I. There's nought but care on ev'ry han', Green grow, c II. The warly race may riches chase, III. Green grow, c. But gie me a canny hour at e'en, IV. Green grow, &c. For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. V. Green grow, c. Auld nature swears, the lovely dears Green grow, c, SONG. Tune, "Jockey's grey breeks." L Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, CHORUS. And maun I still on Meniet doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e! For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be! II. In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me, in glen or shaw, And maun I still, &c. III. The merry ploughboy cheers his team, But life to me 's a weary dream, A dream of ane that never wauks. And maun I still, c. IV. The wanton coot the water skims, Amang the reeds the ducklings cry, And maun I still, &c. This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's. + Mente is the common abbreviation of Mariamne. V. The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, I meet him on the dewy hill, And maun I still, &c. VI. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, And maun I still, &c. VII. Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, CHORUS. And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her e'e! For it's jet, jet black, and it's like a hawk, The gloomy night is gath'ring fast, *We cannot presume to alter any of the poems of our bard, and more especially those printed under his own direction; yet it is to be regretted that this chorus, which is not of his own composition, should be attached to these fine stanzas, as it perpetually interrupts the train of sentiment which they excite. E. Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, II. The autumn mourns her rip'ning corn III. 'Tis not the surging billow's roar, IV. Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Farewell, my friends! Farewell, my foes! K 2 SONG. Tune, "Gilderoy." 1. From thee, Eliza, I must go, They never, never can divide II. Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, While death stands victor by, That throb, Eliza, is thy part, THE FAREWELL, To the Brethren of St. James's Lodge, TARBOLTON. Tune, "Good night and joy be wi' you a'." I. Adieu! a heart-warm, fond adieu ! |