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MARY MORISON.

Tune-"Bide ye yet."

O MARY, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How blithely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun; Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen when to the trembling string,
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair and that was braw
And you the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd and said amang them a',
"Ye are na Mary Morison."

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake would gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only fault is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown!
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

FAIR JENNY.

Tune" Saw ye my father?"

WHERE are the joys that I've met in the morning!
That danc'd to the lark's early song?
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,
At evening the wild woods among?

No more a winding the course of yon river,
And marking sweet flow'rets so fair;
No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure,
But sorrow and sad sighing care.

Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,
And grim, surly winter is near?

No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses,
Proclaim it the pride of the year.

Fain would I hide what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long too well have I known:
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Nor hope dare a comfort bestow:

Come then, enamor'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.

ADDRESS,

TO THE WOOD-LARK.

Tune" Where'll bonie Ann lie." Or, "Loch Eroch-side."

O STAY, Sweet warbling wood-lark stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,

Thy soothing, fond complaining.

Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wad touch her heart,
Wha kills me with disdaining.

Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' wo could wauken.

Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief and dark despair;
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
Ör my poor heart is broken!

FRAGMENT,

IN WITHERSPOON'S COLLECTION OF SCOT'S SONGS.

Air" Hughie Graham."

O WERE my love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring;
And I a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing:

How I wad mourn when it was torn
By autumn wild, and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May Its bloom renew❜d.*

"O gin my love were yon red rose,

That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel' a drap o' dew,

Into her bonie breast to fa'!

"O, there beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light."

* These stanzas were prefixed by Burns.

ADDRESS TO A LADY.

Он, wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee:
Or did misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.

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Or were I in the wildest waste,

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desert were a paradise,

If thou wert there, if thou wert there, Or were I monarch o' the globe,

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown, Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

THE AULD MAN.

BUT lately seen in gladsome green ́

The woods rejoice the day,

Thro' gentle showers the laughing flowers In double pride were gay.

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