Such was my Chloris' bonnie face,
When first her bonnie face I saw,
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

2 Like harmony her motion;
Her pretty ancle is a spy,
Betraying fair proportion,

Wad make a saint forget the sky.
Sae warming, sae charming,

Her faultless form, and gracefu' air;
Ilk feature-auld Nature

Declared that she could do nae mair:
Her's are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering beauty's sovereign law;
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

3 Let other's love the city,

And gaudy show at sunny noon;
Gie me the lonely valley,

The dewy eve, and rising moon

Fair beaming, and streaming,

Her silver light the boughs amang ;

While falling, recalling,

The amorous thrush concludes his sang:
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,

And say thou lo'es me best of a'.

TO DR MAXWELL,

ON MISS JESSY STAIG'S RECOVERY.

MAXWELL, if merit here you crave,
That merit I deny:

You save fair Jessy from the grave!
An angel could not die.

SAW YE MY PHELY?

(Quasi dicat Phillis.)

TUNE- When she cam ben she bobbit.

1 Он, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love, She winna come hame to her Willie.

2 What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her Willie.

3 Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willie.

K

HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.

TUNE- Cauld kail in Aberdeen.'

1 How lang and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie!

I restless lie, frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.

CHORUS.

For oh, her lanely nights are lang ;
And oh, her dreams are eerie ;
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie.

2 When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi' thee, my dearie;
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I be but eerie ?

3 How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
The joyless day how dreary!

It was nae sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi' my dearie !

LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN..

TUNE-Duncan Gray.'

1 LET not woman e'er complain

Of inconstancy in love;

Let not woman e'er complain

Fickle man is apt to rove:

Look abroad through Nature's range,
Nature's mighty law is change;
Ladies, would it not be strange,

Man should then a monster prove ?

2 Mark the winds, and mark the skies;
Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow:
Sun and moon but set to rise,
Round and round the seasons go.
Why then ask of silly man,
To oppose great Nature's plan?
We'll be constant while we can-

You can be no more, you know.

THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS.

TUNE- Deil tak the Wars.'

1 SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
Now through the leafy woods,

And by the reeking floods,

Wild Nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;

The lintwhite in his bower

Chants o'er the breathing flower;

The laverock to the sky

Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,

While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

2 Phœbus gilding the brow o' morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladd'ning and adorning ;
Such to me my lovely maid.
When absent frae my fair,

The murky shades o' care

With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky;
But when in beauty's light,

She meets my ravish'd sight,
When through my very heart
Her beaming glories dart-

'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.

THE WINTER OF LIFE.

TUNE- Gil Morice.'

1 BUT lately seen in gladsome green,
The woods rejoiced the day,

Through gentle showers the laughing flowers
In double pride were gay:

But now our joys are fled,

On winter blasts awa'!

Yet maiden May, in rich array,
Again shall bring them a'.

2 But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of age;

My trunk of eild, but buss or bield,
Sinks in Time's wintry rage.

Oh, age has weary days,

And nights o' sleepless pain!
Thou golden time o' youthfu' prime,
Why com'st thou not again!