SWEET FA'S THE EVE.

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The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
They mind me o' Nannie-my Nannie's awa.

Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,

The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou, mellow mavis, that hails the night-fa',
Give over for pity-my Nannie's awa.

Come, autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
And sooth me wi' tidings o' nature's decay;
The dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw,
Alane can delight me-now Nannie's awa.

SWEET FA'S THE EVE.

TUNE-Craigie-burn-wood. ̧

SWEET fa's the eve on Craigie-burn,
And blithe awakes the morrow,
But a' the pride o' spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

'I see the flowers and spreading trees,
Ί
I hear the wild birds singing;

But what a weary wight can please,
And care his bosom wringing?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet darena for your anger;

But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

VOL. II.

H

82

O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET? If thou refuse to pity me,

If thou shalt love anither,

When yon green leaves fa' frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.

O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET?
TUNE-Let me in this ae Night.

O LASSIE, art thou sleeping yet?
Or art thou wakin, I would wit?
For love has bound me hand and foot,
And I would fain be in, jo.

CHORUS.

O, let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
For pity's sake this ae night,
O, rise and let me in, jo.

Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet,
Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet;

Tak pity on my weary feet,

And shield me frae the rain, jo.

O, let me in, &c.

The bitter blast that round me blaws,
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
Of a' my grief and pain, jo.

O, let me in, &c.

HER ANSWER.

To the same Tune.

O, TELLNA me o' wind and rain,
Upbraidna me wi' cauld disdain!
Gae back the gait ye cam again,
I winna let you in, jo.

CHORUS.

I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
And ance for a' this ae night,
I winna let you in, jo.

The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,
That round the pathless wand'rer pours,
Is nocht to what poor she endures,
That's trusted faithless man, jo.
I tell you now, &c.

The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,
Now trodden like the vilest weed;

Let simple maid the lesson read,
The weird may be her ain, jo.
I tell you now, &c.

The bird that charm'd his summer-day,
Is now the cruel fowler's prey;
Let witless, trusting woman say
How aft her fate's the same, jo.
I tell you now, &c.

ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LARK.

TUNE-Where'll Bonnie Ann lie.

O, STAY, 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 wad touch her heart,
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.

Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' wae could wauken.
Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief, and dark despair ;
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
my poor heart is broken!

Or

GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE.

TUNE-Humours of Glen.

THEIR groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon, [fume;

Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perFar dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom.

'TWASNA HER BONNIE blue ee.

85

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly

unseen:

For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean. Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys, And cauld, Caledonia's blast on the wave; Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, [slave! What are they? The haunt of the tyrant and The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,

The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain; He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean.

"TWASNA HER BONNIE BLUE EE. TUNE-Laddie, lie near me.

"TWASNA her bonnie blue ee was my ruin;
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing;
"Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o'
kindness.

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.
Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest!
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter,
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.