ON WI' THE TARTAN. HUGH AINSLIE. Do ye like, bonnie lassie, The hills wild and free, Where the song of the shepherd Gaurs a' ring wi' glee; Or the steep rocky glens Where the wild falcons bide? Then on wi' the tartan, Do And, fy, let us ride. ye like the knowes, lassie, That ne'er were in riggs; Or the bonnie lowne howes Where the sweet robin biggs; Or the sang of the linnet When wooing his bride?— Then on wi' the tartan, Do ye like the burn, lassie, Built snug by its side?- And, fy, let us ride. THE EVENING STAR. THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. Star, that bringest home the bee, That send'st it from above- Are sweet as hers we love. Come to the luxuriant skies, Whilst the landscape's odours rise; Star of love's soft interviews! THE MOON WAS A-WANING. JAMES HOGG. The moon was a-waning, And fond was the lover; But the snow was so deep, That his heart it grew weary, And he sunk down to sleep O soft was the bed She had made for her lover, And embroidered the cover; And his canopy grander; And sounder he sleeps Where the hill-foxes wander. Alas, pretty maiden, What sorrows attend you! I see you sit shivering With lights at your window: But long may you wait, Ere your arms shall enclose him; The moon is gleaming far and near, An hour for charm and spell, O thou wert born as fair a babe Born in the April moon: babe First like the lily pale ye grew, Was it a breath of evil wind That harm'd thee, lovely child? Or was't the fairy's charmed touch I've watch'd thee in the mirk midnight, The moon is sitting on the hill, The owl doth chase the bearded bat, On a far sea thy father sails Among the spicy isles; He thinks on thee, and thinks on me, And as he thinks, he smiles And sings, while he his white sail trims, And severs swift the sea, About his Anna's sunny locks, And of her bright blue e'e. |