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• Ogin my love were yon red rose,

. That grows upon the castle wa',
And I myseľ a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa'!

"Oh, there beyond expression blest,

I'd feast on beauty a' the night; Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest, 'Till Aey'd awa by Phæbus' light.'

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* O were my love yon lilac fair,

Wi' purple blossoms to the spring ;
And I, a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little w'ng :


How I wad mourn, when it was torn

By autumn wild, and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,

When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd..

. These stanzas were added by Burns.


THERE Was a lass, and she was fair,

At kirk and market to be seen, When a’ the fairest maids were met,

The fairest maid was bonnie Jean.

And ay she wrought her mammie's wark,

And ay she sang sae merrilie : The blithest bird upon the bush

Had ne'er a lighter heart than she.

But hawks will rob the tender joys

That bless the little lintwhite's nest; And frost will blight the fairest flowers,

And love will break the soundest rest.

Young Robie was the brawest lad,

The flower and pride of a' the glen; And he had owsen, sheep, and kye,

And wanton naigies nine or ten.

He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste,

He danc'd wi’ Jeanie on the down ; And lang ere witless Jeanie wist,

Her heart was tint, her peace was stown.

As in the bosom o' the stream,

The moon-beam dwells at dewy e’en; So trembling, pure, was tender love,

Within the breast bonnie Jean.

And now she works her mammie's wark,

And ay she sighs wi' care and pain; Yet wist na what her ail might be,

Or what wad make her weel again.

But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,

And did na joy blink in her e'e, As Robie tauld a tale o' love,

Ae e'enin on the lily lea?

The sun was sinking in the west,

The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; His cheek to her's he fondly prest,

And whisper'd thus his tale o' love:

O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear;

O canst thou think to fancy me!
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,

And learn to tent the farms wi' me?

At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,

Or naething else to trouble thee; But stray amang the heather-bells,

And tent the waving corn wi' me.

Now what could artless Jeanie do?
She had nae will to say

At length she blush'd a sweet consent,

And love was ay between them twa.

na :


Tune Robin Adair.'

WHILE larks with little wing,

Fann'd the pure air, Tasting the breathing spring,

Forth I did fare : Gay the sun's golden eye, Peep'd o'er the mountains high ; Such thy morn! did I cry,

Phillis the fair.

In each bird's careless song,

Glad did I share ; While yon wild flowers among,

Chance led me there : Sweet to the opening day, Rosebuds bent the dewy spray ; Such thy bloom ! did I say,

Phillis the fair.

Down in a shady walk,

Doves cooing were,
I mark'd the cruel hawk

Caught in a snare:
So kind may Fortune be,
Such make his destiny,
He who would injure thee.

Phillis the fair.


To the same Tune.

HAD I cave on some wild, distant shore,
Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar :
There would I weep my woes,
There seek my lost repose,
Till grief my eyes should close,

Ne'er to wake more.

Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare,
All thy fond plighted vows-fleeting as air !
To thy new lover hie,
Laugh o'er thy perjury,
Then in thy bosom try,

What peace is there!


Tune Allan Water.'

By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove,

While Phobus sank beyond Benleddi ;* The winds were whispering thro' the grofe,

The yellow corn was waving ready:

I listened to a lover's sang,

And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony; And ay the wild-wood echoes rang

0, dearly do I love thee, Annie !

* A mountain west of Strath-Allan, 3,009 feet high.

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