When wand'ring o'er the flow'ry Park,
No nat'ral Beauty wanting,
How lightfome is't to hear the Lark,
And Birds in Confort chanting?
But if my Chrifty tunes her Voice,
I'm rapt in Admiration;
My Thoughts with Extafies rejoice,
And drap the hale Creation.
Whene'er the smiles a kindly Glance,
I take the happy Omen,
And aften mint to make Advance,
Hoping the'll prove a Woman:
But, dubious of my ain Defert,
My Sentiments I fmother;
With fecret Sighs I vex my Heart,
For fear fhe love another.
Thus fang blate Edie by a Burn,
His Chrifty did o'er-hear him;
She daughtna let her Lover mourn,
But ere he wift drew near him.
She fpake her Favour with a Look,
Which left na Room to doubt her;
He wifely this white Minute took,
And flang his Arms about her.
My Chrifty! witnefs, bonny Stream,
Sic Joys frae Tears arifing,

I wish this may na be a Dream;

O Love the maist surprising!
Time was too precious now for Tauk;
This Point of a' his Wishes
He wadna with fet Speeches bauk,
But war'd it a'on Kiffes.

SONG CXIV. I wish my Love, &c.
Lovely Maid! how dear's thy Pow'r ?
At once I love, at once adore:
With Wonder are my Thoughts poffeft,
While fofteft Love infpires my Breaft.
This tender Look, thefe Eyes of mine,
Confefs their am'rous Mafter thine :

Thefe Eyes with Strephon's Paffion play,
First make me love, and then betray.

Yes, charming Victor, I am thine,
Poor as it is, this Heart of mine
Was never in another's Pow's,
Was never pierc'd by Love before.
In thee I've treafur'd up my Joy,
Thou can't give Blifs, or Bliss destroy :
And thus I've bound myself to Love,
While Blifs or Mifery can move.

O fhould I ne'er poffefs thy Charms!
Ne'er meet my Comfort in thy Arms;
Were Hopes of dear Enjoyment gone,
Still would I love, love thee alone.
But like fome difcontented Shade
That wanders where its Body's laid,
Mournful I'd roam with hollow Glare,
For ever exil'd from my Fair.

SONG CXV. The Kirk wad led, &c.

"TIS

Gowns,

IS I have feven braw new
And ither feven better to mak,
And yet for a' my new Gowns,
My Wooer has turn'd his Back.
Befides I have feven Milk-ky,
And Sandy he has but three ;
And yet for a' my good Ky,
The Laddie winna ha'e me.
My Dady's a Delver of Dikes,
My Mither can card and spin,
And I am a fine fodgel Lafs,

And the Siller comes linkin in
The Siller comes linkin in,
And it is fou fair to fee,
And fifty times wow! O wow!
What ails the Lads at me?
Whenever our Baty does bark,
Then faft to the Door I ring

To fee gin any young Spark
Will light and venture but in,
But never a ane will come in,
Tho' mony a ane gaes by,
Syne far ben the House I rin;
And a weary Wight am I.
When I was at my first Prayers,
I pray'd but anes i'the Year,
I wish'd for a handfome young Lad,
And a Lad with muckle Gear.
When I was at my neift Prayers,
pray but now and than,

I fafh'd na my Head about Gear,
If I got a handsome young Man,
Now when I'm at my laft Prayers,
I pray on baith Night and Day,
And O! if a Beggar wad come,

With that fame Beggar I'd gae.
And O! and what'll come o' me?
And O! what'll I do?
That fic a braw Laffie as I

Shou'd die for a Woer I trow.

SONG CXVI. Lucky Nancy, &c. Hile Fops in foft Italian Verfe,

WH

Ilk fair ane's Een and Breaft rehearse,

While Sangs abound and Scene is scarce,

Thefe Lines I have indited:

But neither Darts nor Arrows here,

Venus nor Cupid fhall appear,

And yet with thefe fine Sounds I fwear,
The Maidens are delighted.
I was ay telling you,
Lucky Nanfy, lucky Nanfy,
Auld Springs wad ding the new,
But ye wad never trow me.

Nor Snaw with Crimson will I mix,
To spread upon my Laffie's Cheeks;
And fyne th' unmeaning Name prefix,
Miranda, Chloe, or Phillis.

I il fetch nae Similie frae Jove,
My Height of Extafy to prove,

Nor fighing

thus 1

prefent my Love

With Rofes eek and Lilies.
I was ay telling you, &c.

But ftay, - I had amaift forgot
My Miftrefs, and my Sang to boot,
And that's an unco' Faut I wat:
But Nanfy, tis nae Matter,
Ye fee I clink my Verse wi' Rhime,
And ken ye, that atones the Crime;
Forby, how fweet my Numbers chime,
And flide away like Water.
I was ay telling you, Sec.

Now ken my reverend fonfy Fair,
Thy runkled Cheeks and lyart Hair,
Thy haff-fhut Een and hodling Air,
Are a' my Paffion's Fewel.

Nae skyring Gowk, my Dear, can see,
Or Love, or Grace, or Heaven in thee;
Yet thou has Charms anew for me,
Then fmile, and be na cruel.
Leez me on thy fnawy Pow,
Lucky Nanfy, lucky Nanfy,
Dryeft Wood will eitheft low,
And Nanfy fae will ye now.
Troth I have fung the Sang to you,
Which ne'er anither Bard wad do ;
Hear then my charitable Vow,
Dear venerable Nanfy.

But if the World my Paffion wrang,
And fay, ye only live in Sang,
Ken I defpife a fland'ring Tongue,
And fing to please my Fancy.
Leez me on thy, &c.

SONG CXVII. The Meal, &

THE

HE Meal was dear fhort fyne,
We buckl'd us a'the gither
G

&,

And Maggie was in her Prime,
When Willie made Courtship till her :
Twa Piftols charg`d beguess,
To gie the tourting Shot;
And fyne came ben the Lafs
With Swats drawn frae the Butt.
He firft fpeer'd at the Guidman,
And fyne at Giles the Mither,
And ye wad gi's a bit Land,
Wee'd buckle us e'en the gither.
My Daughter ye shall hae,
I'll gi' you her by the Hand;
But I'll part wi' my Wife, by my Fae,
Or I part wi' my Land.

Your Tocher it fall be good,
There's nane fall hae its maik,
The Lafs bound in her Snood,
And Crummie who kens her Stake:
With an auld Bedden o' Claiths
Was left me by my Mither,
They're jet black o'er wi' Flaes,
Ye may cuddle in them the gither.

Ye fpeak right well, Guidman,
But ye maun mend your Hand,
And think o' Modefty,

Land:

Gin ye'll not quat your
We are but young, ye ken,

And now we're gawn the gither,
A Houfe is butt and benn,

And Crummie will want her Fother.
The Bairns are coming on,

And they'll cry, O their Mither!
We have nouther Pot nor Pan,
But four bare Legs the gither.
Your Tocher's be good enough,
For that ye need na fear,
Twa good Stilts to the Pleugh,
And ye your fell maun fteer:
Ye fhall hae twa good Pocks
That anes were o' the Tweel,