So may ye hae auld stanes in store,
Igo, and ago,
The very stanes that Adam bore.
Iram, coram, dago.
So may ye get in glad possession
Igo, and ago,
The coins o' Satan's coronation!
Iram, coram, dago.
A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK.
A ROSE-BUD by my early walk,
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.
Within the bush, her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest,
The dew sat chilly on her breast
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awake the early morning.
So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shalt sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning.
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning.
O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS' HILL!
O, WERE I on Parnassus' hill,
Or had of Helicon my fill!
That I might catch poetic skill,
To sing how dear I love thee.
But Nith maun be my Muse's well,
My Muse maun be thy bonnie sel;
On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell,
And write how dear I love thee.
Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day,
I could na sing, I could na say,
How much, how dear, I love thee.
I see thee dancing o'er the green,
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean,
Thy tempting looks, thy roguish een--
By Heaven and earth I love thee!
By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame
And aye I muse and sing thy name-
I only live to love thee.
Tho' I were doom'd to wander on,
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
Til my last weary sand was run;
Till then-and then I'd love thee.
SLEEP'ST THOU, OR WAK'ST THOU.
SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
Now thro' the leafy woods,
And by the reeking floods,
Wild Nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;
The lintwhite in his bower
Chants o'er the breathing flower;
The lav'rock to the sky
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
Phoebus, gilding the brow o' morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladdening and adorning ;
Such to me my lovely maid.
When absent frae my fair,
The murky shades o' care
With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky:
But when, in beauty's light,
She meets my ravish'd sight,
When thro' my very heart
Her beaming glories dart-
"Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.
O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen, O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has been ; But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood sae green, And a' to pu' a Posie to my ain dear May.
The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,
And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear,
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer :
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May.
I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou;
The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue,
And a to be a Posie to my ain dear May.
The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there;
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air,
And a to be a Posie to my ain dear May.
The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey,
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day,
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away;
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May.
The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near,
And the diamond drops o' dew shall be her een sae clear:
The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear,
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May.
I'll tie the Posie round wi' the silken band o' luve,
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above,
That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove,
And this will be a Posie to my ain dear May.
WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie;
Willie was a wabster guid,
Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony body.
He had a wife was dour and din,
O Tinkler Madgie was her mither;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her!
She has an ee, she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very colour:
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
A clapper tongue wad deave a miller;
A whiskin beard about her mou,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither; Sic a wife, &c.
She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shinn'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter:
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o' that upon her shouther;
Sic a wife, &c.
Auld baudrons by the ingle sits,
An' wi' her loof her face a-washin;
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion;
Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan-water;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her!
LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE?
LOUIS, what reck I by thee,
Or Geordie on his ocean?
Dyvour, beggar loons to me,-
I reign in Jeanie's bosom !
Let her crown my love her law,
And in her breast enthrone me:
Kings and nations, swith awa!
Reif randies, I disown ye!
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