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Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,

And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest ! And thou'rt the angel that never can alter, Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.

ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LARK.
TUNE-WHERE'LL BONIE ANN LIE.'

O 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' wae 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!

HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS.

TUNE JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.'

How cruel are the parents
Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
Poor woman sacrifice.

Meanwhile the hapless daughter
Has but a choice of strife;
To shun a tyrant father's hate,
Becomes a wretched wife.

The ravening hawk pursuing,
The trembling dove thus flies,
To shun impelling ruin
Awhile her pinions tries;
Till of escape despairing,
No shelter or retreat,

She trusts the ruthless falconer,
And drops beneath his feet.

MARK YONDER POMP.

TUNE-DEIL TAK THE WARS.'

MARK yonder pomp of costly fashion,
Round the wealthy, titled bride:
But when compar'd with real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride.
What are the showy treasures?

What are the noisy pleasures?

The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art:
The polish'd jewel's blaze

May draw the wond'ring gaze,

And courtly grandeur bright

The fancy may delight,

But never, never can come near the heart. But did you see my dearest Chloris,

In simplicity's array;

Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is,
Shrinking from the gaze of day.

O then, the heart alarming,

And all resistless charming,

In Love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul!

Ambition would disown

The world's imperial crown ;

Even Avarice would deny

His worshipp'd deity,

And feel thro' every vein love's raptures roll.

I SEE A FORM, I SEE A FACE.

TUNE-THIS IS NO MY AIN HOUSE.'

O THIS is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be;
O weel ken I my ain lassie,
Kind love is in her ee.

I see a form, I see a face,

Ye weel may wi' the fairest place :
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that's in her ee.
O this is no, &c.

She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall;
And aye it charms my very saul,
The kind love that's in her ee.
O this is no, &c.

A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
To steal a blink, by a' unseen;
But gleg as light are lovers' een,
When kind love is in the ee.
O this is no, &c.

It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learned clerks;
But weel the watching lover marks
The kind love that's in her ee.
O this is no, &c.

O BONIE WAS YON ROSY BRIER.

TUNE-'I WISH MY LOVE WAS IN A MIRE.'

O BONIE was yon rosy brier,

That blooms sae fair frae haunt o' man; And bonie she, and ah, how dear! It shaded frae the e'enin sun.

Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green;
But purer was the lover's vow

They witness'd in their shade yestreen.

All in its rude and prickly bower,

That crimson rose, how sweet and fair! But love is far a sweeter flower Amid life's thorny path o' care.

The pathless wild, and wimpling burn,
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;
And I, the world, nor wish, nor scorn,
Its joys and griefs alike resign.

FORLORN, MY LOVE.

TUNE-LET ME IN THIS AE NIGHT.'

FORLORN, my love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe
At which I most repine, love.

CHORUS.

O wert thou, love, but near me,
But near, near, near me ;

How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, love.

Around me scowls a wintry sky,
That blasts each bud of hope and joy;
And shelter, shade, nor home have I,
Save in those arms of thine, love.
O wert, &c.

Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
To poison fortune's ruthless dart-
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love.
O wert, &c.

But dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O let me think we yet shall meet !
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, love.
O wert, &c.

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