Than a' the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o'er the sultry line,- While day and night can bring delight, Or Nature aught of pleasure give,— While joys above my mind can move, For thee, and thee alone, I live. When that grim foe of life below Comes in between to make us part, The iron hand that breaks our band, It breaks my bliss,-it breaks my heart. Robert Burns [1759-1796] MY BONNIE MARY Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, And fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink, before I go, A service to my bonnie 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 bonnie Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The glittering spears are rankèd ready; The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; A RED, RED ROSE O, MY luve's like a red, red rose That's sweetly played in tune. I Love My Jean As fair thou art, my bonnie lass, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare-thee-weel, my only luve! 927 Robert Burns [1759-1796] I LOVE MY JEAN OF a' the airts the wind can blaw For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo❜e best: There's wild woods grow, and rivers row, And monie a hill between; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale And bring the lassie back to me That's aye sae neat and clean; Ae smile o' her wad banish care, Sae charming is my Jean. What sighs and vows amang the knowes Hae passed 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! The first two stanzas by Robert Burns [1759-1796] The last two by John Hamilton [1761-1814] THE ROVER'S ADIEU From "Rokeby" A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid, A weary lot is thine! To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, A doublet of the Lincoln green— No more of me ye knew, No more of me ye knew. "This morn is merry June, I trow, The rose is budding fain; But she shall bloom in winter snow -He turned his charger as he spake "Loudoun's Bonnie Woods and Braes" 929 "LOUDOUN'S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES" "LOUDOUN'S bonnie woods and braes, I maun lea' them a', lassie; "Hark! the swelling bugle sings, Waefu' thoughts to me, laddie. When Vengeance drives his crimson car, And nane to close thy e'e, laddie.” "O! resume thy wonted smile! Till the day we dee, lassie. 'Midst our bonnie woods and braes As blithe's yon lightsome lamb that plays On Loudoun's flowery lea, lassie." Robert Tannahill [1774-1810] "FARE THEE WELL" FARE thee well! and if for ever, 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Would that breast, by thee glanced over, 'Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee,- Though my many faults defaced me, Than the one which once embraced me, Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Still thine own its life retaineth;— Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is that we no more may meet. These are words of deeper sorrow Wake us from a widowed bed. |