My Chloris, mark how Green the Groves. 191

Mark the winds and mark the skies;

Ocean's ebb and ocean's flow:
Sun and moon but set to rise,

Round and round the seasons go.

Why then ask of silly man
To oppose great Nature's plan?
We'll be constant while we can-

You can be no more, you know.

MY CHLORIS, MARK HOW GREEN THE

GROVES. TUNE—“My lodging is on the cold ground.” [“ On my visit, the other day, to my fair Chloris (Jean Lorimer), she suggested an idea, which I, on my return from the visit, wrought into the following song."-Burns to Thomson.] My Chloris, mark how green the

groves,
The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,

And wave thy flaxen hair.
The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,

And o'er the cottage sings:
For nature smiles as sweet, I

ween,
To shepherds as to kings.

Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string

In lordly lighted ha’:

The shepherd stops his simple reed,

Blithe in the birken shaw.
The princely revel may survey

Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours

Beneath the milk-white thorn ?

The shepherd in the flowery glen

In shepherd's phrase will woo: The courtier tells a finer tale,

But is his heart as true?
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck

That spotless breast o'thine:
The courtier's gems may witness love,

But 'tis na love like mine.

IT WAS THE CHARMING MONTH OF

MAY.

TUNE –“Dainty Davie.”

[Altered from an old English song.)

It was the charming month of May,
When all the flowers were fresh and gay,
One morning by the break of day,

The youthful, charming Chloe,

Now Spring has clad the Groves in Green. 193

From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes,

The youthful, charming Chloe.

CHORUS.

Lovely was she by the dawn,

Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,

The youthful, charming Chloe.

The feather'd people you might see
Perch'd all around on every tree,
In notes of sweetest melody,

They hail the charming Chloe;
Till, painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Out-rivall’d by the radiant eyes

Of youthful, charming Chloe.

NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE GROVE

IN GREEN.

TUNE—“The hopeless lover.”
Now spring has clad the grove in green,

And strew'd the lea wi’ flowers :
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen

Rejoice in fostering showers;

When ilka thing in nature join

Their sorrows to forego,
Oh, why thus all alone are mine

The weary steps of woe !

The trout within yon wimplin'burn

Glides swift-a silver dart;
An' safe beneath the shady thorn

Defies the angler's art.
My life was ance that careless stream,

That wanton trout was I; But love, wi' unrelenting beam,

Has scorch'd my fountains dry.

The little flow'ret's peaceful lot,

In yonder cliff that grows, Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,

Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine; till love has o'er me past,

An' blighted a' my bloom,
An' now beneath the with’ring blast

My youth an' joy consume.

The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs,

An' climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blithe her dewy wings

In morning's rosy eye.
As little reck'd I sorrow's power,

Until the flowery snare

Philly and Willy.

195

O’ witching love, in luckless hour,

Made me the thrall o' care.

Oh, had my fate been Greenland snows,

Or Afric's burning zone,
Wi' man an’ nature leagu'd my foes,

So Peggy ne'er I'd known !
The wretch whase doom is “hope nae mair,"

What tongue his woes can tell ! Within whase bosom, save despair,

Nae kinder spirits dwell.

PHILLY AND WILLY.

TUNE-"The sow's tail.

HE.

O Philly, happy be that day
When, roving through the gather'd hay,
My youthfu' heart was stown away,

An' by thy charms, my Philly.

SHE.

O Willy, aye I bless the grove

I
Where first I own'd my maiden love,
Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above

To be my ain dear Willy.