The Complete Works of Robert Burns

The stream, adown its hazelly path, Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's, Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, Whase distant roarings swell and fa's.

The cauld blue north was streaming forth Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din; Athort the lift they start and shift,

Like fortune's favours, tint as win.

By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes, And, by the moonbeam, shook to see A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,

Attir'd as minstrels wont to be.

Had I a statue been o' stane,

His darin look had daunted me: And on his bonnet grav'd was plain The sacred posy Libertie!

And frae his harp sic strains did flow, Might rous'd the slumbering dead to hear;

But oh, it was a tale of woe,

As ever met a Briton's ear!

He sang wi' joy his former day,

He weeping wail'd his latter times; But what he said it was nae play,

I winna venture't in my rhymes.

O, WERT THOU IN THE
CAULD BLAST.

TUNE-" The Lass of Livingstone."
O, WERT thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee.
Or did misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,

To share it a', to share it a'.

Or were I in the wildest waste,

Of earth and air, of earth and air, The desart were a paradise,

If thou wert there, if thou wert there. Or were I monarch o' the globe,

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The only jewel in my crown

Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

THE HIGHLAND LASSIE. TUNE-"The deuks dang o'er my daddy." NAE gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair, Shall ever be my Muse's care; Their titles a' are empty show; Gie me my Highland lassie, O.

CHORUS.

Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O,
I set me down wi' right good will,
To sing my Highland lassie, O.

Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland lassie, O.
Within the glen, &c.

But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea;
But while my crimson currents flow
I'll love my Highland lassie, O.
Within the glen, &c.

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change,
For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
My faithful Highland lassie, O.

Within the glen, &c.

For her I'll dare the billow's roar,
For her I'll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland lassie, O.
Within the glen, &c.

She has my heart, she has my hand,
By sacred truth and honour's band!
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, ().

Fareweel the glen sae bushy, O!
Fareweel the plain sae rushy, (!
To other lands I now must go,
To sing my Highland lassie, O!

JOCKEY'S TA'EN THE PART-
ING KISS.

JOCKEY'S ta'en the parting kiss,
O'er the mountains he is gane;
And with him is a' my bliss,

Nought but griefs with me remain.

Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw, Plashy sleets and beating rain! Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw, Drifting o'er the frozen plain! When the shades of evening creep O'er the day's fair, gladsome ee, Sound and safely may he sleep, Sweetly blithe his waukening be! He will think on her he loves, Fondly he'll repeat her name; For where'er he distant roves, Jockey's heart is still at hame.

PEGGY'S CHARMS.

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form,.
The frost of hermit age might warm;
My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind,
Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy's angel air,
Her face so truly, heavenly fair,
Her native grace so void of art;
But I adore my Peggy's heart.
The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye;
Who but owns their magic sway,
Who but knows they all decay!
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The generous purpose, nobly dear,
The gentle look that rage disarms,
These are all immortal charms.

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.

CHORUS.

Up in the morning's no for me,

Up in the morning early;
When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,

I'm sure it's winter fairly.

CAULD blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely;
And lang's the night frae e'en to morn,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Up in the morning, &c.

THO' CRUEL FATE. THO' cruel fate should bid us part,

As far's the pole and line; Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine.

Tho' mountains frown and deserts howl,
And oceans roar between;
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,
I still would love my Jean.

I DREAM'D I LAY WHERE FLOWERS WERE

SPRINGING.

I DREAM'D I lay where flowers were springing

Gaily in the sunny beam; List'ning to the wild birds singing,

By a falling, crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring; Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave; Trees with agèd arms were warring,

O'er the swelling, drumlie wave. Such was my life's deceitful morning, Such the pleasures I enjoy'd; But lang or noon, loud tempests storming A' my flowery bliss destroy'd. Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me,

She promis'd fair, ard perform'd butill; Of monie a joy and hope bereav'd me, I bear a heart shall support me stiil.

BONIE ANN.

YE gallants bright, I red you right,
Beware o' bonie Ann:

Her comely face sae fu' o' grace,

Your heart she will trepan. Her een sae bright, like stars by night, Her skin is like the swan; Sae jimpy lac'd her genty waist,

That sweetly ye might span.

Youth, grace, and love, attendant move,
And pleasure leads the van;

In a' their charms, and conquering arms,
They wait on bonie Ann.
The captive bands may chain the hands,
But love enslaves the man:
Ye gallants braw, I red you a',
Beware o' bonie Ann.

MY BONIE MARY.

Go fetch to me a pint o' wine,
An' fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go,

A service to my bonie lassie.
The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith;
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry;
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bonie Mary.

The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are rankèdready;
The shouts o' war are heard afar,

The battle closes thick and bloody;
But it's no the roar o' sea or shore
Wad mak me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shout o' war that's heard afar,
It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of valour, the country of worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY.
TUNE-"Neil Gow's lament."

THERE'S a youth in this city, it were a great pity,
That he from our lasses should wander awa;
For he's bonie and braw, weel-favour'd witha',
And his hair has a natural buckle and a'.

His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue;

His fecket as white as the new-driven snaw;

His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'.

His coat is the hue, &c.

For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin;
Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and braw;
But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her,
The pennie's the jewel that beautifies a'.

There's Meg wi' the mailin, that fain wad a háen him,
And Susy whase daddy was Laird o' the ha';

There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy,
But the laddie's dear sel he lo'es dearest of a'.

THE RANTIN DOG THE

DADDIE O'T.

TUNE-"East nook o' Fife.” O WHA my babie-clouts will buy? Wha will tent me when I cry? Wha will kiss me whare I lie? The rantin dog the daddie o't. Wha will own he did the faut? Wha will buy my groanin maut? Wha will tell me how to ca't?

The rantin dog the daddie o't. When I mount the creepie-chair, Wha will sit beside me there? Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair, The rantin dog the daddie o't. Wha will crack to me my lane? Wha will mak me fidgin fain? Wha will kiss me o'er again? The rantin dog the daddie o't.

YON WILD

I DO CONFESS THOU ART
SAE FAIR.

I DO confess thou art sae fair,
I wad been o'er the lugs in luve;
Had I not found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak, thy heart
could muve.

I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind

That kisses ilka thing it meets.
See yonder rose-bud rich in dew,
Amang its native briers sae coy,
How soon it tines its scent and hue
When pu'd and worn a common toy!
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
Tho' thou may gaily bloom a while;
Yet soon thou shalt be thrown aside,
Like onie common weed and vile.

MOSSY MOUNTAINS.

YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,

That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,

Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed:
Where the grouse, &c.

Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores,
To me hae the charms o' yon wild mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely, sequester'd clear stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path,
Ilk stream foaming down its ain green narrow strath;
For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove,
While o'er us unheeded fly the swift hours o' love.

She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair;

O' nice education but sma' is her share;

Her parentage humble as humble can be,

But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,

In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs?
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
They dazzle our een, as they fly to our hearts.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling ee,
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me;
And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR?

WHA is that at my bower door?

O wha is it but Findlay;
Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here!
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.
What mak ye sae like a thief?

O come and see, quo' Findlay;
Before the morn ye'll work mischief;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
Gif I rise and let you in;

Let me in, quo' Findlay;
Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
In my bower if
ye should stay;

Let me stay, quo' Findlay;
I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
Here this night if ye remain;

I'll remain, quo' Findlay;
I dread ye'll learn the gate again;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
What may pass within this bower-
Let it pass, quo' Findlay;
Ye maun conceal till your last hour;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

FAREWELL TO NANCY.
AE fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deepin heart-wrungtears I'llpledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met- or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee well, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure.

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

THE BONIE BLINK O'
MARY'S EE.

Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green,
An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring,
By Girvan's fairy haunted stream

The birdie's flit on wanton wing. To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's, There wi' my Mary let me flee, There catch her ilka glance o' love, The bonie blink o' Mary's ee!

The chield wha boasts o' warld's wealth, Is aften laird o' meikle care;

But Mary, she is a' my ain,

Ah, fortune canna gie me mair! Then let me range by Cassillis' banks Wi' her the lassie dear to me, And catch her ilka glance o' love, The bonie blink o' Mary's ee!

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