To Mary in Heaven. Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes, Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? Up in the Morning early. The chorus of this song is old; but the two stanzas are Burns's. Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly. Cauld -blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shrill I hear the blast, I'm sure it's winter fairly. The birds sit chittering in the thorn, A' day they fare but sparely; using on the Roaring Dcean. TUNE-" Druimion Dubh." MUSING on the roaring ocean, Hope and Fear's alternate billow Ye whom sorrow never wounded, Ye who never shed a tear, Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded, Gaudy Day to you is dear. Gentle Night, do thou befriend me; Downy Sleep, the curtain draw; Spirits kind, again attend me, Talk of him that's far awa! My Heart's in the Highlands. TUNE-" Faille na Miosg." My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; Farewell to the forests and wild hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; |