« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill, Or a rook built his nest on the pine.
Could I trace back the time, to far distant date,
He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name,
For my child I've preserved it, unblemished with
And it still from a spot shall be free.
LEAVE OFF YOUR FOOLISH PRATING.
Leave off your foolish prating
Talk no more of Whig and Tory,
Fill up to the top,
Let the night with mirth be crown'd;
Love and friendship still go round.
If claret be a blessing,
This night devote to pleasure;
To be a party minion,
Fill your glass, name your lass,
Drink about-see it out,
Let the night with mirth be crown'd.
HER BLUE ROLLIN EE'.
My lassie is lovely as May day adorning
Wi' gowans an' primroses ilka green lea; Tho' sweet is the violet, new blawn i' the morning? As tender and sweet is her blue rollin' ee. O say what is whither than snaw on the mountain, And bonny her face as the red rose can be. See yon lowly cottage that stands by the wild wood, Hedg'd round wi' sweet briar and green willow tree,
Twas yonder I spent the first days o' my childhood,
Aye dear was the valley where Ettrick meander'd; Aye dear was the blink o' her blue rollin' ee.
O for the evening, and O for the hour,
When down by yon green wood she promis'd to
When quick as the summer dew dries on the flower,
In the heart-melting blink o' my lessie's blue
OH! TURN THOSE DEAR, DEAR EYES
Oh! turn those dear, dear eyes away,
They tell a tale too true;
Nor listen to my sighs, love,
Give me, my love, before we part,
My little bark so gay and light,
And when on lone and distant shores, 8 I wander by the moon's pale light, In memory of our former loves,
I'll think on thee and this Good night.
LOW IN A VALE.
Low in a vale where a streamlet ran,
A pilgrim measur'd the wit of man,
Mark every glance that confirms her sway,
CANST THOU LOVE MARY?
Canst thou love me, Mary?
Nae greater gift can Heaven bestow,
Thou hast stown my heart, O Mary dear,
Canst thou love me, &c.
When first the muin peeps o'er the hill,
And by two dazzling stars, thy e'en,
'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER.
'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
So soon may I follow
When friendships decay,
This bleak world alone!