Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy ? 171 But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river Are lovers as faithful an' maidens as fair: To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over; To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain; Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover, An' maidenly modesty fixes the chain. Oh, fresh is the rose in the gay dewy morning, An' sweet is the lily at evening close; Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law : Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a’! CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS, MY KATY? TUNE-“Roy's wife of Aldivalloch.” CHORUS CANST thou leave me thus, my Katy? Is this thy plighted, fond regard, Thus cruelly to part, my Katy? An aching, broken heart, my Katy? Farewell ! and ne'er such sorrows tear That fickle heart of thine, my Katy! But not a love like mine, my Katy! MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. TUNE—“Failte na Miosg." [“ The first half-stanza of this song is old, the rest is mine."--Burns. ] My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below: My Heart's in the Highlands. 173 Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.. My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; BONNIE JEAN. Tune-"Willie was a wanton wag,” or “Bonnie Jean.” [“The heroine of the following is Miss (Jean) M'Murdo), daughter to Mr. M (Murdo), of D rumlanrig!. I have not painted her in the rank which she holds in life, but in the dress and character of a cottager."-R.B.] THERE was a lass, and she was fair, At kirk and market to be seen; The fairest maid was bonnie Jean. An'aye she sang sae merrilie: Had ne'er a lighter heart than she. But hawks will rob the tender joys That bless the little lintwhite's nest; An' love will break the soundest rest. The flower and pride of a' the glen; An' wanton naigies nine or ten. He gaed wi’ Jeanie to the tryste, He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down; Her heart was tint, her peace was stown. The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en; So trembling, pure, was tender love Within the breast o' bonnie Jean. An' now she works her mammie's wark, An' aye she sighs wi' care an' pain; Yet wist na what her ail might be, Or what wad mak' her weel again. But did na Jeanie's heart loup light, An' did na joy blink in her e'e, As Robie tauld a tale o' love Ae e’enin' on the lily lea? . The sun was sinking in the west, The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; His cheek to hers he fondly prest, An' whisper'd thus his tale o' love. “O Jeanie fair, I lo’e thee dear; Oh, canst thou think to fancy me; Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot, An' learn to tent the farms wi' me ? “At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge, Or naething else to trouble thee; But stray amang the heather bells, An' tent the waving corn wi' me.” She had nae will to say him na; An' love was aye between them twa. |