Nae birns, brier, or breckens gave trouble to me,
If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee.

PEGGY.

When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the stane,
And came aff the victor, my heart was ay fain :
Thy ilka fport manly gave pleasure to me,
For nane can put, wrestle, or run swift as thee.

PATIE.

Our Jenny fings faftly the Cowden broom-knows,
And Rofie lilts fweetly the Milking the ews;
There's few Jenny Nettles like Nancy can fing,
At Throw the wood laddie, Befs gars our lugs ring:
But when my dear Peggy fings with better skill,
The Boat-man, Tweedfide, or the Lafs of the mill,
'Tis many times fweeter and pleafing to me:
For tho' they fing nicely, they cannot like thee.

PEGGY.

How eafy can laffes trow what they defire? And praises fae kindly increases love's fire: Give me ftill this pleasure, my study shall be To make myself better and fweeter for thee.

SANG XI. By the delicious warmness of thy mouth. Sung by Patie and Peggy, p. 27.

Printed in the PASTORAL, and in this MISCELLANY, vol. 1. p. 75.

H

SANG XII. Happy Clown.

Sung by Sir William, p. 30.

ID from himself, now by the dawn He ftarts as fresh as roses blawn, And ranges o'er the heights and lawn, After his bleating flocks;

Healthful,

Healthful, and innocently gay

He chants, and whiftles out the day;
Untaught to smile, and then betray,
Like courtly weathercocks.

Life happy from ambition free,
Envy and vile hypocrifie,

Where truth and love with joys agree,
Unfully'd with a crime :

Unmov'd with what disturbs the great,
In propping of their pride and state,
He lives, and, unafraid of fate,
Contented spends his time.

SANG XIII. Leith-wynd.

Sung by Jenny and Roger, p. 37.

Ere I affur'd you'll conftant prove,

WE You fhou'd nae mair complain,

The easy maid, befet with love,
Few words will quickly gain;
For I must own, now fince you're free,
This too fond heart of mine

Has lang, a black-fole true to thee,
Wish'd to be pair'd with thine.

ROGER.

head

I'm happy now, ah! let my

Upon thy breaft recline;"

The pleasure ftrikes me nearhand dead!
Is Jenny then fae kind!

O let me brifs thee to my heart!

And round my arms entwine: Delytful thought! we'll never part: Come prefs thy mouth to mine.

SANG

SANG XIV. O'er Bogie.

Sung by Jenny, p. 38.

W Next to my father gae.

Ell, I agree, you're fure of me;

Make him content to give confent,
He'll hardly fay you nay:
For you have what he wad be at,
And will commend you weel,
Since parents auld think love grows cauld,
Where bairns want milk and meal.

Shou'd he deny, I carena by,

He'd contradict in vain.

Tho a' my kin had faid and fworn,

But thee I will have nane.

Then never range, or learn to change,
Like those in high degree:

And if you prove faithful in love,

You'll find nae fault in me.

SANG XV. Wat ye wha I met yeftreen,

N

Sung by Sir William, p. 43-

OW from rufticity, and love,
Whofe flames but over lowly burn,

My gentle fhepherd must be drove,
His foul must take another turn:
As the rough diamond from the mine,
In breaking only fhews its light,

Till polishing has made it fhine;

Thus learning makes the genius bright.

VOL. II.

* S

SANG

SANG XVI. Kirk wad let me be,

Sung by Patie, p. 49.

Duty and part of reason

;

Plead ftrong on the parent's fide,
Which love fuperior calls treafon
The strongest must be obey'd:
For now tho' I'm one of the gentry,
My conftancy falfehood repels ;
For change on my heart has no entry,
Still there my dear Peggy excels,

SANG XVII. Woes my heart that we should

Spe

funder.

Sung by Peggy, p. 52.

Peak on,
fpeak thus, and still my grief,
Hold up a heart that's finking under
Thefe fears, that foon will want relief,
When Pate muft from his Peggy funder,
A gentler face, and filk attire,

A lady rich in beauty's bloffom,
Alake poor me will now confpire

To fteal thee from thy Peggy's bofom.

No more the fhepherd who exceli'd

The reft, whofe wit made them to wonder, Shall now his Peggy's praifes tell;

Ah! I can die, but never funder. Ye meadows where we often ftray'd,

Ye banks where we were wont to wander, Sweet-fcented rucks round which we play'd, You'll lose your sweets when we're afunder,

Again, ah! fhall I never creep
Around the know with filent duty,
Kindly to watch thee while afleep,
And wonder at thy manly beauty?

Hear,

Hear, heaven, while folemnly I vow,
Tho' thou fhouldst prove a wand'ring lover,
Through life to thee I fhall prove true,
Nor be a wife to any other.

SANG XVIII. Tweed-fide.

Sung by Peggy, p. 53.

7 Hen hope was quite funk in defpair,
My heart it was going to break;
My life appear'd worthlefs my care,
But now I will fav't for thy fake.
Where-e'er my love travels by day,
Where-ever he lodges by night,
With me his dear image fhall stay,
And my foul keep him ever in fight.

With patience I'll wait the long year,
And ftudy the gentleft charms;
Hope time away till thou appear,
To lock thee for ay in those arms.
Whilft thou waft a fhepherd, I priz'd
No higher degree in this life;
But now I'll endeavour to rife

To a height that's becoming thy wife.

For beauty that's only skin-deep,
Muft fade like the gowans of May;
But inwardly rooted, will keep
For ever, without a decay.

Nor age, nor the changes of life,

Can quench the fair fire of love,

If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife,

And the husband have sense to approve.