Though stars in skies may disappear,
And angry tempests gather;
The happy hour may soon be near
That brings us pleasant weather:
The weary night o' care and grief
May ha'e a joyfu' morrow;
So dawning day has brought relief-
Farewell our night o' sorrow!
AS I WAS A-WAND'RING.
Tune-"Rinn M'eudial mo Mhealladh,' -a Gaelic air.
As I was a-wand'ring a midsummer e'enin',
The pipers and youngsters were makin' their game;
Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover,
Which bled a' the wound o' my dolour again.
Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him!
may be distressed, but I winna complain;
I'll flatter my fancy I may git anither,
My heart it shall never be broken for ane.
I couldna get sleeping till dawin for greetin';
The tears trickled down like the hail and the rain:
Had I na got greetin',' my heart wad a broken,
For, oh! luve forsaken's a tormenting pain!
Although he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow,
Than ever ha'e acted sae faithless to him.
Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him,
I may be distressed, but I winna complain;
I'll flatter my fancy I may git anither,-
My heart it shall never be broken for ane.
BESS AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL.
Túne "The sweet lass that lo'es me."
O, LEEZE me on my spinning-wheel,
And leeze me on my rock and reel;
Fra tap to tae that cleeds me bien,3
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
1 Weeping. 2 O bless my spinning-wheel, "I love my spinning-wheel."
I'll set me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sun,
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal-
O, leeze me on my spinning-wheel!
On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit" cot;
The scented birk and hawthorn white ·
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest
And little fishes caller rest:
The sun blinks kindly in the biel',"
Where blithe I turn my spinning-wheel.
On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the doolfu' tale;
The lintwhites 4 in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays:
The craik 5 amang the clover hay,
The paitrick whirrin' o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin'7 round my shiel,s
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.
Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
O, wha wad leave this humble state
For a' the pride of a' the great?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinning-wheel ?
Ó, LUVE will venture in where it daur na weel be seen,
O, luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been;
But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood sae green,
And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May.
The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,
And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear,
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer;
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
1 Low. 4 Linnets.
7 Dodging.
2 Thatched.
5 Corn-rail.
• Shed.
I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou';
The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there;
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air,
And a to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey,
Where, like an agèd man, it stands at break o' day;
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna take away;
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near,
And the diamond-draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear;
The violet 's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve,
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove: And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.
IN simmer, when the hay was mawn,
And corn waved green in ilka field,
While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
And roses blaw in ilka bield; '
Blithe Bessie, in the milking shiel,2
Says, I'll be wed, come o't what will:
Out spak' a dame, in wrinkled eild,
O' guid advisement comes nae ill.
It's ye ha'e wooers mony ane,
And, lassie, ye 're but young, ye ken;
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale,3
A routhie butt, a routhie ben.+
There's Johnnie o' the Buskie-glen,
Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre;
Tak' this frae me, my bonnie hen,
It's plenty beets the luver's fire.
Nook.
2 Shed.
A plentiful back and front to the house.
For Johnnie o' the Buskie-glen,
I dinna care a single flie;
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
He has nae luve to spare for me:
But blithe's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear;
Ae blink o' him I wad nae gi'e
For Buskie-glen and a' his gear.
O, thoughtless lassie, life's a faught;
The canniest gate, the strife is sair;
But aye fu' han't is fechtin best,
A hungry care 's an unco care:
But some will spend, and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun ha'e their will;
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.3
O, gear will buy me rigs o' land,
And gear will buy me sheep and kye;
But the tender heart o' leesome 4 luve,
The gowd and siller canna buy.
We may be poor-Robie and I;
Light is the burden luve lays on;
Content and luve bring peace and joy,-
What mair ha'e queens upon a throne?
While the life beats in my bosom,
Thou shalt mix in ilka throe:
Turn again, thou lovely maiden,
Ae sweet smile on me bestow.
Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sinny noon;
Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon;
Not the poet in the moment
Fancy lightens on his e'e,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture
That thy presence gi'es to me.
Tune-"Ye Jacobites by name."
YE Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear;
Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear;
Ye Jacobites by name,
Your fautes I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I maun blame
What is right, and what is wrang, by the law, by the law;
What is right, and what is wrang, by the law?
What is right, and what is wrang?
A short sword, and a lang,
A weak arm, and a strang
For to draw.
What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife?
To whet th' assassin's knife,
Or hunt a parent's life
Wi' bludie war.
Then let your schemes alone in the state, in the state;
Then let your schemes alone in the state;
Then let your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man undone
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