CONSTANCY. TUNE- "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 lav! For a' the lee-lang simmer's day, I could na sing, I could na say How much, how dear 1 love thee. I see thee danc mg o'er the green, By heaven and earth, I love thee! 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, Blest be the wild sequester'd shade, May seize my fleeting breath; خورشیت شهد ميه 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 ineet, 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; But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, Here's &c. I guess by the dear angel smile, I guess by the love-rolling e'e; But why urge the tender confession, Jessy. 'Gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree — Jessy. Here's &c. THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE I GAED a waefu' gate, yestreen, She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd, To her twa een sae bonie blue. 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 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, |