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SANG XIX. Bufh aboon Traquair

Sung by Peggy, p. 55

T fetting day and rifing morn,
With foul that ftill fhall love thee,
I'll ask of heaven thy fafe return,

With all that can improve thee.
I'll vifit oft the birken bush,

Where first thou kindly told me Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush, Whilft round thou didst infold me.

To all our haunts I will repair,
By greenwood fhaw or fountain;
Or where the fummer-day I'd fhare
With thee, upon yon mountain.
There will I tell the trees and flowers,
From thoughts unfeign'd and tender,
By vows you're mine, by love is yours
A heart which cannot wander.

SANG XX. Bonny grey-ey'd Morn,

TH

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HE bonny grey-ey'd morning begins to peep,
And darknefs flies before the rifing ray,
The hearty hynd starts from his lazy fleep,
To follow healthful labours of the day;
Without a guilty fting to wrinkle his brow,
The lark and the linnet tend his levee,
And he joins their concert, driving his plow,
From toil of grimace and pageantry free.

While flufter'd with wine, or madden'd with lofs
Of half an eftate, the prey of a main,
The drunkard and gamefter tumble and tofs,
Wishing for calmness and flumber in vain.

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Be my portion health and quietnefs of mind,
Plac'd at due diftance from parties and state,
Where neither ambition, nor avarice blind,
Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate,

On our Ladies being dreffed in SCOTS manufactory, at a public Affembly.

A SON G.

To the tune of, O'er the hills and far away,

ET meaner beauties use their art,

Our fair can captivate the heart

In native weeds, nor look the lefs.
More bright unborrow'd beauties fhine,
The artless sweetness of each face
Sparkles with luftres more divine,
When freed of every foreign grace..

The tawny nymph on fcorching plains,
May ufe the aid of gems and paint,
Deck with brocade and Tyrian ftains
Features of ruder form and taint.
What Caledonian ladies wear,

Or from the lint or woollen twine,
Adorn'd by all their sweets, appear
Whate'er we can imagine fine.

drefs,

Apparel neat becomes the fair,
The dirty dress may lovers cool;
But clean, our maids need have no care,
If clad in linen, filk or wool.-
T'adore Myrtilla who can cease?
Her active charms our praise demand,
Clad in a mantua, from the fleece,
Spun by her own delighted hand.

Who can behold Califta's eyes,

Her breaft, her cheek, and fnowy arms,

S. 3.

And'

And mind what artists can devise,
To rival more fuperior charms ?
Compar'd with thofe, the diamond's dull,
Lawns, fatins, and the velvets fade;
The foul with her attractions full,
Can never be by these betray'd.
Sapphira, all o'er native fweets,
Not the falfe glare of drefs regards,
Her wit, her character completes,

Her fmile her lovers fighs rewards.
When fuch first beauties lead the way,
Th' inferior rank will follow foon;
The arts no longer shall decay,
But trade encourag'd be in tune.
Millions of fleeces fhall be wove,

And flax that on the valleys blooms,
Shall make the naked nations love

And blefs the labours of our looms :
We have enough, nor want from them,
But trifles hardly worth our care,
Yet for thefe trifles let them claim
What food and cloth we have to fpare.
How happy's Scotland in her fair!
Her amiable daughters fhall,
By acting thus with virtuous care,
Again the golden age recall:
Enjoying them, Edina ne'er

Shall mifs a court; but foon advance

In wealth, when thus the lov'd

appear

Around the scenes, or in the dance.

Barbarity fhall yield to fenfe,

And lazy pride to useful arts,

When fuch dear angels in defence

Of virtue thus engage their hearts."

Blefs'd guardians of our joys and wealth,
True fountains of delight and love,

Long bloom your charms, fix'd be your health,

Till tir'd with earth ye mount above.

HARDY

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HARDY KNUTE.

A Fragment of an old heroic Ballad.

I.

Tately ftept he eaft the wa,
And ftately stept he weft,

Full feventy years he now had feen,
With scarce feven years of reft.
He liv'd when Britons breach of faith
Wrought Scotland meikle wae :
his fword tauld to their coft,

And ay

He was their deadly fae.

II.

Hie on a hill his caftle ftude,
With halls and towers a hight,
And guidly chambers fair to fee,
Where he lodg'd mony a knight.
His dame fae pierlefs anes and fair,
For chafte and beauty deimt,
Nae marrow had in all the land,
Save Elenor the Queen.

III.

Full thirteen fons to him fhe bare,
All men of valour ftout:

In bluidy fight, with fword in hand,
Nyne loft their lives bot doubt;
Four yet remain, lang may they live
To ftand by liege and land:

Hie was their fame, hie was their might,
And hie was their command.

IV.

Great love they bare to Fairly fair,
Their fifter faft and deir,

Her girdle fhawd her middle jimp,

And gowden glift her hair.

What waefou wae her bewtie bred ?

Waefou to young and auld.

Waefou I trou to kyth and kin,
As ftory ever tauld,

The

V.

The king of Norfe in fummer-tide,
Puft up with power and might,

Landed in fair Scotland the ifle,
With mony a hardy knight :
The tidings to our gude Scots King.
Came as he fat at dyne,

With noble chiefs in brave array,
Drinking the blude-red wyne.

VI.

"To horse, to horfe, my royal liege,
"Your faes ftand on the ftrand,
"Full twenty thousand glittering fpears
"The king of Norfe commands."
Bring me my feed, Madge, dapple gray,
Our gude king raife and cry'd;
A truftier beaft in all the land
A Scots king never fey'd..

VII.

Go, little page, tell Hardyknute,
That lives on hill fo bie,

To draw his word the dreid of faes,
And hafte and follow me.

The little page flew fwift as dart

Flung by his master's arm,

Come down, come down, Lord Hardyknute,,

And redd your king frae harm.

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Then reid, reid grew his dark-brown cheiks,

Sae did his dark-brown brow;

His looks grew keen as they were wont

In dangers great to do;

He has tane a horn as green as grass,

And gien five founds fae fhrill,

That trees in green wood fhook thereat,,
Sae loud rang ilka hill.

IX.

His fons in manly fport and glie,.
Had paft the fummer's morn,

When

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