FRAGMENT, IN WITHERSPOON'S COLLECTION OF SCOT'S SONGS. AIR "Hughie Graham." O WERE my love yon lilac fair, When wearied on my little wing: How wad I mourn when it was torn "O gin my love were yon red rose, And I mysel' a drap o' dew "O, there beyond expression blest, * 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, 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, Thro' gentle show'rs the laughing flow'rs But now our joys are fled But my white pow, nae kindly thowe Oh, age has weary days, And nights o' sleepless pain; Thou golden time o' youthful prime, Why com'st thou not again? JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow: But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, If she winna ease the thraws, BANKS OF NITH. TUNE "Robie Donna Gorach." THE Thames flows proudly to the sea, But sweeter flows the Nith to me, Where Commons ance had high command! When shall I see that honor'd land, How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales, Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom! How sweetly wind thy sloping dales, Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom! Tho' wand'ring now, must be my doom, BANKS OF CREE. HERE is the glen, and here the bow'r, "Tis not Maria's whisp'ring call; It is Maria's voice I hear! So calls the wood-lark, in the grove, His little faithful mate to cheer: At once 'tis music and 'tis love. And art thou come? and art thou true? CASTLE GORDON. STREAMS that glide in orient plains, There commix'd with foulest stains |