Thee, dear maid, have I offended? Canft thou wreck his peace for ever, Not the bee upon the bloffom, All beneath the fummer moon: Not the Poet in the moment. Fancy lightens in his ee', Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy prefence gies to me. YE BANKS AND BRAES O BONIE DOON. Air.-THE CALEDONIAN HUNT'S DELIGHT,COMPOSED BY MR. JAMES MILLER, EDINBURGH. Y E banks and braes o' bonie Doon,. How can ye bloom fae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I fae weary fu' of care! Thou❜lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowery thorn: Thou mind'st me of departed joys, Departed, never to return. Oft have I rov'd by bonie Doon, To fee the rofe and woodbine twine; And ilka bird fang o' its love, And fondly fae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu' fweet upon its thorny tree; And faufe lover ftaw my rofe, my But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. FATE GAVE THE WORD, THE ARROW SPED. A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH Air.--FINLAYSTON HOUSE, BY J. RIDDEL, AYR. ATE gave the word, the arrow fped, FA And pierc'd my darling's' heart: And with him all the joys are fled, By cruel hands the sapling drops, In duft dishonor'd laid : The mother linnet in the brake Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow, O, do thou kindly lay me low And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr; But by the sweet fide of the Nith's winding river, Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair. To equal young JESSIE, feek Scotland all over ; To equal young JESSIE, you feek it in vain : Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover, And maidenly modefty fixes the chain. Oh fresh is the rose in the gay dewy morning, Love fits in her finile, a wizard enfnaring; Enthron'd in her eyes he delivers his law: And still to her charms SHE alone is a stranger! Her modest demeanor's the jewel of a'. DUNCAN GRAY CAM' HERE TO WOO. Air.-DUNCAN GRAY. D UNCAN GRAY cam' here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooing o't; On new-year's night, when we were fou, Ha, ha, the wooing o't. MAGGIE COOft her head fu' heigh, Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand abiegh; Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd, Ha, ha, the wooing o't; |