
because me.

O ! cruel were his parents, who sent my Love to sea, Oh, if I were a little bird, to build upon his breast !

And cruel, cruel was the ship, that bore my Love from me ; Or if I were a nightingale, my love to rest to sing !

Yet I love his parents, since they're his, altho' they've ruin'd me; To gaze upon his lovely eyes, all my reward should be ;
And I love my Love, because I know my Love loves me. For I love my Love, because I know my Love loves me.

O ! should it please the pitying pow'rs to call me to the sky, Oh, if I were an eagle, to soar into the sky !

I'd claim a guardian-angel's charge around my Love to fly; I'd gaze around with piercing eyes where I my Love might spy
To guard him from all dangers how happy should I be; But ah, unhappy maiden ! that Love you ne'er shall see !

For I love my Love, because I know my Love loves me. Yet I love my Love, because I know my Love loves me.

HAD I A HEART FOR FALSEHOOD FRAM'D.

WRITTEN

Br R. B. SHERIDAN, Est.

THE SAME AIR.

Had I a heart for falsehood fram'd, I ne'er could injure you ;

For tho' your tongue no promise claim'd, your charms would make me true;
To you no soul shall bear deceit, no stranger offer wrong
But friends in all the ag'd you'll meet, and lovers in the young.

But when they learn that you have blest another with your heart,

They'll bid aspiring passion rest, and act a brother's part

Then, lady, dread not their deceit, nor fear to suffer wrong ;

For friends in all the ag'd you'll meet, and brothers in the young.
 1 ——

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One
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sweetlv thus sung- s le I love my Lovehecausel know _ _ _ my Love loves me.

* The above Sym

S
. & Accomp? composed by Haydn and first pub. in 1803
 — 1 —

19

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 —

19

O WALT WALY UP THE BANK.

AIR- WALY WALY.

0 waly waly up the bank, Now Arthur-seat sail be my bed,
And waly waly down the brae, The sheets sail ne'er be warm'd by me ;

And waly waly yon burn-side,- Saint Anton's well sail be my drink,

Where I and my Love wont to gae. Since my true Love's forsaken me.

1 leant my back unto an aik, O Mart'mas wind ! when wilt thou blaw,
I thought it was a trustie tree ; And shake the green leaves aff the tree ?

But first it bow'd, and syne it brake, O gentle death ! when wilt thou come,
Sae my true Love did lightly me. And tak' a life that wearies me.

O waly waly love is bonny, 'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

A little time, while it is new ; Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie ;

But when it's auld, it waxeth cauld, 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,

And fades awa' like morning dew. But my Love's heart grown cauld to me.

O wherefore should I busk my head ? Whan we came in by Glasgow town,

O wherefore should I kame my hair ? We were a comely sight to see ;

For my true Love has me forsook My Love was the black velvet, i'

And says he'll never lo'e me mair. And I mysell in cramasie.

But had I wist before I kist,

That love had been sae ill to win,

I had lock'd my heart in a case of gowd,

And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.

Oh, Oh ! if my young babe were born,

And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I mysell were dead and gone,
For a maid again I'll never be !

HARD JS THE FATE OF HIM WHO LOVES.

WRITTEN
Br THOMSON.

THE SAME AIR.

JHTard is the fate of him who. loves, O ! tell her what she cannot blame,
Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, Tho' fear my tongue must ever bind ;

But to the sympathetic groves, O ! tell her that my virtuous flame

But to the lonely list'ning plain. Is as her spotless soul refin'd.

Oh when she blesses next your shade,

! Not her own guardian-angel, eyes
Oh when her footsteps next are seen,
! With chaster tenderness his care,
In flow'ry tracks along the mead, Nor purer her own wishes rise,

In fresher mazes o'er the green. Not holier her own sighs in pray'r.

Ye gentle spirits of the vale, But if, at first, her virgin fear
To whom the tears of love are dear, Should start at love's suspected name,
From dying lilies waft a gale, With that of friendship sooth her ear
And sigh my sorrows in her ear. True love and friendship are the same.
 ; : ; ; — ;

20

AH! CHLORIS, COULD I NOW BUT SIT.

AIR. -GILDEROY.
AAs h ! Chloris, could I now but sit, Your charms in harmless childhood lay My passion with your beauty grew,
unconcern' d as when As metals in a mine ;
•
While Cupid, at my heart,
Your infant beauty could beget Age from no face takes more away, Still as his mother favour'd you,
No happiness nor pain. Than youth conceal'd in thine. Threw a new flaming dart.
When I this dawning did admire, But as your charms insensibly Each gloried in their wanton part j

And praised the coming day, To their perfection prest ;

To make a beauty, she
I little thought that rising fire, So love as unperceiv'd did fly, Employ'd the utmost of her art

Would take my rest away. And center'd in my breast. To make a lover, he.

THE OLD SONG OF GILDEROY.

[The Hero of this elegant Lamentation was a celebrated Highland Freebooter, who was executed at Edinburgh.']

THE SAME AIR.

roy was a bonny boy, Wi' we spent our prime,

mikle joy Wae worth the louns that made the laws
Had roses till his shoon ; we were baith sixteen,
Till To hang a man for gear ;

His stockings were of silken soy, And aft we past the langsame time To reave of life for sic a cause
Wi' garters hanging doun. Amang the leaves sae green : As stealing horse or mare !

It was, I ween, a comelie sight Aft on the banks we'd sit us there, Had not their laws been made sae strick,
To see sae trim a boy : And sweetly kiss and toy ;
I ne'er had lost my joy ;

He was my joy and heart's delight, While he wi' garlands deck'd my hair, Wi' sorrow ne'er had wat my cheek
My handsome Gilderoy. My handsome Gilderoy. '
For my dear Gilderoy !

O sic twa charming een he had \ Oh that he still had been content Gif Gilderoy had done amiss,
Breath sweet as ony rose : Wi' me to lead his life !
He might hae banisht been j—
He never wore a Highland plaid, But, ah ! his manfu' heart was bent Ah, what sair cruelty is this,
But costly silken clothes. To stir in feats of strife. To hang sic handsome men !

He gain'd the luve of ladies gay, And he in many a vent'rous deed To hang the flower o' Scottish land,
Nane e'er to him was coy : His courage bauld wad try ;
Sae sweet and fair a boy :

Ah, wae is me I mourn the day

! And this now gars my heart to bleed Nae lady had sae white a hand
For my dear Gilderoy. For my dear Gilderoy !
As thee, my Gilderoy.

My Gilderoy and I were born And when of me his leave he tuik, Of Gilderoy sae fear'd they were,
Baith in ae toun thegither The tears they wat my e'e ;
Wi' irons his limbs they strung
We scant were seven years beforn I gied him sic a parting luik ! To Edinhorow led him there,
We gan to luve ilk ither :
c
My benison gang wi' thee ! And on a gallows hung.
Our daddies and our mammies they ' God speed thee weil mine ain dear heart, They hung him high aboon the rest,
Were fill'd wi' mikle joy, ' For gane is all my joy ;
He was sae bauld a boy
To think upon the bridal day ' My heart is rent sith we maun part, There died the youth whom I lued best,,

Of me and Gilderoy. My handsome Gilderoy

c !' My handsome Gilderoy !

For Gilderoy, that luve of mine, My Gilderoy, baith far and near, Sune as he yielded up his breath
Gude faith I freely bought Was fear'd in cv'ry toun I bare his corse away,
A wedding sark of Holland fine, And bauldly bare awa' the geir Wi' tears that trickled for his death
Wi' dainty ruffles wrought Of mony a lawland loun. I wash'd his comelie clay;

And he gied me a wedding-ring, For man to man durst meet him nane, And sicker in a grave right deep

Which I receiv'd wi' joy : He was sae brave a boy ;

I laid the dear lued boy;
Nae lad nor lassie e'er could sing At length wi' numbers he was tane, And now for ever I maun weep
Like me and Gilderoy. My winsome Gilderoy. Mv winsome Gilderoy !
 — . u — ( 6 —

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21

OH, OPEN THE DOOR, SOME PITY TO SHEW.

AS ALTERED FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR, OPEN THE DOOR.

h, open the door, some pity to shew, The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh And time is setting with me, Oh 1

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, False friends, false Love, farewel ! for more
Oh, open the door to me, Oh ! I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh !

Oh, cold is the blast upon my pale cheek, She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide,
But colder thy love for me, Oh ! She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh !

The frost that freezes the life at my breast, " My true love !" she cried, —and sunk down by his side,

Is nought to my pains from thee, Oh ! Never to rise again, Oh !

VOL. I. P.
 ; : ; : ; —— !

22

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS BLAWN.

WRITTEN FOE THIS WORK
Br BURNS.

AIR—THE MILL MILL, 0!

W hen wild War's deadly blast was blawn, Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
And gentle Peace returning, And lovelier was tban ever ;

Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, Quo' she, a soldier ance I lo'ed,

And mony a widow mourning. Forget him shall I never

I left the lines, and tented field, Our humble cot, and hamely fare,

Where lang I'd been a lodger, Ye freely shall partake it,

My humble knapsack a' my wealth, That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

A poor and honest soldier. Ye're welcome for the sake o't.

A leal, light heart was in my breast, She gaz'd — she redden'd like a rose
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder Syne pale like ony lily,

And for fair Scotia, hame again, She sank within my arms, and cried,
I cheery on did wander. Art thou my ain dear Willie ? -

I thought upon the banks o' Coil, By Him who made yon sun and sky I

I thought upon my Nancy, By whom true love 's regarded,

I thought upon the witching smile I am the man —and thus may still

That caught my youthful fancy : True lovers be rewarded !

At length I reach'd the bonny glen, The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
Where early life I sported And find thee still true-hearted ;

I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn, Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,

Where Nancy aft I courted And mair, —we'se ne'er be parted

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,
Down by her mother's dwelling ! A mailin plenish'd fairly ;

And turn'd me round to hide the flood And come, my faithful soldier lad,

That in my een was swelling. Thou'rt welcome to it dearly !

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass, For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, The farmer ploughs the manor ;

O ! happy, happy may he be, But glory is the soldier's prize,

That 's dearest to thy bosom : The soldier's wealth is honour ;

My purse is light, I've far to gang, The brave poor soldier ne'er despise,
And fain wad be thy lodger ;
Nor count him as a stranger
I've serv'd my king and country lang, Remember, he 's his country's stay

Take pity on a soldier ! In day and hour of danger.

AT SETTING DAY AND RISING MORN.

WEITTEN
Br ALLAN RAMSAY.
THE SAME AIR.

Jk t setting day and rising morn, To all our haunts I will repair,

With soul that still shall love thee, By greenwood- shaw or fountain ;
I'll ask of heav'n thy safe return, Or where the summer day I'd share
With all that can improve thee. With thee, upon yon mountain.
I'll visit oft the birken bush, There will I tell the trees and flow 'fs,

Where first thou kindly told me From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,

Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush, By vows you're mine, — by love is your's

Whilst round thou didst enfold me. A heart that cannot wander.
 — £ — L —
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 . ; !

23

THE NIGHT HER SILENT SABLE WORE.

AIR SHE ROSE AND LET ME IN.

The night her silent sable wore, Then who would cruelly deceive,

And gloomy were the skies, Or from such beauty part

Of glitt'ring stars appear'd no more I lov'd her so, I could not leave

Than those in Nelly's eyes. The charmer of my heart.

When to her father's door I came, My eager fondness I obey'd,

Where I had often been, Resolv'd she should be mine,

I begg'd my fair, my lovely dame, 'Till Hymen to my arms convey'd
To rise and let me in. My treasure so divine.

But she, with accents all divine, Now happymy Nelly's love,
in

Did my fond suit reprove ; Transporting is my joy :

And while she chid my rash design., No greater blessing can I prove ;

She but inflam'd my love. So blest a man am I.

Her beauty oft had pleas'd before, For beauty may a while retain

While her bright eyes did roll The conquer'd fluttering heart,

But virtue only had the pow'r But virtue only is the chain
To charm my very soul. Holds never to depart.

THE HEAVY HOURS ARE ALMOST PAST.

WRITTEN

Br LORD LYTTLETON.

THE SA E AIR.

T he heavy hours are almost past, Thus, Delia, thus I paint the scene
That part my Love and me ; When shortly we shall meet,
My longing eyes may hope at last And try what yet remains between
Their only wish to see. Of loit'ring time to cheat.
But how, my Delia, will you meet
The man you've lost so long ?
But if the dream that soothes my mind,

Will love in all your pulses beat, Shall false and groundless prove ;

And tremble on your tongue ?

If I am doom'd, at length, to find
'

You have forgot to love ;

Will you, in every look, declare All I of Venus ask is this,

Your heart is still the same ? No more to let us join ;

And heal each idle anxious care But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss,

Our fears in absence frame ? To die, and think you mine.

 ; ;: ; ; ;

24

SWEET ANNIE FRAE THE SEA-BEACH CAME,

AIR- •SWEET ANNIE.

Sweet Annie frae the sea-beach came, Nae mair, false Jamie, sing nae mair,

Where Jocky speel'd the vessel's side ; And fairly cast your pipe away ;

Ah wha ! can keep their heart at hame, My Jocky wad be troubled sair,

When Jocky's tost aboon the tide ; To see his friend his love betray

Far aff to distant realms he gangs, For a' your songs and verse are vain,
Yet I'll be true as he has been ; While Jocky's notes do faithful flow,

And when ilk lass about him thrangs, My heart to him shall true remain,
He'll think on Annie, his faithful ain. I'll keep it for my constant jo.

I met our wealthy laird yestreen, Blaw saft, ye gales, round Jocky's head,
Wi' gowd in hand he tempted me, And gar your waves be calm and still

He prais'd my brow, my rolling een, His hameward sail with breezes speed,
And made a brag of what he'd gi'e : And dinna all my pleasure spill
What though my Jocky 's far away, What though my Jocky's far away,
Tost up and down the awsome main, Yet he will braw in siller shine

I'll keep my heart anither day, I'll keep my heart anither day,

Since Jocky may return again. Since Jocky may again be mine.

TO FAIR FIDELE'S GRASSY TOMB.

written

Br COLLINS.

THE SAME AIR.

T o fair Fidele's grassy tomb, The red-breast oft at ev'ning hours,

Soft maids and village-hinds shall bring Shall kindly lend his little aid,

Each op'ning sweet of earliest bloom, With hoary moss and gather'd flow'rs,

And rifle all the breathing spring. To deck the ground where thou art laid.

No wailing ghost shall dare appear When howling winds and beating rain
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove In tempests shake the sylvan cell

But shepherd lads assemble here, Or, midst the chace upon the plain,
And melting virgins own their love. The tender thought on thee shall dwell.

No wither'd witch shall here be seen, Each lonely scene shall thee restore,

No goblins lead their nightly crew ; For thee the tear be duly shed ;

But female fays shall haunt the green, Belov'd till life can charm no more,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew. And mourn'd till pity's self be dead.
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 :

25

SHEPHERDS I HAVE LOST MY LOVE.

AIR THE BANKS OF BANNA.

Shepherds, I have lost my Love; Never shall I see them more

Have you seen my Anna ? Until her returning
Pride of ev'ry shady grove, All the joys of life are o'er,

Upon the tanks of Banna ! From gladness chang'd to mourning.

I for her my home forsook, Whither is my charmer flown ?

Near yon misty mountain ; Shepherds tell me whither ?

Left my flock, my pipe, my crook, Ah, woe for me, perhaps she's gone
Greenwood shade and fountain. For ever and for ever !

VOL. I. G.
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26

O STAY, SWEET WARBLING WOOD-LARK, STAT.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR LOCHERROCH SIDE.

ay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,

Nor quit for me the trembling spray,

A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art
For surely that would touch her heart
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.

Say, was thy little mate unkind,

And heard thee as the careless wind ?

Oh, nought but love and sorrow join'd,

Sic notes of woe could wauken !

Thou tells of never-ending care,

Of speechless grief, and dark despair :

For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair.,

Or my poor heart is broken !

vol. i. h. . . PART II.

 — : ; ; : : ; ; ;;

27

HERE IS THE GLEN, AND HERE THE BOWER.

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH.

ere is the glen, and here the bower, It is Maria's voice I hear !

All underneath the birchen shade So calls the woodlark in the grove,

The village bell has told the hour, His little faithful mate to cheer,
O what can stay my lovely maid ! At once 'tis music, —and 'tis love !

'Tis not Maria's whispering call ;

And art thou come, and art thou true !

'Tis but the balmy, breathing gale, O welcome dear to love and me !

Mixt with some warbler's dying fall, And let us all our vows renew,
The dewy star of eve to hail. Along the flowery banks of Cree.

THE SUN IN VIRGIN LUSTRE SHONE.

THE SAME AIR.

'The sun in virgin lustre shone, Forth came the maid, in beauty bright,
May-morning put its beauties on : As Phoebus in meridian light

The warblers sung in livelier strains, Entranc'd in rapture, all confest,

And sweeter flow'rets deck'd the plains : The shepherd clasp'd her to his breast
When Love, a soft intruding guest, Then gazing with a speaking eye,
That long had dwelt in Damon's breast, He snatch'd a kiss and heav'd a sigh,

Now whisper'd, " To the nymph away ! A melting sigh, and seem'd to say,
" For this is Nature's holiday." Consider youth's our holiday.

The tender impulse wing'd his haste Ah soft, (she said) for pity's sake !

The painted mead he instant pass'd What kiss one e'er I'm well awake ?
!

And soon the happy cot he gain'd For this so early came you here ?

Where beauty slept, and silence reign'd And hail you thus the rising year ?

Awake, my fair ! (the shepherd cries), Sweet innocence ! forbear to chide,

To new-born pleasures ope thine eyes We'll haste to joy, (the swain replied)
Arise, my Sylvia ! hail the May, In pleasure's flow'ry fields we'll stray,

For this is Nature's holiday ! And this shall be love's holiday.

A crimson glow warm'd o'er her cheek,

She look'd the thing she dar'd not speak

Consent own'd Nature's soft command,

And Damon seiz'd her trembling hand :

His dancing heart in transports play'd,

To church he led the blushing maid ;

Then bless'd the happy morn of May

And now their life's all holiday !
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28

THE DAY RETURNS, MY BOSOM BURNS.

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR THE SEVENTH OF NOVEMBER.

Th e day returns, my bosom burns,

The blissful day we twa did meet,
Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd,

Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet.

Than a' the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses o'er the sultry line ;

Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,

Heav'n gave me more, it made thee mine !

While day and night can bring delight,

Or nature aught of pleasure give ;

While joys above my mind can move,

For thee, and thee alone I live

When that grim foe of life below,

Comes in between to bid us part
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my bliss, — it breaks my heart
 ; ; . ; —— ;

29

O WERE I ON PARNASSUS' HILL,

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR O JEAN, I LOVE THEE.

were I on Parnassus' hill, Then come, sweet muse, inspire my lay *

Or had of Helicon my fill, For a' the lee-lang simmer's day,

That I might catch poetic skill, I cou'dna sing, I cou'dna say,

To how dear I love thee.

sing How much, how dear I love thee.

But Nith maun be my Muse's well, I see thee dancing o'er the green,
My Muse maun be thy bonie sell SKI
*.. Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean,
On Corsincon * I'll glowr and spell, Thy tempting lips, thy glancing e'en,
And write how dear I love thee. By heaven and earth I love thee !

By night, by day, a-field, at hame,

The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame

And ay I muse and sing thy name, —

I only live to love thee.

Tho' I were doom'd to wander on

Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
'Till my last Aveary sand was run,
'Till then — and then I love thee !

* A high hill near the source of the river Nith.

IF WINE AND MUSIC HAVE THE POW'R.

WRITTEN

Br PRIOR.

THE SAME AIR.

Xp wine and music have the pow'r But she to-morrow will return:

To ease the sickness of the soul, Venus, be thou to-morrow great

Let Phosbus ev'ry string explore, Thy myrtles strew, thy odours burn,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl. And meet thy favourite nymph in state.
Let them their friendly aid employ Kind goddess ! to no other pow'rs
To make my Chloe's absence light Let us to-morrow's blessings own :

And seek for pleasure, to destroy The darling loves shall guide the hours.
The sorrows of this live-long night. And all the day be thine alone.
 . » 1

29

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 — I — .

30

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 ; ; —

30

WHEN MERRY HEARTS WERE GAY.

Br H. MJCNEILL y

AS ALTERED AND CORRECTED BY HIM FOR THIS WORK.

AIR DONALD AND FLORA.

W hen merry hearts were gay,

Careless of aught but play,
4
Never, ah wretched
(Sigh'd the sad messenger)
fair !'

Poor Flora slipt away, 4

Never shall Donald mair
Sad'ning to Mora 4
Meet his lov'd Flora !

Loose flow'd her yellow hair, * Cold as yon mountain snow,

Quick heav'd her bosom bare, ' Donald, thy love, lies low,

As thus to the troubled air,

4
He sent me to soothe thy woe,

She vented her sorrow. * Weeping in Mora.

" Loud howls the stormy west, 4

Well fought our gallant slain,
44
Cold, cold, is winter's blast * On Saratoga s plain :

44
Haste then, O Donald, haste,
4
Thrice fled the hostile train

" Haste to thy Flora !

4
From British glory.
" Twice twelve long months are o'er, * But, ah ! tho' our foes did flee,
44 4
Since on a foreign shore Sad was each victory :

*4
You promis'd to fight no more, 4
Youth, Love, and Loyalty,
f
44
But meet me in Mora. Fell far from Mora !

4
Where now is Donald dear ?' * Here, take this love -wrought plaid,
44
Maids cry with taunting sneer ;
' (Donald expiring said)
44 4
Say, Is he still sincere Give it to yon dear Maid,
44
To his lov'd Flora ?
4
Drooping in Mora.
" Parents upbraid my moan ;
4
Tell her, Oh Allan ! tell,

" Each heart is turn'd to stone, - 4

Donald thus bravely fell,
" Ah Flora, thou'rt now alone
!
4
And that in his last farewel
44
Friendless, in Mora !
4
He thought on his Flora.'

" Come then, O come away ! Mute stood the trembling fair,

44
Donald, no longer stay ! Speechless with wild despair ;

44
Where can my rover stray Then, striking her bosom bare,
" From his lov'd Flora ? Sigh'd out — " Poor Flora !

44
Ah, sure he ne'er can be 44
Ah, Donald ! ah, well-a-day !"
44
False to his vows and me : Was all the fond heart could say :

" Oh heav'n 1 — is not yonder he At length the sound died away

" Bounding o'er Mora ! Feebly in Mora,

VOL. I. I. ..PART II.

 ; ;

31

HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.

g& ^ttfe j^l^ 4^-^^l :
^^r"l^WRITTEN :
i f'T^^lti? '%r.!k' t±<
FOR THIS WORK
l

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Br BURNS.

AIR CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.

How lang and dreary is the night, When I think on the lightsome days
When I am frae my dearie ; I spent wi' thee my dearie

I restless lie frae e'en to morn, And now what seas between us roar,

Tho' I were ne'er sae weary. How can I be but eerie. For oh, &c.
For oh, her lanely nights are lang
How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
And oh, her dreams are eerie ;
The joyless day how dreary :
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
It was na sae ye glinted by
That's absent frae her dearie !

When I was wi' my dearie. For oh, &c.

YE DEAR DELIGHTS OF LOVE, ADIEU.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br PETER PINDAR.

THE SAME AIR.

Ye dear delights of Love, adieu ; Now lost in solitude I sigh,

From me, ah, fled for ever ! And swell with tears the fountain ;

Ah how could fate our bliss pursue,

! Now seek the scenes of former joy,
And souls so constant sever ? The grove, the vale, the mountain.
While Love his precious gifts did pour, Since Sandy's gone, no wish is mine
We ask'd not Fortune's treasure ! To see another morrow ;

The flight of every panting hour For what is life f if doom'd to pine

Was wing'd by Hope and Pleasure. One lengthen'd sigh of sorrow !

t*. H..I1.. il. i

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* The above Sym* and Accomp^ composed by Havdn 8< first rtub*) in 1803
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eet fa's the eve on Craigieburn And

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1

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sor _ ._ ] row I see the flow'rsandspreadingtrees I hear the wild birds sing _ _ ing\ But

J_p_. p_- U-L-l r_y_L

—— Ail M ^^^f 11 A

Vl—SfjU-
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what a _ wea_ ry wight canpIeaseAnd care his bosom wring. _ ing.

The above SymS and Accompf composed By Havdn

. , 8t first pub*? in 1803,
 SWEET FA'S THE EVE ON CRAIGIEBURN.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR CRAIGIEBURN WOOD.

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn, Fain, fain, would I my griefs imparl:,

And blythe awakes the morrow, Yet dare na for your anger ;

But a' the pride of Spring's return But secret love will break my heart,

Can yield me nought but sorrow. If I conceal it langer.

I see the flow'rs and spreading trees, If thou refuse to pity me,
I hear the wild birds singing ; If thou shalt love another,

But what a weary wight can please, When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
And care his bosom wringing ! Around my grave they'll wither.

COULD AUGHT OF SONG DECLARE MY PAIN,

WRITTEN

Br Dr BEATTIE.

THE AME AIR.

O o u l d aught of song declare my pain, Then, Delia, let the sudden sigh,
Could artful numbers move thee ;
The heartfelt pang discover ;

The muse should tell in mournful strain, And in the keen, but tender eye,
O, Delia, how I love thee. O read th' imploring lover.
They who but feign a wounded heart, For well I know thy gentle mind
May teach the lyre to languish ; Disdains art's gay disguising ; —
But what avails the pride of art, Beyond what fancy e'er refin'd,

When pines the soul in anguish ? The voice of Nature prizing.

 33

SAW YE BONIE LESLEY,

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR THE COLLIER'S BONIE LASSIE.

saw ye bonie Lesley, Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,

As she gaed o'er the border ?* Thy subjects we before thee :

She's gane, like Alexander, Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

To spread her conquests farther. The hearts of men adore thee.
To see her, is to love her, The De'il he cou'dna skaith thee,
And love but her for ever ; Or aught that wad belang thee ;

For Nature made her what she is^ He'd look into thy bonie face,

And ne'er made sic anither I And say, " I canna wrang thee.'

The powers aboon will tent thee,

Misfortune sha' na steer thee ;

Tho'u'rt like themsels sae lovely,

That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie !

That we may brag we hae a lass,

There's nane again sae bonie.

* That part of Scotland bordering on England.

DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE.

THE SAME AIR.

KJ eluded swain, the pleasure Heav'ns ! art thou not ashamed

The fickle fair can give thee, To doat upon a feature ?

Is but a fairy treasure, If, man, thou would,' st be named,

Thy hopes will soon deceive thee. Despise the silly creature.

The billows on the ocean, Go find an honest fellow :

The breezes idly roaming, Good claret set before thee :

The clouds uncertain motion, Hold on till thou art mellow,

They are but types of woman ! And then to bed in glory.

 — — — — 1

33

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 ! ;

34

ADIEU YE STREAMS THAT SMOOTHLY GLIDE.

WRITTEN

Br Miss HOME,—now Mrs HUNTER,

AIR ADIEU YE STREAMS.

.A. D i e u ye streams that smoothly glide

Thro' mazy windings o'er the plain ;

I'll in some lonely cave reside,

And ever mourn my faithful swain.

Flower of the forest was my love,

Soft as the sighing summer's gale,

Gentle and constant as the dove,

Blooming as roses in the vale.

Alas I by Tweed my love did stray,

For me he search'd the banks around

But ah ! the sad and fatal day,

My love, the pride of swains was drown'd !

Now droops the willow o'er the stream,

Pale stalks his ghost in yonder grove.
Dire fancy paints him in my dream,—
Awake, I mourn my hopeless love

VOL. I... PART II. K.

 ; ! — ;; —

35

MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.

THE TWO LAST STANZAS WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br H. MJCNEILL.

AIR MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.

M y Love she's but a Lassie yet, The deil 's got in our lasses now
My love she's but a lassie yet The deil 's got in our lasses now
We'll let her stand a year or twa, When ane wad trow they scarce ken what,
She'll no be half sae saucy yet. Gude faith !
v
they make us asses now.
I rue the day I sought her, O, She was sae sour and dorty, O,
I rue the day I sought her, O ; She was sae sour and dorty, O,
Wha gets her needs na say he's woo'd, Whane'er I spake, she turn'd her back,
But he may say he's bought her, O. And sneer'd « Ye're mair than forty, O.

Sae slee she look'd and pawky too !

Sae slee she look'd and pawky too I

Tho' crouse a-field I gaed to woo,

I'm hame come back a gawky now !

I rue the day I sought her, O ;

I rue the day I sought her, O ;

Wha gets her needs na say he's woo'd,

But he may swear he's bought her, O.

YE LITTLE LOVES THAT ROUND HER WAIT.

THE SAME AIR.

Y e little Loves that round her wait

To bring me tidings of my fate,

As Celia on her pillow lies,

Ah ! gently whisper, —Strephon dies

If this will not her pity move,

And the proud Fair disdains to love,
Then smile and say, 'tis all a lie,
And haughty Strephon scorns to die.
 — —— — J M
36
/

4st

i O love will venture in where it

i v
i =3=

35

1>
^^^^^^
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dare na weel be seen O love will venture in where wisdom ance has been But

is*-!:

-•— — ». J1L
vill do^ Ynyon r iver rove an iang the wood sae green And to pu 1
posie to my

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ain dear May

^70 m
* 7//4' ,»iv//.X.- Ai-covip.
v imp lined as above fa'JJTJ\~ifioi,
.<
 : : ; :

O LOVE WILL VENTURE IK

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR THE POSIE.

0) love will venture in, where it dare na weel be seen s

O Love will venture in, where wisdom ance has been :

But I will down yon river rove amang the wood sae green,

And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May.

The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,

And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phosbus peeps in view.

For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonie mou'
The hyacinth for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue-,

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,

And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there :

The daisy for simplicity and unaffected air,

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey,

Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day

But the songster's nest within the bush I winna take away,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The woodbine I will pu', when the ev'ning star is near,

And the diamond drops o' dew shall be her een sae clear
The violet for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' love,

And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above,
That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove,
And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.
 ;

NAE GENTLE DAMES, THO' E'ER SAE FAIR,

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR THE DEUKS D G O'ER MY DADDY.

N ae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair, Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
Shall ever be my muse's care : I know her heart will never change,
Their titles a' are empty show For her bosom burns with honour's glow
Gie me my Highland Lassie, O. My faithful Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen sae bushy, O, Within the glen, &c.
Aboon the plain sae rashy, O,

I setme down wi' right good will, For her I'll dare the billows' roar,

To sing my Highland Lassie, O. For her I'll trace a distant shore,

That Indian wealth may lustre throw

0 were yon hills and vallies mine, Around my Highland Lassie, O.
Yon palace, and yon gardens fine, Within the glen, &c.

The world then the love should know

1 bear my Highland Lassie, O.
She has my heart, she has my hand,

Within the glen, &c. By sacred truth and honour's band !

'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,

But fickle Fortune frowns on me, I'm thine my Highland Lassie, O.
And I maun cross the raging sea ; Farewel, the glen sae bushy, O,

But while my crimson currents flow, Farewel, the plain sae rashy, O !

I'll love my Highland Lassie, O. To other lands I now must go

Within the glen, &c. To sing my Highland Lassie, O.
 r — | 1

31

X'ivace
—
I

m ^

^'U afiiir n Li^uijiifiauijiLkUji'

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gentle dames tho 1 1

e er fae fair Shall e_ vei be my Mules carelhei r titles i are

v t i i. i
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empty fhow Gie me my highland laftle

ailie O.Wi-thin
.Wi-thin the glen fae
lae bufhy O, Aboon iheplainfae
theplain fae

9 9 v

r —
5S 1
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ra^ _lhy O, I l et me down wi' right goodwill To fin g* my highland laf_fie O.

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38
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O mirk mirk is this mid- night hour And loud the tem__pefts roar: A

C
WJte _ fu'
W— i-
vand'rer feeks thy tower Lord
——L>^P
Cire-gx>ry
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from her fa _ - therms ha1 And a' for lov-nig* thee. At leaft fome pi _ _ ty

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 ; ! ;

38

O MIRK, MIRK, IS THIS MIDNIGHT HOUR,

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS,

AIR LORD GREGORY.

mirk, mirk, is this midnight hour, Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove,
And loud the tempests roar ;
By bonie Irvine- side,

A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower, Where first I own'd that virgin-love

Lord Gregory ope thy door ! I lang, lang had denied.

An exile frae her father's ha', How aften didst thou pledge and vow,

And a' for loving thee ;

Thou would'st for ay be mine ;

At least some pity on me shaw, And my fond heart itsel' sae true,
If love it mayna be I
It ne'er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,

And flinty is thy breast
Thou dart of Heav'n that flashest by
O wilt thou give me rest
Ye mustering thunders from above
Your willing victim see !

But spare and pardon my false Love,

His wrongs to Heav'n and me !

AH OPE, LORD GREGORY, THY DOOR*

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br PETER PINDAR.

THE SAME AIR.

Ah ope, Lord Gregory, thy door, Alas ! thou hear'st a pilgrim mourn,
'
A midnight wanderer sighs ! That once was priz'd by thee :

Hard rush the rains, the tempests roar, Think of the ring by yonder burn

And lightnings cleave the skies ! Thou gav'st to love and me.

Who comes with woe ih this drear night, But shou'dst thou not poor Marian know,
A pilgrim of the gloom ? I'll turn my feet and part
If she whose love did once delight, And think the storms that round me blow,
My cot shall yield her room. Far kinder than thy heart.

* It is lut doing justice to the Author of the latter Song to mention, that it is the Original. Mr Burns saw
it, liked it, and immediately wrote the other on the same subject,

VOL. I.. . . PART II. X.,

 ;

39

WHERE CART RINS ROWING TO THE

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR— — THE AULD WIFE AYONT THE FIRE.

W here Cart rins rowing to the sea,

By mony a flow'r and spreading tree,

There lives a lad, the lad for me,

He is a gallant sailor.
Oh I had wooers eight or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine ;

And I was fear'd my heart wou'd tine,

And I gied it to the sailor.

My daddie sign'd my tocher band,

To gi'e the lad that has the land,
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And gi'e it to the sailor.

While birds rejoice in leafy bowers

While bees delight in opening flowers ;

While corn grows green in summer showers,

I love my gallant sailor !
 — —

WW
Vivace-

K
s=5 V
"W here Cart rins rowing* to the sea By mony
» 1
•
a f lowV and spreadingtreeTherelives a
1 lad the

r-* gz 1 * •
mm
* Hi <m -7—.= i

f=
far
1 . •
lad for me He is a gal_.lant Sai_ _ lor O I had wooers eight or nine They

m imp a n mm \

gied me
w
rings andi ihbonsfine And
r
I

I
was feard mylleart wou'dtine And I gied

n—n-i
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Sailoi

C
r
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J34
pi i^J =1—o=M
-j* A

V
* The above Sym. and Accompi composed, by Haydn first pub. in 1803.
 —

40

b
ft
1*--
—a
•T

. f

r i r

She's fair and fans e that causes my fmart, I lo"edhermeikle and

langv /r
She^s
Hi
broken her vow fhe^ broken iny he-art And I
liiiplllllii
may e'en g*ae hang* A
±j- Kn

coof came
tlllC i|n
kill wi' routh o'g-earAnd I hae tint my f^eareft dcar,But woman is but

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warld's gear Sae ] et thebonie lafs grange.

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 —

40

SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE THAT CAUSES MY SMART,

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR- SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE.

She's fair and fause that causes my smart, Whae'er ye be that Woman love,

I lo'ed her meikle and lang ; To this be never blind ;

She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart. Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove,
And I may e'en gae hang. A woman has't by kind.
A coof came in wi' rovvth o' gear, O woman, lovely woman fair,

And I hae tint my dearest dear ;

An angel form's faun to thy share !

But Woman is but warid's gear, 'Twou'd been o'er meikle to've gi'en thee mair,
Sae let the bonie lass gang. I mean an angel mind.

WHY WILL FLORELLA, WHEN I GAZE.

THE SAME AIR.

hy will Florella, when I gaze, But O how! faint is ev'ry joy,

My ravish'd eyes reprove, Where nature has no part ?

And chide them from the only face New beauties may my eyes employ,

I can behold with love ? But you engage my heart.

To shun your scorn, and ease my care, So restless exiles, as they roam,
I seek a nymph more kind : Meet soothing pity everywhere ;

And as I range from fair to fair, Yet languish for their native home,
Still gentler usage find. Though death attends them there.
 : ;

41

OH! I HAE LOST MY SILKEN SNOOD.

AIR THE SILKEN SNOOD.

h ! I hae lost my silken snood, He prais'd my een sae bonny blue,

That my hair sae yellow:
tied Sae lily-white my skin, O ;

I've gi'en my heart to the lad I loo'd And syne he pried my bonny mou',

He was a gallant fellow. And swore it was nae sin, O ! And twine, &c.
And twine it weel, my bonie dow,
But he has left the lass he loo'd,
And twine it weel, the plaiden 5
His ain true love forsaken,
The lassie lost her silken snood,
Which gars me sair to greet the snood
In pu'ing of the bracken.
I lost amang the bracken. And twine, &c.

GONE IS MY HEART, FOR EVER GONE.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br PETER PINDAR.

THE SAME AIR.

CjTone is my heart, for ever gone, Bring back that form which once was mine,
And thou the cause, believe me : The fount of ev 'ry pleasure ;

Yes, thou the mischief, Jane, hast done, Where beauty with a skill divine
And gloriest to deceive me. Has lavish'd all her treasure.
O cheer once more our drooping scenes, Thine art too fatal have I found,
And chace the cloud of sorrow Too deeply, nymph, I feel it

O bring those eyes where summer reigns, Sure if thine eyes have giv'n a wound,

And cheek, the rose would borrow. 'Tis fair thy lips should heal it.
 c ——

41
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Ohi I hae lolt

•It my filkenfiicodthattiedmyhair
111 ken fhccdihat tied my hair fae ycl—
veL-lows 1 Ye gien my heart to th
low: IVegienmj the lad I looTdHe
MTa \ awn -gig:

ryrt
JJTV,

was a gallant fel_low. Andtwjne weel, my "bonny

bonny dow And twinerit weel the
Andtovine plai_ den The
itwjeel,my
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 —
I

42
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wjpj
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Turn a-g-ain thou fair E li_za Aekindhlinkhefore we part Rue on thy delp?iring-

lover Canft thouhreak his faithfu1 heart'. Turn ag*ain thoufair E_li_za; If to love thjheartde,

_ _ aies For pity hide the cruel fentence UndeT friendihip'skinddiigtiife.

m
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 — ; !

42

TURN AGAIN, THOU FAIR ELIZA.

WRITTEN
Br BURNS.
AIR- THE EONNY BRUCKET LASSIE.
URN again, thou fair Eliza, While the life beats in my bosom,,
Ae kind blink before we part Thou shalt mix in ilka throe ;

Rue on thy despairing lover, Turn again, thou lovely maiden,

Canst thou break his faithful heart ? Ae sweet smile on me bestow.

Turn again thou fair Eliza ;

Not the bee upon the blossom,

If to love thy heart denies,
In the pride of sunny noon ;
For pity, hide the cruel sentence
Not the little sporting fairy,
Under friendship's kind disguise.
All beneath the summer moon ;

Thee, dear maid, have I offended 1 Not the Poet, in the moment
The offence is loving thee : Fancy lightens in his e'e,

Canst thou wreck his peace for ever, Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,

Wha for thine would gladly die ! That thy presence gi'es to me.

TELL ME, TELL ME, CHARMING CREATURE.

THE SAME AIR.
Tell me, tell me, charming creature, Are such giddy ways beseeming ?

Will you never ease my pain ? Will my dear be fickle still ?

Must I die for ev'ry feature ? Conquest is the joy of women,

Must I always love in vain ? Let their slaves be what they will.

The desire of admiration

Your neglect with torment fills me,
Is the pleasure you pursue ;
And my desperate thoughts increase ;
Pray thee, try a lasting passion,
Pray consider, if you kill me,
Such a love as mine for you.
You will have a lover less.

Tears and sighing could not move you, If your wand'ring heart is beating
For a lover ought to dare ;
For new lovers, let it be ;

When I plainly told I lov'd you, But when you have done coquetting,
Then you said I went too far. Name a day, and fix on me.

THE REPLY.
In vain, fond youth, thy tears give o'er ; Suppress those sighs, and weep no more ;

What more, alas, can Flavia do ? Should heaven and earth with thee combine.
Thy truth I own, thy fate deplore ; 'Twere all in vain ; since any pow'r,

All are not happy that are true. To crown thy love, must alter mine.

But if revenge can ease thy pain,

I'll sooothe the ills I cannot cure :

Tell that I drag a hopeless chain,

And all that I inflict, endure

VOL. I. ..PART II. M.

 ; ; ; ; ;

43

YE BANKS AND BRAES OF BONNY DOON.

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR THE CALEDONIAN HUNT'S DELIGHT.

COMPOSED

By Mr James Miller, Edinburgh.

Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, Oft have I rov'd by bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ? To see the rose and woodbine twine ;

How can ye chant, ye little birds, And ilka bird sang o' its love,
And I sae weary fu' of care ? And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Thoul't break my heart, thou warbling bird, Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
That wantons through the flowery thorn Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree
Thou mind'st me of departed joys, And my fause lover staw my rose,

Departed, never to return ! But ah ! he left the thorn wi' me.

UNLESS WITH MY AMANDA BLEST.

WRITTEN

Br THOMSON.

THE SAME AIR.

U nless with my Amanda blest,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower

Unless to deck her sweeter breast,
In vain I rear the breathing flower.
Awaken'd by the genial year,

In vain the birds around me sing

In vain the fresh'ning fields appear

Without my Love, there is no spring.
 — |

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Ye banks andbraes of toniel^on^owcanyebloomfaefrefti andfai. ttaw

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>varbling-biidlhat wantorafco'theflow^ingilionuhoiin indftme of departed jo\s,departed neve!

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44

AND YE SHALL WALK IN SILK ATTIRE.

AIR THE SILLER CROWN.

And ye shall walk in silk attire, The mind whose every wish is pure,

And siller hae to spare, Far dearer is to me,

Gin ye'U consent to be his bride, And ere I'm forc'd to break my faith,

Nor think o' Donald mair. I'll lay me down and die :

Oh ! wha wad buy a silken gown., For I hae pledg'd my virgin troth,

Wi' a poor broken heart ? Brave Donald's fate to share

Or what's tome a siller crown, And he has gi'en to me his heart,

Gin frae my love I part. Wi' a' its virtues rare'

His gentle manners won my heart,.

He, gratefu', took the gift

Cou'd I but think to seek it back,

It wou'd be war' than theft.

For langest life can ne'er repay

The love he bears to me ;

And ere I'm forc'd to break my troth,

I'll lay me down and die.

TOO PLAIN, DEAR YOUTH, THESE TELL-TALE EYES,

WRITTEN

Br SOAME JENYNS.

THE SAME AIR.

Too plain, dear youth, these tell-taile eyes Say, wou'd you use that very pow'r,
My heart your own declare ; You from her fondness claim,
But, for Heaven's sake, let it suffice, To ruin, in one fatal hour,
You reign triumphant there. A life of spotless fame ?

Forbear your utmost pow'r to try,

Resolve not, then, to do an ill,
Nor farther urge your sway :

Because perhaps you may ;

Press not for what I must deny,
But rather use your utmost skill
For fear I should obey.
To save me, than betray.
Could all your arts successful prove, Be you yourself my virtue's guard ;

Wou'd you a maid undo ? Defend, and not pursue

Whose greatest failing is her love, Since 'tis a task for me too hard,
And that her love for you. To combat love and you.
 : ! ;

45

FATE GAVE THE WORD, THE ARROW SPED.

A MOTHER S LAMENTATION FOR THE DEATH OP HER SON.

Br BURNS.

AIR GIL MORRIS.

This appears to the Editor a far letter Air for singing, and much more stated to these admirable Verses, than Fin-
layston House, the Tune which the Poet had in view for them ; and therefore the one is here substituted for
the other.

]Pa t e gave the word, the arrow sped. The mother linnet in the brake

And pierc'd my darling's heart Bewails her ravish'd young ;

And with him all the joys are fled, So I, for my lost darling's sake,

Life can to me impart. Lament the live-day long.

And with him, &c. So I, &c.

By cruel hands the sapling drops, Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,
In dust dishonour'd laid ; Now, fond, I bare my breast
So fell the pride of all my hopes, O, do thou kindly lay me low

My age's future shade. With him I love, at rest

So fell, &c. O, do thou, &c.

 1 • — —# -

45

if*
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 A— —

46
y^'ae- /?ea /'/€(/ wad Ac
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True hearted was he the sad swain of the Yarrow And fa ir are
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th emaids on the banks of the Ayr, But

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equal young Jessie seek Scotland
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equal young Jessie you seek it in vain Grace,

*^ beauty and e_legance fetter her Lover And maiden_ly mo _ desty fix_es the chain.

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 ; ; !; ;

46

TRUE HEARTED WAS HE THE SAD SWAIN.

\

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR—BON DUNDEE.
T rue hearted was he the sad swain of the Yarrow, Oh fresh is
! the rose in the gay dewy morning,
And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr; And sweet is the lily at evening close
But by the sweet side of the Nith's winding river, But in the fair presence of lovely young Jessie^
Are lovers as faithful , and maidens as fair. Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.

To equal young Jessie, seek Scotland all over Love sits in her smile, a wizzard ensnaring ;

To equal young Jesste, you seek it in vain; Enthron'd in her eyes he delivers his law ;

Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover, And still to her charms she alone is a stranger 1

And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. Her modest demeanor 's the jewel of a
5
.

SAW YE MY WEE THING.

WRITTEN

Br H. MAC NEIL.

ce
In the former Edition, the Editor joined the following Song to the Air, Cauld frosty Morning lut now, thinking

that Air rather meagre, he has expunged it, to make room for one introduced on the next page, and has transferred the

Wee Thing here, as the Air of Bonny Dundee suits it perfectly.

Saw ye my wee thing ? saw ye mine ain thing ?

ff
It was na my wee thing ! it was na mine ain thing !

' Saw ye my true love down on yon lea !

" ft was na my true love ye met by the tree
' Cross'd she the meadow, yestreen at the gloaming ? Proud is her leal heart, modest her nature;
' Sought she the burnie, whar flow'rs the haw-tree ? " She never loo'd ony, till ance she loo'd me.
<e
' Her hair it is lint-white ; her skin it is milk-white ? Her name it is Mary, she 's frae Castle Cary,
•'
Dark is the blue o' her saft-rolling e'e ! " Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee !

<e Fair as your face

c
Red, red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses ! is, were 't fifty times fairer,

c
Whar could my wee thing wander frae me?" " Young bragger ! she ne'er would gi'e kisses to thee \
"

I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing, c

It was then your Mary, she 's frae Castle Cary
Nor saw I your true love down by yon lea ;
' It was then your true love I met by the tree !

f
But I met my bonny thing, late in the gloaming, Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature,
Down by the burnie, whar flow'rs the haw-tree. * Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to me !'

Her hair it was lint-white, her skin it was milk-white, Sair gloom'd his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew,
Dark was the blue o' her saft-rolling e'e ! Wild flash'd the fire frae his red-rolling e'e
ce
Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses ! Ye's rue sair this morning, your boasts and your scorning
me (e
Defend, ye fause traitor; fu' loudly ye
"
Sweet were the kisses that she ga'e to ! lie \

i
Awa' wi' beguiling,' cried the youth, smiling:

Aff went the bonnet, —the lint-white locks flee—

The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing,
Fair stood the lov'd maid wi' the dark-rolling e'e !

ee
Is it my wee thing is it ? mine ain thing ?

" Is it my true love here that I see ?"

' Oh Jamie ! forgi'e me, your heart 's constant to me :

!'
* I'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee

VOL. I . .PART II.

 ; ; ; — ;; ,;

47

DOES HAUGHTY GAUL INVASION THREAT.

WRITTEN IN 1795,

Br BURNS.

AlR. — RISE UP AND BAR THE DOOR.

Introduced in place of the 47th Song of the former Edition, for the reason given in the Note on the preceding page.

The Editor trusts he shall he excused for taking the liberty of altering some of the Scottish words in the following
admirable Song, in order it may at the present crisis be perfectly understood on both sides of the Tweed. In-

deed the alterations are extremely slight, but it may be satisfactory to some readers to know, that the two chief
ones are foreign instead of unco, and sword substituted for rung.

JLJ'oes haughty Gaul invasion threat ? The kettle of the Kirk and State,
Then let the loons beware, sir, Perhaps a clout may fail in 't

There 's wooden walls upon our seas, But de'il a foreign tinker loon

And Volunteers on shore, sir- Shall ever drive a nail in 't.

The Nith shall run to Corsincon *, Our fathers blood the kettle bought,

And Criffel f sink in Solway, And who wou'd dare to spoil it ?

Ere we permit a foreign foe By heav'n, the sacrilegious dog

On British ground to rally. Shall fuel be to boil it !

O let us not like snarling curs, The wretch that wou'd a tyrant own,
In wrangling be divided, And the wretch, his true-born brother,
"Till slap come in a foreign loon, Who'd set the mob above the throne,
And wi' his sword decide it. May they be damn'd together.
Be Britain still to Britain true, Who will not sing, " God save the King,"
Among ourselves united ; Shall hang as high 's the steeple

For never but by British hands But while we sing, " God save the King \'i

Must British wrongs be righted. We'll ne'er forget the people.

* A high Hill at the source of the river Nith. t A Mountain at the mouth of the same river, on the Solway Firth

THE OLD SONG TO THE SAME ATR.

In the following Song the interjection 0 is commonly put to the end of the second and fourth lines of each verse by the
Singer, as the Air requires the addition of a monosyllable to those lines.

It was about the Martimas time; " Now, Whether is this a rich man's house,
And a gude time it was than, " Or whether is 't a poor ?

When our gude-wife had puddings to make, But never a word wad ane o' them speak,
And she boil'd them in the pan* For barring of the door.

The wind it blew baith cauld and raw, Then first they ate the white puddings,
And it blew into the floor And syne they ate the black
Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, Tho' muckle thought the gudewife to hersel',

" Get up and bar the door." Yet ne'er a word she spake.
C(
My hand is in my hussy'f-skap, Then said the one unto the other,
" Gudeman, as ye may see; " Here, man, tak' ye my knife
" An' it should nae be barr'd this hunder year, " Do you tak' aff* the auld man's beard,,
" It's nae be barr'd for me." " And I'll kiss the gudewife."

They made a paction 'tween them twa, 6

But there 's nae water in the house,
They made it firm and sure, And what shall we do than ?'
c

That the first of them that spake a word, " What ails you at the pudding-bree,
Shou'd rise and bar the door. " That boils into the pan ?"

Then by there came twa gentlemen, O up then started our gudeman,

At twelve o'clock at night, An angry man was he
And they could see nor house nor ha', " Will ye kiss my wife before my een,

Nor coal nor candle light. " And scald me wi' pudding-bree?"

O up then started our gudewife,

Gied three skips on the floor

" Gudeman you have spak the first word,

" Get up and bar the door !"
 h

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The Nith shall run to Cor _ sincon And Criffel sink in Sol way

The above Sym^8t Accomp. composed by Haydn,& first pub. in 1803.

 — ^— — — .

48
/ // n < v/// 0 /?/// i vrmh /len -
fr> // .

. lik\fretto

Dune an Gr ay c ame

3
here to woo, Ha ha the wooing* o^t On newyear-s night when vve were fou,

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 ;; : ; —

48

DUNCAN GRAY CAME HERE TO WOO,

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR- —DUNCAN GRAY.

Ouncan Gray came here to woo, Time and chance are but a tide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't Ha, ha, the wooing o't

On new-year's night, when we were fou. Slighted love is sair to bide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Maggie coost her head fu' heigh, Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, For a haughty hizzie die ?

Gart poor Duncan -

stand abeigh ; She may gae to — Prance for me !

Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd, How it comes, let Doctors tell,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig*, Meg grew sick, — as he grew heal,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan sigh'd, baith out and in, Something in her bosom wrings,
Grat his een baith bleer't and blin*, For relief a sigh she brings ;

Spake o' louping o'er a linn, And oh ! her een they spake sic things
Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan was a lad o' grace,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Maggie's was a piteous case,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan cou'dna be her death,

Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath :

Noiv they're crouse and canty baith !

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

* A great insulated Rock to the south of the Island of Arran,

LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN.

WRITTEN for this work

Br BURNS.

THE SAME AIR.

Xjet not woman e'er complain Mark the winds, and mark the skies ;

Of inconstancy in love ; Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow ;

Let not woman e'er complain, Sun and moon but set to rise ;

Fickle man is apt to rove Round and round the seasons go :

Look abroad through Nature's range^ Why then ask of silly Man,
Nature's mighty law is change ; To oppose great Nature's plan ?

Ladies, would it not be strange We'll be constant while we can

Man should then a monster prove ? You can be no more, you know..
 ;

^9

O POORTITH CATJLD AND RESTLESS LOVE.

WRITTEN FOR THIS WORK

Br BURNS.

AIR I HAD A HORSE, AND I HAD NAE MAIR.

poortith cauld, and restless love, Her een sae bonny blue betray
Ye wreck my peace between ye ; How she repays my passion ;

Yet poortith a' I could forgive, But prudence is her o'erword ay,
An' 'twere na for my Jeante. She talks of rank and fashion. Owhy, &c.
O why should Fate sic pleasure have.
O wha can prudence think upon,
Life's dearest bands untwining ?
And sic a lassie by him ;
Or why sae sweet a flower as love,
O wha can prudence think upon,
Depend on Fortune's shining ?
And sae in love as I am ? O why, &c.
This warld's wealth when I think on,
How blest the humble cotter's fate,
Its pride, and a' the lave o't
He wooes his simple dearie ;
Fie, fie on silly coward man,
The silly bogles, Wealth and State,
That he should be the slave o't ! 0 why, &c.
Can never make them eerie. 0 why, &c.
 0 s

49

QjlddUtiflO

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poortith cauld and reftlefs love

.J' l .m.]TT^
Ve wreckmy peace betweenye:
0—
Yet poortith a' I

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my O why ftiouM fate

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couldforgive, Aii twere na for Jeanie. lie pie afure have, LifeV

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2£K

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fprightly, aP^-pear, As au_ tumn to winter re _ _ figns the pale year.

BE Iff:
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 : !

50

THE LAZY MIST HANGS, £sV.

WRITTEN

Br BURNS.

AIR HERE'S A HEALTH TO MY TRUE LOVE.

T'he lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,

Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill

How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear,

As autumn to winter resigns the pale year.

The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,

And all the gay foppery of summer is flown ;

Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,

How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues.
How long I have liv'd, —but how much liv'd in vain ;

How little of life's scanty span may remain ;

What aspects old Time in his progress has worn ;

What ties cruel Fate in my bosom has torn.

How foolish, or worse, 'till our summit is gain'd !

And downward, howweaken'd howdarken'd, howpain'd

Life is not worth having with all it can give,
For something beyond it poor man sure must live.

vol. i. . .PART II. o.

PRINTED BY J. MOIR, ROYAL BANK CLOSE,

FOR THE PROPRIETOR, G. THOMSON,

YORK PLACE,

1803.