Come here to me, thou lass whom I love, The morning is full of the presence of God, The wind is sweet amang the new flowers, The Beuk maun be ta'en when he comes hame, Wi' the holie psalmodie, And I will speak of thee when I pray, MY NANIE-O. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. Red rowes the Nith 'tween bank and brae, Mirk is the night and rainie-o, Though heaven and earth should mix in storm, I'll gang and see my Nanie-o; My Nanie-o, my Nanie-o; My kind and winsome Nanie-o, She holds my heart in love's dear bands, And nane can do't but Nanie-o. In preaching time sae meek she stands, Sae saintly and sae bonnie-o, I cannot get ae glimpse of grace For thieving looks at Nanie-o; My Nanie-o, my Nanie-o; The world's in love with Nanie-o; That heart is hardly worth the wear That wadnae love my Nanie-o. My breast can scarce contain my heart, I guess what heaven is by her eyes, They sparkle so divinely-o; My Nanie-o, my Nanie-o; The flower o' Nithsdale's Nanie-o; Love looks frae 'neath her long brown hair, And says, I dwell wi' Nanie-o. Tell not, thou star at gray day light, None ken o' me and Nanie-o; THE ROSE OF SHARON. JAMES HOGG. Oh saw ye the rose of the east To breathe in the sweets of my rose. On her couch with the lilies inwove? Or if wantons the breeze with her breast? For my heart it is sick for my I charge you, ye virgins unveiled, love. That stray 'mong the pomegranate trees, By the roes and the hinds of the field, That ye wake not my love till she please. The garden with flowers is in blow, And roses unnumbered are there Then tell how thy love we shall know, For the daughters of Zion are fair. A bed of frankincense her cheek; Her smile from the morning she wins ; As the cedar that smiles o'er the wood; Mid the stars and the planets above→→→ Even so among women is she, And my bosom is ravished with love. Return with the evening star, And our couch on Amana shall be: From Shinar and Hermon afar, Thou the mountain of leopards shalt see. O Shulamite! turn to thy rest, Where the olive o'ershadows the landAs the roe of the desert make haste, For the singing of birds is at hand. LORD RANDAL. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. A cold wind and a starless sky, Oh! come, Lord Randal, open your door, The snaw hangs in my scarlet robe, Oh! come, Lord Randal, open your door, Oh! open that I may see Ae glance but of that bonnie blue eye That charm'd my heart frae me: Once mair the music of that tongue Her voice sank low as the tender babe's A That makes its gentle moan, cry still heard by that castle wa' In midnight mirk and lone: Lord Randal called his true love thrice, And wept and paused to hear; But, ah! ne'er mortal voice again Might win that lady's ear. |