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Nae mair, false Jamie, sing nae mair,
And fairly cast your pipe away;
To see his friend his love betray ::
While Jockie's notes do faithfu’ flow;
I'll keep it for my constant jo.
Blaw saft, ye gales, round Jockie's head,
And gar the waves be calm and still;
And dinna a' my pleasure spill.
Yet he will braw in siller shine;
Since Jockie may again be mine.
THE BAAES O' GLENIFFER.
Tune-" Bonnie Dundee."
The auld castle turrets are cover'd wi' snaw; How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover,
Amang the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw. The wild flow'rs o'simmer were spread a' sae bonnie,
The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree; But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie,
And now it is winter wi' nature and me.
Then ilk thing around us was blythsome and cheerie,
Then ilk thing around us was bonnie and braw;. Now naething is heard but the wind whistling drearie,
And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw.
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie; They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they
flee; And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my John
nie; 'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me. Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain,
And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae, While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded
fountain, That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me. It's no its loud roar, on the wint'ry win' swellin';
It's no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my ee; For O gin I saw but my bonnie Scots callan,
The dark days o' winter were simmer to me.
O STAY, SWEET WARBLING WOOD-LARK.
Tune--" Locherroch Side.”
Thy soothing fond complaining.
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Sic notes o' woe could waukin.
THE LILY OF THE VALE.
And sweeter still the op'ning rose;
Than any blooming flower that blows. Whilst spring her fragrant blossoms spreads,
I'll wander oft by Mary's side, And whisper saft the tender tale,
By Forth, sweet Forth's meandering tide.
There will we walk at early dawn,
Ere yet the sun begins to shine; At eve oft to the lawn we'll tread,
And mark that splendid orb's decline. The fairest, choicest flowers I'll crop,
To deck my lovely Mary's hair; And while I live, I vow and swear,
She'll be my chief, my only care.
HERE'S A HEALTH TO ANE I LOO DEAR.
TUNE_" Here's a health to them that's awa.” Here's a health to ane I loo dear, Here's a health to ane I loo dear; Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear-Jessy! Altho' thou maun never be mine,
Altho' even hope is denied ; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.
I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day,
As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms;
Here's a health, &c.
I guess by the dear angel smile,
I guess by the love-rolling ee;
Here's a health, 8c.
CAPTAIN O’KAINE. Row saftly thou stream, thro' the wild spangled valley,
O green be thy banks, ever bonnie and fair! Sing sweetly, ye birds, as ye wanton fu' gaily,
Yet strangers to sorrow, and strangers to care. The wearie day lang, I list to your sang,
And waste ilka moment, sad, cheerless, alane: Each sweet little treasure o' heart-cheering pleasure,
Far fled frae my bosom wi' Captain O’Kaine.
* BURNS, in a letter to Mr. THOMSON, written a few weeks previous to his death, says, “ I once mentioned to you an air which I have long admired-Here's a health to them that's awa, hiney, but I forget if you took any notice of it. I have just been trying to suit it with verses ; and I beg leave to recommend the air to your attention once more. I have only begun it.” In the letter to Mr. Thomson, the first three stanzas only are given, and Mr. THOMSON supposed our poet had never gone farther. A. mong his MSS. however, was found the fourth stanza, which completes this exquisite song, the last finished offspring of his muse.
Fu' aft on thy banks have we pu'd the wild gowan,
And twisted a ringlet beneath the hawthorn: Ah! then each fond moment wi' pleasure was glowin';
Sweet days o' delight, which can never return! . Now ever, waes me! the tear fills mine ee,
And sair is my heart wi' the rigour o'pain; Nae prospect returning to gladden life's morning,
For green waves the willow o'er Captain O’Kaine. ;
Wha conquer'd at Vittoria.
On the mountains o' Vittoria,
He left upon Vittoria.
He blew them at Vittoria.
Gie Britons a Vittoria.
An'smild upon Vittoria.