Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air; His very foot has music in't If Colin's weel, and weel content, For there's nae luck about the house, There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman's awa'. W. J. Mickle CXCV ABSENCE When I think on the happy days How slow ye move, ye heavy hours, It was na sae ye glinted by Anon. CXCVI JEAN Of a' the airts the wind can blaw For there the bonnie lassie lives, There wild woods grow, and rivers row, But day and night my fancy's flight I see her in the dewy flowers, There's not a bonnie flower that springs O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft What sighs and vows amang the knowes Hae pass'd atween us twa! How fond to meet, how wae to part That night she gaed awa! The Powers aboon can only ken To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean! R. Burns CXCVII JOHN ANDERSON John Anderson my jo, John, John Anderson my jo, John, R. Burns CXCVIII THE LAND O' THE LEAL I'm wearing awa', Jean, Like snaw when its thaw, Jean, I'm wearing awa' To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's neither cauld nor care, Jean, The day is aye fair In the land o' the leal. Ye were aye leal and true, Jean, Your task's ended noo, Jean, And I'll welcome you To the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean, To the land o' the leal! Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean, To the land o' the leal. In the land o' the leal! Lady Nairn CXCIX ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE Ye distant spires, ye antique towers And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way : Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow, As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring. Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen To chase the rolling circle's speed While some on earnest business bent Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Alas! regardless of their doom No sense have they of ills to come Yet see how all around 'em wait The ministers of human fate And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah show them where in ambush stand |