SI came in by Tiviot-fide,
And by the braes of Brankfome, There first I faw my bonny bride,
Young, fmiling, fweet, and handsome;
Her skin was fafter than the down,
And white as alabaster;
Her hair a fhining wavy brown;
In straightness nane surpast her.
Life glow'd upon her lip and cheek,
Her clear een were surprising,
And beautifully turn'd her neck,
Her little breasts just rising.
Nae filken hose wi' goofhets fine,
Or fhoon wi' glancing laces,
On her bare leg forbade to fhine,
Well-shapen native graces.
Ae little coat, and bodice white,
Was fum of a' her claithing;
Ev'n thefe o'er mickle;-mair delyte
She'd given cled wi' naething.
She lean'd upon a flowry brae,
By which a burnie trotted;
On her I glowr'd my faul away,
While on her fweets I doated.
A thousand beauties of defert
Before had scarce alarm'd me,
Till this dear artless struck my heart,
And, butt defigning, charm'd me.
Hurry'd by love, close to my breast
I grafp'd this fund of bliffes;
Wha fmil'd, and said, Without a priest,
Sir, hope for nought but kisses.
I had nae heart to do her harm,
And yet I cou'dna want her;
What she demanded, ilka charm
Of hers pled, I shou'd grant her.
Since Heav'n had dealt to me a routh,
Straight to the kirk I led her;
There plighted her my faith and trowth,
And a young lady made her.
NCE more I'll tune the vocal shell,
To hills and dales my paffion tell; A flame which time can never quell, That burns for thee, my PEGGY. Yet greater bards the lyre should hit ; For pray what fubject is more sit, Than to record the facred wit,
And bloom of lovely PEGGY?
The fun juft rifing in the morn,
That paints the new-befpangled thorn,
Does not fo much the day adorn
As does my lovely PEGGY.
And when in THETIS' lap to rest,
He streaks with gold the ruddy west,
He's not fo beauteous as, undrest,
Appears my lovely PEGGY.
Were the array'd in ruftic weed,
With her the bleating flocks I'd feed,
And pipe upon my oaten reed,
To please my lovely PEGGY.
With her a cottage would delight,
All pleases while she's in my sight;
But when she's gone 'tis endless night,
All's dark without my PEGGY.
When Zephyr on the violet blows,
Or breathes upon the damask rose,
They do not half the sweets disclose,
As does my lovely PEGGY.
I stole a kiss the other day,
And, trust me, nought but truth I fay
The fragrant breath of blooming May
Was not fo fweet as PEGGY.
While bees from flow'r to flow'r do rove,
And linnets warble thro' the grove,
Or stately fwans the waters love
So lang fhall I love my PEGGY.
And when Death, with his pointed dart,
Shall strike the blow that wounds my heart,
My words fhall be, when I depart,
Adieu, my lovely PEGGY.
Cold Frofty Morning.
HEN innocent pastime our pleasures did crown,
Upon a green meadow, or under a tree,
Ere ANNIE became a fine lady in town,
How lovely, and loving, and bonny was she.
Rouse up thy reason, my beautiful ANNIE,
Let ne'er a new whim ding thy fancy a jee:
O! as thou art bonny, be faithful and canny,
And favour thy Jamie wha dotes upon thee.
Does the death of a lintwhite give ANNIE the spleen?
Can tyning of trifles be uneasy to thee?
Can lapdogs or monkies draw tears from those een,
That look with indiff'rence on poor dying me?
Rouse up thy reason, my beautiful ANNIE,
And dinna prefer a paroquet to me:
O! as thou art bonny, be prudent and canny,
And think upon JAMIE wha doats upon thee.
Ah! should a new mantua or Flanders lace head,
Or yet a wee coatie, though never so fine,
Gar thee grow forgetful, or let his heart bleed,
That anes had some hope of purchasing thine?
Rouse up thy reason, my beautiful ANNIE,
And dinna prefer ye'r fleegaries to me:
O! as thou art bonny, be folid and canny,
And tent a true lover that doats upon thee.
Shall a Paris edition of new-fangled SANY,
Tho' gilt o'er wi' laces and fringes he be,
By adoring himself, be admir'd by fair ANNIE,
And aim at those benifons promis'd to me?
Rouse up thy reason, my beautiful ANNIE,
And never prefer a light dancer to me:
O! as thou art bonny, be constant and canny,
Love only thy JAMIE wha dotes upon thee.
O think, my dear charmer! on ilka fweet hour,
That flade away faftly between thee and me,
Ere squirrels, or beaus, or fopp'ry had pow'r
To rival my love, or impofe upon thee.
Rouse up thy reason, my beautiful ANNIE,
And let thy defires be a' center'd in me:
O! as thou art bonny, be faithful and canny,
And love him wha's langing to center in thee.
`ROM anxious zeal and factious ftrife,
From all th' uneafy cares of life,
From beauty still to merit blind,
And still to fools and coxcombs kind;
To where the woods, in brightest green,
Like rifing theatres are seen,
Where gently murm'ring runs the rill,
And draws fresh streams from ev'ry hill:
Where PHILOMEL, in mournful strains,
Like me, of hopeless love complains,
Retir'd I pass the livelong day,
And idly trifle life away :
My lyre to tender accents ftrung,
I tell each flight, each scorn and wrong,
Then reason to my aid I call,
Review past scenes, and scorn them all.
Superior thoughts my mind engage,
Allur'd by NEWTON's tempting page,
Through new-found worlds I wing my flight,
And trace the glorious source of light:
But should CLARINDA there appear,
With all her charms of shape and air,
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