I lov'd her fo, I could not leave
The charmer of my heart;

But wedded, and conceal'd our crime;
Thus all was well again,

And now fhe thanks the happy time
She rofe and loot me in.

I

Slighted love fair to bide.

HAD a heart, but now I heartless gae ;

I had a mind, but daily was opprest ;
I had a friend that's now become my fae;
I had a will that now has freedom loft ;
What have I now ? naithing I trow,
But grief where I had joy :
What am I than ? a heartless man ;
Could love me thus destroy?

I love, I serve ane whom I much regard,
Yet for my love disdain is my reward.

Where shall I gang to hide my weary face?
Where shall I find a place for my defence?
Where my true love remains, the fittest place,
Of all the earth that is my confidence.
She has my heart 'till I depart :

Let her do what she list,

I cannot mend, but ftill depend,
And daily to insist,

To purchase love, if love my love deserve ;

If not for love, let love my body starve.

O lady fair! whom I do honour most,

Your name and fame within my breast I have; Let not my love and labour thus be lost, But still in mind I pray thee to engrave, That I am true, and fall not rue

Ane word that I have faid:

I am your man, do what you can,
When all these plays are play'd.

Then fave your ship unbroken on the fand,
Since man and goods are all at your command.

MY

Soger Laddie.

foger laddie is over the sea,

And he will bring gold and money to me ; And when he comes hame, he'll make me a lady, My bleffing gang wi' my foger laddie.

My doughty laddie is handsome and brave,

And can as a foger and lover behave;

True to his country, to love he is steddy,
There's few to compare with my foger laddie.

Shield him, ye angels, frae death in alarms,
Return him with laurels to my langing arms.
Syne frae all my care ye'll pleasantly free me,
When back to my wishes my foger ye gie me.

O foon may his honours bloom fair on his brow,
As quickly they muft, if he get his due:
For in noble actions his courage is ready,

Which makes me delight in my foger laddie.

W

Tweed-Side.

'HAT beauties does FLORA disclose?

How sweet are her fmiles upon Tweed?

Yet MARY'S ftill sweeter than those ;

Both nature and fancy exceed. Nor daify, nor sweet blushing rose,

Nor all the gay flowers of the field, Nor Tweed gliding gently through those, Such beauty and pleasure does yield.

The warblers are heard in the grove,
The linnet, the lark, and the thrush,
The blackbird, and fweet cooing dove,
With music enchant every bush.
Come, let us go forth to the mead,

Let us fee how the primroses spring;
We'll lodge in fome village on Tweed,
And love while the feather'd folks fing.

How does my love pass the long day?
Does MARY not tend a few sheep?
Do they never carelesly stray,

While happily she lyes asleep?
Tweed's murmurs fhould lull her to reft;
Kind Nature indulging my bliss,
To relieve the soft pains of my breast,
I'd steal an ambrosial kifs.

'Tis she does the virgins excel,

No beauty with her may compare ; Love's graces around her do dwell; She's faireft, where thousands are fair.

Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray?
Oh! tell me at noon where they feed ;
Shall I feek them on sweet winding Tay,
Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed?

Throw the Wood Laddie.

SANDY, why leaves thou thy NELLY to mourn?
Thy prefence cou'd ease me,

When naething can please me :

Now dowie I figh on the bank of the burn,

Or throw the wood, laddie, until thou return.

Tho' woods now are bonny and mornings are clear,
While lav'rocks are singing,

And primroses fpringing;

Yet nane of them pleases my eye or my ear,
When throw the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.

That I am forfaken, some spare not to tell ;
I'm fash'd wi' their scorning,

Baith evening and morning :

Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell,
When throw the wood, laddie, I wander myfell.

Then stay, my dear SANDY, nae langer away,
But quick as an arrow,

Hafte here to thy marrow,

Wha's living in langour till that happy day,

When throw the wood, laddie, we'll dance, fing and play.

A

To danton me.

LAS! when charming SYLVIA's gone,
I figh and think myself undone ;
But when the lovely nymph is here,

I'm pleas'd, yet grieve; and hope, yet fear.
Thoughtless of all but her I rove.

Ah! tell me, is not this call'd love?

Ah me! what pow'r can move me fo?
I die with grief when she must go,
But I revive at her return;

I fmile, I freeze, I pant, I burn :
Transports so strong, so sweet, so new,
Say, can they be to friendship due ?

Ah no! 'tis love, 'tis now too plain,

I feel, I feel the pleasing pain:
For who e'er faw bright SYLVIA's eyes,

But wish'd, and long'd, and was her prize?
God's, if the truest must be bless'd,

O let her be by me possest.

Woe's my heart that we fhould funder.

ITH broken words and downcast eyes,

WITH

Poor COLIN spoke his paffion tender;

And, parting with his GRISY, cries,

Ah! woe's my heart that we should funder.

To others I am cold as fnow,

But kindle with thine eyes like tinder;