What is life when wanting love?
- Night without a morning:
Love's the cloudless summer sun
Nature gay adorning.

SHE SAYS SHE LO'ES ME BEST OF A'.

TUNE-"Onagh's waterfall."

SAE flaxen were her ringlets,

Her eyebrows of a darker hue, Bewitchingly o'er-arching

Twa laughing een o' bonnie blue.

Her smiling, sae wiling,

Wad mak' a wretch forget his woe:

What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto those rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris' bonnie face,
When first her bonnie face I saw,
An' aye my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a',

Like harmony her motion;

Her pretty ankle is a spy,

Betraying fair proportion,

Wad make a saint forget the sky.

Sae warming, sae charming,

Her faultless form an' graceful air;

Saw ye my Phely?

Ilk feature-auld Nature

Declar'd that she could do nae mair.
Hers are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering beauty's sovereign law;
An' aye my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

Let others love the city,

And gaudy show at sunny noon; Gi'e me the lonely valley,

The dewy eve, and rising moon Fair beaming, and streaming

Her silver light the boughs amang;

While falling, recalling,

The amorous thrush concludes his sang:
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
An' hear my vows o' truth an' love,
An' say thou lo'es me best of a'.

189

SAW YE MY PHELY?

TUNE-"When she cam' ben she bobbit."

Oн, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love, She winna come hame to her Willie.

What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
An' for ever disowns thee, her Willy.

Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.

LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN.

TUNE-"Duncan Gray."

["These English songs gravel me to death. I have not that command of the language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at 'Duncan Gray' to dress it in English, but all I can do is deplorably stupid. For instance."-Burns to Thomson.]

LET not woman e'er complain

Of inconstancy in love;
Let not woman e'er complain
Fickle man is apt to rove:

Look abroad through Nature's range,
Nature's mighty law is change;
Ladies, would it not be strange

Man should then a monster prove?

My Chloris, mark how Green the Groves. 191

Mark the winds and mark the skies;
Ocean's ebb and ocean's flow:
Sun and moon but set to rise,
Round and round the seasons go.

Why then ask of silly man
To oppose great Nature's plan?
We'll be constant while we can-

You can be no more, you know.

MY CHLORIS, MARK HOW GREEN THE GROVES.

TUNE "My lodging is on the cold ground."

["On my visit, the other day, to my fair Chloris (Jean Lorimer), she suggested an idea, which I, on my return from the visit, wrought into the following song."-Burns to Thomson.]

My Chloris, mark how green the groves,

The primrose banks how fair;

The balmy gales awake the flowers,

And wave thy flaxen hair.

The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,

And o'er the cottage sings:
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.

Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
In lordly lighted ha':

The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blithe in the birken shaw.

The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours
Beneath the milk-white thorn?

The shepherd in the flowery glen
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,

But is his heart as true?

These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:
The courtier's gems may witness love,
But 'tis na love like mine.

IT WAS THE CHARMING MONTH OF

MAY.

TUNE-"Dainty Davie."

[Altered from an old English song.]

It was the charming month of May,
When all the flowers were fresh and gay,

One morning by the break of day,

The youthful, charming Chloe,