I would it were ten thousand pound, She is the darling of my heart, My master and the neighbours all But when my seven long years are out O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, H. CAREY. 132. A FAREWELL. Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, That I may drink before I go A service to my bonnie lassie : The boat rocks at the pier of 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 shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; But it's not the roar o' sea or shore Wad make me langer wish to tarry ; Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar— It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary. R. BURNS. 133. If doughty deeds my lady please And he that bends not to thine eye Shall rue it to his smart! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love · For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take If gay attire delight thine eye I'll tend thy chamber door all night, If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, But if fond love thy heart can gain, Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, For you I wear the blue; O tell me how to woo! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Tho' ne'er another trow me. GRAHAM OF GARTMORE 134. TO A YOUNG LADY. Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maid— Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng: Graceful and useful all she does, W. CowPER, 135. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY. Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile- And move, and breathe delicious sighs! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Sleep on secure! Above controul S. ROGERS. 136. For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove And when we meet a mutual heart Bid us sigh on from day to day, But busy, busy, still art thou, For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer, All other blessings I resign, Make but the dear Amanda mine. J. THOMSON. 137. The merchant, to secure his treasure, My softest verse, my darling lyre When Cloe noted her desire That I should sing, that I should play. My lyre I tune, my voice I raise, Fair Cloe blush'd: Euphelia frown'd: I sung, and gazed; I play'd, and trembled: And Venus to the Loves around Remark'd how ill we all dissembled. 138. M. PRIOR. When lovely woman stoops to folly The only art her guilt to cover, O. GOLDSMITH. 139. Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon And I sae fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird For sae I sat, and sae I sang, Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon |