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The gift, dear maid, which thou hast sent
To gladden me to-day,
When thou art far away.
How fancifully gay
Was she whose smiles once deign'd to bless My spirit in its loneliness.
The sunshine of thine open brow
For me is nearly o'er,
That we shall meet no more.
The treasured thoughts of yore,
Thy living presence, artless one,
Oh! bear it far from me;
Had I been fancy-free.
That I was loved by thee;
Farewell! and if for aye we part,
Nor Fashion make thy guileless heart
Yet, trust me, wheresoe'er I rove,
I'll love thee with a brother's love,
But grant me still, in woe or weal,
Such love as gentle sisters feel.
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie!—here's a hearty health to thee!
For thine eye so bright, thy form so light, and thy step so firm and free;
For all thine artless elegance, and all thy native grace,
For the music of thy mirthful voice, and the sunshine of thy face;
For thy guileless looks, and speech sincere, yet sweet as speech can be,—
Here's a health, my Scottish lassie!—here's a hearty health to thee.
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie !—though my
glow of youth is o'er, And I, as once I felt and dream'd, must feel and
dream no more; Though the world, with all its frosts and storms,
has chjll'd my soul at last, And genius with the foodful looks of youthful
friendship past; Tho' my path is dark and lonely now, o'er this
world's dreary sea,— Here's a health, my Scottish lassie ! here's a hearty
health to thee!
in. Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie !—tho' I feel
that not for me Is thine eye so bright, thy form so light, and thy
step so firm and free; Tho' thou with cold and careless looks wilt often
pass me by,
Unconscious of my swelling heart and of my wistful eye; Tho' thou wilt bless some happier love, nor care a
jot for me,— Here's a health, my Scottish lassie! here's a hearty
health to thee!
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie !—when I meet
thee in the throng Of merry youths and maidens dancing lightsomely
I'll dream away an hour or twain still gazing on
thy form, As it flashes thro' the baser crowd, like lightning
thro' a storm: And I perhaps shall touch thy hand, and share thy
looks of glee, And for once, my Scottish lassie! dance a giddy
dance with thee.
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie !—I shall think
of thee at even, When I see its first and fairest star come smiling
up thro' Heaven; I shall hear thy sweet and touching voice in every
wind that grieves, As it whirls from the abandon'd oak its wither'd
autumn leaves; In the gloom of the wild forest, in the stillness of
the sea, I shall think, my Scottish lassie—I shall often
think of thee.
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie !—in my sadjind
lonely hours The thought of thee comes o'er me like the breath
of distant flowers; Like the music that enchants mine ear, the sights
that bless mine eye, Lake the verdure of the meadow, like the azure of
Like the rainbow in the evening, like the blossom
on the tree, Is the thought, my Scottish lassie—is the lonely
thought of thee.
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie—tho' my muse must soon be dumb,
(For graver thoughts and duties, with my graver years are come)
Tho' my soul must break the bonds of earth and learn to soar on high,
And to look on this world's follies with a calm and sober eye,
Tho' the merry wine must cease to flow, the songbe mute for me,—
Still to thee, my Scottish lassie, still I'll drink a health to thee.
Here's to thee, my Scottish lassie !—here's a parting health to thee!
May thine be still a cloudless lot, tho' it be far from me:
May still thy laughing eye be bright, and open still thy brow,
Thy thoughts as pure, thy speech as free, thy heart as light as now!
And whatsoe'er may be my fate, my dearest toast shall be
Still a health, my Scottish lassie, still a hearty health to thee!