Like harmony her motion; Wad make a saint forget the sky. Her faultless form and graceful air; Ilk feature-auld Nature Declared that she could do na mair. Hers are the willing chains o' love, By conquering beauty's sovereign law; And aye my Chloris' dearest charm, She says she loes me best of a'. Let others 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 loes me best of a'! SIMMER'S A PLEASANT TIME. SIMMER's a pleasant time, Aye waukin O, Waukin still and wearie : For thinking on my dearie. When I sleep I dream, For thinking on my dearie, Lanely night comes on, A' the lave are sleeping; And bleer my een wi' greetin'. SLEEP'ST THOU, OR WAK'ST THOU? TUNE-Deil tak the Warɛ. SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest crea ture? Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud, which Nature Waters wi' the tears o' joy: Now thro' the leafy woods, Wild Nature's tenants, freely, gladly stray: Chants o'er the breathing flower, The lav'rock to the sky Ascends wi' sangs o' joy, While the sun and thou arise to bless the day. Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning, With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky; 'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy. SOMEBODY! TUNE-For the sake of Somebody, My heart is sair-I dare na tell- I could range the world around, Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, I wad do what wad I not! SONG OF DEATH. AIR-Oran an Diog. Scene-A field of battle.-Time of the day, evening. The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song: FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth and ye skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun; Farewell loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties Our race of existence is run! Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe! Go, frighten the coward and slave; Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know, No terrors hast thou to the brave! Thou strik'st the dull peasant-he sinks in the dark, Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name; Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark! He falls in the blaze of his fame! In the field of proud honour-our swords in our hands, Our king and our country to saveWhile victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, Oh, who would not die with the brave! STAY MY CHARMER. TUNE-An Gille dubh ciar dhubh. STAY, my charmer, can you leave me? Well you know how much you grieve me; By my love so ill requited, STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT. THICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling! Crystal streamlets gently flowing, In the cause of right engaged, But the heavens denied success. |