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Loud blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover ; Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young highland rover

Far wanders nations over. Where'er he go, where'er he stray,

May heaven be his warden ; Return hiin safe to fair Strathspey,

And bonnie Castle-Gordon !

The trees now naked groaning,

Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging, The birdies dowie moaning,

Shall a' be blythely singing,

And every flower be springing.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,

When by his mighty warden
My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey,

And bonnie Castle-Gordon*,


Tune, “ M'Grigor of Rero's Lament."

Raving winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella stray'd deploring.
“ Farewell, hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure ;

be lying concealed in some cave of the Highlands, after the battle of Culloden. This song was written before the year 1788.

E. * The young highland rover is supposed to be the young chevalier, Prince Charles-Edward. E.

Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night that knows no morrow.

“O’er the past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless future pondering;
Chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to misery most distressing,
O how gladly I'd resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee* !"


Tune, “ Druimion dubh."

Musing on the roaring ocean,

Which divides my love and me; Wearying heaven in warm devotion,

For his weal where'er he be.

Hope and fear's alternate billow

Yielding late to nature's law, Whisp'riug spirits round my pillow

Talk of him that's far awa.

Ye whom sorrow never wounded,

Ye who never shed a tear, Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,

Gaudy day to you is dear.

Gentle night, do thou befriend me;

Downy sleep, the curtain draw; Spirits kind, again attend me,

Talk of him that's far awa!

The occasion on which this poem was written is unknown to the editor. It is an early composio tion.



Blythe, blythe and merry was she,

Blythe was she but and ben: Blythe by the banks of Erin,

And blythe in Glenturit glen.

By Oughtertyre grows the aik,

On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonnier lass
Than braes o Yarrow ever saw.

Blythe, &c.

Her looks were like a flow'r in May,

Her smile was like a simmer mora ;
She tripped by the banks of Ern,
As light's a bird upon a thorn.
Blythe, dc.

Her bonnie face it was as meek

As ony lamb upon a lee ;
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e.

Blythe, doc.

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,

And o'er the Lowlands I hae been; But Phemie was the blythest lass That ever trode the dewy green.

Blythe, bc.

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A rose-bud by my early walk,
Adown a corn-inelosed bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,

All on a dewy morning.

Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fied,
In a' its crimson glory spread,

And drooping rich the dewy head,

It scents the early morning.

Within ihe bush, her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest,
The dew sat chilly on her breast

Sae early in the morning.

She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,

Awake the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling strings or vocal air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care

That tents thy early morning.

So thou sweet rose-bud, young and

gay, Shalt eauteous blaze upon the day, And bless the parent's evening ray

That watch'd thy early morning*.




Tune, “ N. Gow's Lamentation For Abercairny."

Where, braving angry winter's storms,

The lofty Ochels rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms

First blest my wondering eyes.
As one who, by some savage streami,

A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd doubly marks it beam

With art's most polish'd blaze.

* This song was written during the winter of 1787.

Miss J. C. daughter of a friend of the bard, is the heroine.

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,

And bless the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,

When first I felt their pow'r !
The tyrant death with grim controul

May seize my fleeting breath;
But tearing Peggy from my soul

Must be a stronger death.


Túne, “ Invercald's Reel."
Tibbie, I hae seen the day,

You would na been sae shy;
For laik o gear ye lightly me,

But trowth, I care na by.

Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.

O Tibbie, I hae, &c.

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o'clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.

O Tibbie, I hae, de.

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy queen
That looks sae proud and high.

O Tibbie, I hae, &c.

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.

o Tibbie, I hae, Oca

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