INDEX TO FIRST LINES A Accept the gift a friend sincere A guid New-Year I wish thee, Maggie! Ah, Chloris, since it may na be A little, upright, pert, tart, tripping wight All devil as I am a damned wretch All hail, inexorable lord! Altho' my bed were yon muir Altho' thou maun never be mine Amang the trees where humming bees. Among the heathy hills and ragged woods Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! An honest man here lies at rest Anna, thy charms my bosom fire 103 75 244 61 47 229 As Father Adam first was fool'd 246 As I cam in by our gate end 161 As I stood by yon roofless tower 150 As I was a-wand'ring ae midsummer e'enin' At Brownhill we always get dainty good cheer B VOL. PAGE Bannocks o' bear meal Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing By yon castle wa', at the close of the day Coming through the rye, poor body Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair Could aught of song declare my pains Curs'd be the man, the poorest wretch in life D Dear I'll gie ye some advice Dear Smith, the slee-est, paukie thief Dire was the hate at old Harlaw Does haughty Gaul invasion threat Duncan Gray cam here to woo E Earth'd up here lies an imp o' hell F Fair Empress of the Poet's soul 211 125 Index to First Lines Fair maid, you need not take the hint. Fair the face of orient day Farewell, dear friend! may Guid Luck hit you Farewell, old Scotia's bleak domains Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North Fate gave the word, the arrow sped First when Maggie was my care. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes For Lords or Kings I dinna mourn Forlorn, my love, no comfort near Friday first's the day appointed Friend of the Poet, tried and leal From thee, Eliza, I must go From those drear solitudes and frowsy cells Full well thou know'st I love thee dear 221 201 217 Grant me, indulgent Heaven, that I may Guid speed an' furder to you, Johnny. H Had I a cave on some wild, distant shore Here cursing, swearing Burton lies 251 Here is the glen, and here the bower 153 Here Holy Willie's sair-worn clay 208 Here lies a mock Marquis whose titles were shamm'd. Here souter Hood in death does sleep. Here where the Scottish Muse immortal lives He who of Rankine sang lies stiff and dead Honest Will to heaven's away How can my poor heart be glad How cold is that bosom which folly once fired How daur ye ca' me "Howlet-faced" How lang and dreary is the night How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace How Wisdom and Folly meet, mix, and unite "Husband, husband, cease your strife" I I am a bard of no regard 89 I am a keeper of the law 239 I am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars "I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn' I call no goddess to inspire my strains I coft a stane o' haslock woo I do confess thou art sae fair I'm now arrived, thanks to the gods! I'm three times doubly o'er your debtor Inhuman man! curse on thy barb'rous art 251 ΙΟ 54 283 243 275 237 44 150 In Mauchline there dwells six proper young belles 22 In politics if thou wouldst mix 236 In simmer when the hay was mawn 114 Instead of a Song, boys, I'll give you a Toast In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men 5 304 235 245 82 192 Is this thy plighted, fond regard It was a' for our rightfu' King It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral It was the charming month of May It was upon a Lammas night VOL. PAGE 170 252 174 171 64 156 III 167 Lament him, Mauchline husbands a' Lament in rhyme, lament in prose Late crippled of an arm, and now a leg Let me ryke up to dight that tear Let not woman e'er complain Let other heroes boast their scars Let other Poets raise a fracas 310 42 279 248 250 52 Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen 191 272 86 163 236 12 230 228 226 230 231 49 Life ne'er exulted in so rich a prize Light lay the earth on Billy's breast Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks Long life, my Lord, an' health be yours Lord, to account who dares Thee call Lord, we thank Thee and adore Loud blaw the frosty breezes Louis, what reck I by thee My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, My Harry was a gallant gay My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie My heart is sair, I daurna tell |