The bird that cham'd his summer-day,
Is now the cruel fowler's prey;
Let witless, trusting woman say
How aft her fate's the same, jo.
I tell, &c
TUNE "Let me in this ae night."
FORLORN, my love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here,
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, love.
O wert thou, love, but near me,
But near, near, near me ;
How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, love.
Around me scowls a wint'ry sky,
That blasts each bud of hope and joy.
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
Save in those arms of thine, love.
O wert, &c.
Cold, alter'd Friendship's cruel part,
To poison Fortune's ruthless dart-
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love.
O wert, &c.
But dreary tho' the moments fleet
O let me think we yet shall meet
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, love.
O wert, &c.
"Cauld Kail in Aberdeen."
How long and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie!
I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.
For oh, her lanely nights are lang;
And oh, her dreams are eerie ;
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie.
When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi' thee, my dearie;
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I but be eerie?
How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
The joyless day, how dreary!
It was na sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi' my dearie.
For oh, &c.
O POORTITH Cauld, and restless love,
To wreck my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a' I could forgive,
An' twere na for my Jeany.
O why should Fate sic pleasure have
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as Love,
Depend on Fortune's shining?
This warld's wealth, when I think o It's pride and a' the lave o't;
Fie, fie on silly coward man,
That he should be the slave o't
O why, &c.
Her een sae bonie blue betray
How she repays my passion;
But prudence is her o'erword ay,
She talks of rank and fashion.
O why &c.
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sic a lassie by him?
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am?
How b.est the humble cotter's fate'
He woos his simple dearie;
The sillie bogles, wealth and state,
Can never make them eerie.
CLARINDA, mistress of my soul
The measur'd time is run!
The wretch beneath the dreary pole,
So marks his latest sun.
To what dark cave of frozen night
Shall poor Sylvander hie?
Depriv'd of thee, his life and light,
The sun of all his joy.
but by these precious drops
That fill thy lovely eyes!
No other light shall guide my steps
Till thy bright beams arise.
She, the fair sun of all her sex,
Has blest my glorious day;
And shall a glimm'ring planet fix
My worship to its ray?
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;
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night, that knows no morrow!
"O'er the past too fondly wand'ring,
On the hopeless future pond'ring;
Chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of ev'ry blessing,
Load to mis'ry most distressing,
O, how gladly I'd resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee!"
WANDERING WILLIE.
HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud away hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.
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