O welcome Echo, Nymph unseen
An frae y'er airy shell
Waft the sweet song across the green
O'her I lo'e sa weel.
Hark, for I ken the strain that floats
Sae gently o'er the lea
Those soft an sweetly warbled notes
Oft gart my sorrows flie.
Haste then an feed these trembling ears,
Fly Echo fly the brae!
Then bear her music to the Spheres,
To cheer them on their way;
Till for her soul they find a place
Abo'e the starry skies,
Where singing she may gie new grace
To Heav'ns bless'd symphonies.
Ane day while ganging lang the street,
Atween the late an early,
A lo'ely minstrel girl I met,
Alane an greeting sairly,
The frost was hard, the snaw lay deep,
The weather wild an bleary,
I thought that I maun also weep
For purtye cau'd an dreary.
A Christian coof yclept a lord
Came by, to prayers gaeing:
Hizzy, quoth he, ye've sleept abroad,
An now y'er lute are playing.
In the Gude's name, I maun consign
Vagrants to prison,
hear ye,
Tis the best place to rot an pine,
For purtye cau'd an dreary.
How dare ye sleep in open air,
That hae na land to ring in?
Or lilt in market, street, or fair,
Wha hae nae ha' to sing in.
For Christ his sake who lo'ed the pur
An help'd the sick an weary,
Hie to the dungeon, quit the muir.
Curst purlye cau'd an dreary.
A stranger wi an atheist's fame,
Wha spied her sorrin features,
Now led her to his ingle, hame,
Ay free to a' puir creatures;
Here, in untutor'd Nature's fane,
The lass got warm an cheery,
An e'en the dog ga'e half his bane
To purtye cau'd an dreary.
Troth I maun doff, thought I, the mask,
Let Faith na mair be canting,
Justice gies man a higher task
To aid the sick an wanting.
Let kirk an Aristocrasy
Join hands in palace cheery :
There is nae hame in Christendie:
For purtye cau'd an dreary.
(31) ON THE TOMB OF SHARGS. 1838.
As o'er the pansied grave we jog
Of ilka lov'd and honourd dog
What tears o sorrow flow.
For though in each succeeding race
The faint ressemblance we may trace
Of those who rest below.
The selsame dear confiding friend,
As him for whom our hearts we rend,
Will near again be given:
The dearest that I ever knew
To day demands the pious vow
That we may meet in Heaven.
Wie oft du mir, geliebter hund,
Ich weis nicht wie, so fremde bist
Wenn wir im schwarm der hunden sind,
Das schlacht mir alle freude nieder;
Aber wenn still und finster alles ist,
Erkenn ich deine bow wow wieder.
Sweet queen of flowers!
Say now where art thou hiding,
Beneath th' starred welkin's carpet blue,
That seems just spread anew,
The rosebuds and the' odorous hawthorn bowers,
That while thou wast abiding
Among us, in our blosom'd gardens grew,
Say, goddess, where
Those purple blooms are gone;
Hast thow transform'd them to the mottled skies
Where, with thy sister Pleiades,
Thou wearest them in thy bright amber hair,
Or do they fade upon
Thy boson, where thy fondest suitor dies?
When I was a lad I was glaikit to roam
Frae London to Paris, to Greece an to Rome,
But o' a' sic diversions I'm tired an wae,
An I find my ain ingle my pleasure to day.
O sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear
Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends anguid cheer.
I've revell'd wi topers in towers an ha's
An dance'd wi fair maidens in di'mands an braws
But now I'm content wi my wife to abide,
And the boosie auld dog o' my ain fireside.
O sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear
Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends anguid cheer.
When winter is howling an freezing without
I gather my wee things my ingle about
Dear Betty now sings a new ballad to me,
While Annie comes toddling up wi the tea.
O sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear
Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends anguid cheer.
When Norie comes in, to be ane o' the thrang,
An our Veteran Chieftain his guid friends amang :
Then cozie we chat o'er auld Scotia'ss wrongs,
An lilt a wee verse frae our Jacobite songs.
O sootie auld lum, when the fire bren clear
Hoo sweet is your blink wi guid friends anguid cheer.
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