THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. SECOND VERSION. MRS. COCKBURN, born about the year 1710, died 1794. I'VE seen the smiling Of fortune beguiling ; I've felt all its favours, and found its decay: Kind its caressing; But now 'tis fled-fled far away. I've seen the forest Adorn'd the foremost With flowers of the fairest, most pleasant and gay; Their scent the air perfuming; But now they are wither'd and weeded away. I've seen the morning With gold the hills adorning, And loud tempest storming before the mid-day; Shining in the sunny beams Grow drumly and dark as he row'd on his way. O fickle Fortune, Why this cruel sporting; Oh, why still perplex us, poor sons of a day? Nae mair your frowns can fear me; For the Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. This song is an imitation, but not a good one, of Miss Elliot's, and appeared originally in Herd's Collection in 1776. THE moon had climb'd the highest hill Her silver light on tower and tree, Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea; When soft and low a voice was heard, Saying, "Mary, weep no more for me!" She from her pillow gently raised Her head, to ask who there might be, It lies beneath a stormy sea; Three stormy nights and stormy days So, Mary, weep no more for me! O maiden dear, thyself prepare; We soon shall meet upon that shore "Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!" LOGIE O' BUCHAN. GEORGE HALKET, died 1756. O LOGIE O' Buchan, O Logie the laird! They ha'e ta'en awa' Jamie, that delved in the yard, He said, Think na lang, lassie, though I gang awa'; Though Sandy has ousen, has gear, and has kye, He said, Think na lang, &c. My daddie looks sulky, my minnie looks sour, I sit on my creepie, I spin at my wheel, And think on the laddie that lo'ed me sae weel; Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa'; And ye'll come back and see me in spite o' them a'. Mr. Peter Buchan states that this song was written by a schoolmaster at Rathen in Aberdeenshire, of the name of George Halket, who died in 1756. Mr. Halket was a Jacobite, and wrote some squibs after the "Forty-five," which gave such offence to the Duke of Cumberland that he offered a reward of 100l. for the author's head. The poet, however, escaped the danger, and died peaceably in his bed. The hero of the piece was a James Robertson, gardener at Logie. LOW DOWN I' THE BRUME. JAMES CARNEGIE. From "The Lark," a collection of Scottish Songs, 1765. My daddie is a cankert carle, But let them say, or let them do, It's a' ane to me; For he's low doun, he's in the brume, That's waitin' on me : Waitin' on me, my love, He's waitin' on me : For he's low doun, he's in the brume, My auntie Kate sits at her wheel, And sair she lightlies me; But weel ken I it's a' envy, For ne'er a joe has she. My cousin Kate was sair beguiled But let them say, &c. Gleed Sandy he cam' wast yestreen, MATRIMONIAL HAPPINESS. JOHN LAPRAIK. 1780. WHEN I upon thy bosom lean, And fondly clasp thee a' my ain, I glory in the sacred ties That made us ane wha ance were twain. A mutual flame inspires us baith, The tender look, the meltin' kiss : Even years shall ne'er destroy our love, But only gi'e us change o' bliss. Hae I a wish? it's a' for thee! And aye when weary cares arise, Thy bosom still shall be my hame. I'll lay me there and tak' my rest; And beg her not to drop a tear. |