TUNE CONSTANCY. My love is lost to me." O, WERE I on Parnassus' hill! To sing how dear I love thee. But Nith maun be my Muse's well, And write how dear I love thee. Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay! For a' the lee-lang simmer's day, I could na sing, I could na say How much, how dear I love thee. I see thee dancing o'er the green, By night, by day, a-field, at hame, I only live to love thee. Though I were doom'd to wander on, Till then and then I love thee. PEGGY'S CHARMS. TUNE-"N. Gow's Lamentation for Abercairny." WHERE braving angry winter's storms, The lofty Ochels rise, Far in their shade my Peggy's charms, Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam, With art's most polish'd blaze. Blest be the wild sequester'd shade, The tyrant Death, with grim control, May seize my fleeting breath; But tearing Peggy from my soul. JESSY. TUNE- "Here's a health to them that's awa, hiney." CHORUS. HERE'S a health to ane I lo'e dear, Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear; Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear - Jessy! Altho' thou maun never be mine, Altho' even hope is denied; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside― Jessy! Here's &c. I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, As hopeless I muse on thy charms; I guess by the dear angel smile, But why urge the tender confession, - Jessy! 'Gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree - Jessy! THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE. I GAED a waefu' gate, yestreen, She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd, WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE? WILT thou be my dearie? When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee? By the treasure of my soul, And that's the love I bear thee! I swear and vow that only thou Shall ever be my dearie: Only thou, I swear and vow, Shall ever be my dearie. Lassie, say thou lo'es me; Or, if thou wilt na be my ain, Trusting that thou lo’es me. THE BLISSFUL DAY. TUNE "Seventh of November." THE day returns, my bosom burns, Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet: Than a' the pride that loads the tide, And crosses o'er the sultry line; Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes, Heaven gave me more-it made thee mine. While day and night can bring delight, |