Although on Hielan' blooming braes
An primrose vallies fresh an grassie
I liv'd my bairnhood's cantie days,
In Lawlan' plains I foun' my lassie
O my luvelie Lawlan' lassie,
My bonnie blythsame Lawlan' lassie:
The sweetest flower in Flora's bower
Is sure my ain dear Lawlan' lassie.
Of a' the girls in tower or ha',
An we have lassies blythe an bonnie, I'd tak my Mimie first of a'
Because I loe her best o' onie,
O my bonnie Lawlun' lassie,
My bonnie blythsame Lawlan' lassie:
The sweetest flower in Flora's bower
Is sure my ain dear Lawlan' lassie.
Fein wad I dwell wi ye dear maid
Amang the hills where liv'd my Daddie
Wi bonnet blue an tartan plaid
Aye buskit as a Hielan' laddie.
O my luvelie Lawlan' lassie
My bonnie blythsame Lawlan' lassie,
The sweetest flower in Flora's bower
Is sure my ain dear Lawlan' lassie.
But sin ye be a Lawlan' lassie,
Ye are
a bonnie bloomin' lassie
Ye'r always fair, in bower er byre,
My ain dear lovelie Lawlan' lassie.
O my lovely Lawlan' lassie
My blythsame bonnie Lawlan' lassie,
The sweetest flower in Flora's bower
Is sure my ain dear Lawlan' lassie.
Alang yer path the pansies glow,
Aroun' ye blows the yellow broom,
Sweet Flora's busk'd for ye below,
An blest Urania smiles aboon.
Then let me kiss my bonnie lassie,
Lovelie lassie, Lawlan lassie,
The hawthorn shade for love was made,
An heather blooms for us, my lassic.
THE BORDER JACOBITE'S LAY.
Shall Scotland's glories for aye be forgotten,
Her praises interr'd wi' her heroes of old,
Shall her warriors fa' on a soil that is rotten,
Her Muses a' sleep, while her tale is untold
Nay, the bluid o' the slain that is shed on her borders,
Have water'd the seeds of ambition an love,
An the minstrel shall sing o' her woes and disorders
Sac long as ane piper respond frae the grove. While the heather shall bloom on the braes o' Lochabar, The broom an the gowan shall smile upon Ayr, While the bairns o' Dun Edin shall dance to the tabor The Muses o' Scotland her trophies shall wear.
Ah Marie yer soil is still fertile at Flodden,
By the Waters o' Derwent our laurels yet grow, An the thistle shall bloom on the field of Culloden
Till the last o' her bards shall lie buried below. If her poets were dead to the truth o' her story,
Her plumes have been carried by wind o'er the sea,
An while lealtie shall glow by the ingle o' Norie,
His twa bonnie lassies her Muses maun be.
Tho' her glories to day should be sunk in her sorrow
Her wrongs like her Heros should fade on the plain
O' Forster's long line there shall rise up tomorrow
A bard wha can feel them and sing them again.
Though Elizabeth still on our banners may trample
The tartan o' Stuart maun yet be our showd,
Auld Scotia will rise a great glorious example,
When the trumpet of judgement shall scatter her cloud.
Wi' right guid friends, the hallan roun'
Where Mirth and toddy flaw,
In winter's night, by ingle bright,
While angry whirlwinds blaw,
Hoo sweet to see our bairnhood's days
Where Fancy paints the scene
An Memory's glass reflects the rays
Of Auld Lang Syne.
The vari top we used to spin
Seems still to be our ain,
The kyte we flew spangs into view
On infant wings again.
O childish joys o' days o' yore!
Hoo glamour'd is the time
When thocht asklent the scenes can glent
Of Auld Lang Syne.
The lass, the pride youthfu' hearts,
Wha long has dwelt afar,
May then be seen to rise at e'en'
As passion's gloaming star :
The bonnie maid in tartan plaid,
That ance was Love's an mine,
Still treads the braes, as in the days
Of Auld Lang Syne.
The yellow broom on a' the knowes,
The gowans on the lea,
The heather bloom an guelder rose
Are cropt again by me,
Again I view the Lawlan' grove
Whas form can never tine,
For there I told the tale o' love
In Auld Lang Syne.
Sin earlie hours, my jo, were ours,
We've spun life's little span,
Sad Care oppress'd our sorrin breast
Or Fortune fill'd the han'!
But aye, our ills are soon forgot
An we maun nae repine,
While Memory cheers our later years
Wi Auld Lang Syne
So fill yer' cup my cantie friend,
To wake the wearie soul
An lunt a wee an lilt wi' me
While Hebe serves the bowl,
Then let us a', in merrie song,
Bid Love an Hope combine
To mak our age repeat the page
Of Auld Lang Sync.
AIR Corfe's harmony for four voices.
Such beauties does Flora display,
When coylie she smile upon me,
That Urania leaming and gay.
Is scarcelie mair lovelie that she.
The petals o' Flora expand,
Like the citron that blosoms in fruit,
When she pipes to the touch of her hand,
Then Philosophy sings to the lute.
When her notes, like a voice frae the sky,
Bring their solace an charm to my ears,
Care an Sorrow seem willing fly
Before Harmony come frae te Spheres.
But the lis for Urania blaws
Her neek is a white as the snow,
Her cheeks are as pink as the rose,
In her e'en the blue violets glow.
Wi her amber locks drooping sae sweet
Berenice's can never compare,
Nor the glow worm that the shines at her feet
Sae bright as the sparks frae her hair.
The dasies that bend to her tread
Shew that Earth to her homage is given,
And the stars that glint over her head
Scen to stoop and salute her from Heaven.
This is another emblematical song, in allusion to the comparative advantages of Botany and Astronomy.
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