Adown winding Nith I did wander. 177 ADOWN WINDING NITH I DID WANDER. TUNE-"The mucking o' Geordie's byre." ADOWN winding Nith I did wander, To mark the sweet flowers as they spring; Adown winding Nith I did wander, Of Phillis to muse an' to sing. CHORUS. Awa' wi' your belles an' your beauties, Has met wi' the queen o' the fair. The daisy amus'd my fond fancy, The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer, Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour, Her voice is the song of the morning, That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove, When Phoebus peeps over the mountains, On music, an' pleasure, an' love. But, beauty, how frail an' how fleeting- BY ALLAN STREAM I CHANC'D TO ROVE. TUNE " Allan Water." ["I walked out yesterday evening with a volume of the Museum in my hand; when turning up 'Allan Water,' 'What numbers shall the muse repeat,' &c., as the words appeared to me rather unworthy of so fine an air, I sat and raved under the shade of an old thorn till I wrote one to suit the measure."-Burns to Thomson.] * By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove While Phoebus sank beyond Benledi;* The winds were whispering thro' the grove, The yellow corn was waving ready: I listen'd to a lover's sang, An' thought on youthfu' pleasures mony; An' aye the wild-wood echoes rang— Oh, dearly do I love thee, Annie !† "A mountain, west of Strathallan, 3,009 feet high.”—Burns. Come, let me take thee to my Breast. Oh, happy be the woodbine bower, Nae nightly bogle make it eerie; Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, The place, an' time I met my dearie! Her head upon my throbbing breast, She, sinking, said, "I'm thine for ever!" While mony a kiss the seal imprest, The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, Is autumn in her weeds o' yellow! Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure? Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart, Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure? 179 COME, LET ME TAKE THEE TO MY BREAST. TUNE-"Cauld kail." COME, let me take thee to my breast, An' pledge we ne'er shall sunder; An' I shall spurn as vilest dust The world's wealth an' grandeur: An' do I hear my Jeanie own That I may live to love her. Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms, An' by thy een sae bonnie blue, HAD I A CAVE. TUNE-" Robin Adair." ["You will remember an unfortunate part of our worthy friend Cunningham's story, which happened about three years ago. That struck my fancy, and I endeavoured to do the idea justice as follows."-Burns to G. Thomson, August, 1793.] HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore, Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar; There seek my lost repose, Ne'er to wake more! |