The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatter'd coveys meet secure;
While here I wander, prest wi' care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.
The autumn mourns her rip'ning corn,
By early winter's ravage torn;
Across her placid azure sky
She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave-
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.
'Tis not the surging billow's roar,
'Tis not that fatal deadly shore:
Tho' death in every shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear!
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound;
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.
Farewell old Coila's hills an' dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales--
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!
Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr!
TUNE-"Macpherson's rant."
FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie!
Macpherson's time will not be long
On yonder gallows-tree.
Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
Sae dauntingly gaed he;
He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round,
Below the gallows-tree.
Oh, what is death but parting breath ?—
On mony a bloody plain
I've dar'd his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!
Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring to me my sword;
And there's no a man in all Scotland
But I'll brave him at a word.
I've lived a life of sturt and strife;
I die by treacherie:
It burns my heart I must depart,
And not avenged be.
Now farewell light-thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!
May coward shame distain his name,
The wretch that dares not die!
ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LARK.
TUNE "Where 'll bonnie Ann lie?" or "Locherroch side."
OH stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay!
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,-
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wad touch her heart
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join'd
Sic notes o' woe could wauken!
Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief and dark despair;
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair,
Or my poor heart is broken!
BLITHE HA'E I BEEN ON YON HILL.
TUNE-" Liggeram Cosh."
BLITHE ha'e I been on yon hill,
As the lambs before me;
Careless ilka thought an' free,
As the breeze flew o'er me:
Now nae longer sport an' play,
Mirth or sang can please me:
Lesley is sae fair an' coy,
Care an' anguish seize me.
Heavy, heavy is the task,
Hopeless love declaring;
Trembling, I dow nocht but glow'r,
Sighing, dumb, despairing!
If she winna ease the thraws
In my bosom swelling,
Underneath the grass-green sod
Soon maun be my dwelling.
TUNE-"There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame."
Now in her green mantle blithe nature arrays,
An' listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
But to me it's delightless-my Nannie's awa'.
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