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And that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday ;
30 She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
And often am I blamed
35 As soon as text is named ; I leave the church in sermon-time
And slink away to Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
40 When Christinas comes about again
O then I shall have money; I'll hoard it up, and box it all,
I'd give it all to Sally ;
And she lives in our alley.
Make game of me and Sally,
A slave and row a galley ;
O then I'll marry Sally,—
An' fill it in a silver tassie ;
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 rankéd ready ; 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 shout o' war that's heard afarIt's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
If doughty deeds my lady please
Right soon I'll mount my steed; And strong his arm, and fast his seat,
That bears frae me the meed.
Thy picture in my heart ;
O tell me how to woo thee !
Tho' ne'er another trow me.
If gay attire delight thine eye
I'll dight me in array ;
And squire thee all the day.
; Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysell,
That voice that nane can match.
But if fond love thy heart can gain,
I never broke a vow
Nae maiden lays her skaith to me,
I never loved but you.
30 For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Tho' ne'er another trow me.
R. GRAHAM OF GARTMORE,
TO A YOUNG LADY Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade, Apt emblem of a virtuous maidSilent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay busy throng : With gentle yet prevailing force, Intent upon her destined course ; Graceful and useful all she does, Blessing and blest where'er she goes ; Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass, And Heaven reflected in her face.
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile
Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still wear a smile
And move, and breathe delicious sighs !
Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks
And mantle o'er her neck of snow: Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks
What most I wish and fear to know !
She starts, she trembles, and she weeps !
Her fair hands folded on her breast : ---And now, how like a saint she sleeps !
A seraph in the realms of rest !
Sleep on secure ! Above control
Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee : And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary !
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
Bid us sigh on from day to day,
But busy, busy, still art thou,
For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,
The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrow'd name : Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
But Cloe is my real flame.
My softest verse, my darling lyre
Upon Euphelia's toilet layWhen Cloe noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs ; And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes.
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.
When lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fair ! How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care !
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird 5
That sings upon the bough ; Thou minds me o' the happy days
When my fause Luve was true.