The Young Highland Rover

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,
And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
When first I felt their pow'r!
The tyrant Death with grim control
May seize my fleeting breath;
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.

L

The Young Highland Rover

TUNE-" Morag."

OUD blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover;

Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young Highland Rover Far wanders nations over. Where'er he go, where'er he stray, May Heaven be his warden : Return him safe to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle Gordon!

The trees now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,

The birdies dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blythely singing,
And every flower be springing.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,
When by his mighty warden

My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle Gordon.

Clarinda, Mistress of my Soul

LARINDA, mistress of my soul,
The measur'd time is run!

The wretch beneath the dreary Pole
So marks his latest sun.

To what dark cave of frozen night
Shall poor Sylvander hie;

Depriv'd of thee, his life and light,
The sun of all his joy?

We part—but by these precious drops
That fill thy lovely eyes!

No other light shall guide my steps
Till thy bright beams arise.

She, the fair sun of all her sex,
Has blest my glorious day:
And shall a glimmering planet fix

My worship to its ray?

Μ'

To the Weavers gin ye go

Y heart was ance as blythe and free
As simmer days were lang,

But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad

Has gart me change my sang.

CHORUS.

To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids,
To the weavers gin ye go;

I rede you right gang ne'er at night,
To the weavers gin ye go.

My mither sent me to the town,

To warp a plaiden wab;

But the weary, weary warpin' o't

Has gart me sigh and sab.

To the weavers, etc.

MacPherson's Farewell

A bonnie westlin weaver lad
Sat working at his loom;
He took my heart as wi' a net,
In every knot and thrum.

To the weavers, etc.

I sat beside my warpin'-wheel,
And aye I ca'd it roun';

But every shot and every knock,

My heart it gae a stoun.

To the weavers, etc.

The moon was sinking in the west
Wi' visage pale and wan,
As my bonnie westlin weaver lad
Convoy'd me through the glen.
To the weavers, etc.

But what was said, or what was done,
Shame fa' me gin I tell;

But oh! I fear the kintra soon

Will ken as weel's mysel.

To the weavers, etc.

MacPherson's Farewell

F

`AREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong,

The wretch's destinie:

MacPherson's time will not be long

On yonder gallows-tree.

CHORUS.

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 monie a bloody plain

I've dar'd his face, and in this place

I scorn him yet again!

Sae rantingly, etc.

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.

Sae rantingly, etc.

I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;
I die by treacherie:

It burns my heart I must depart

And not avengèd be.

Sae rantingly, etc.

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright, And all beneath the sky!

May coward shame distain his name,

The wretch that dare not die!

Sae rantingly, etc.

My Hoggie

TUNE-"What will I do gin my Hoggie die?"

7HAT will I do gin my hoggie die?

WHA

My joy, my pride, my hoggie!

My only beast, I had na mae,

And vow but I was vogie!

The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld,
Me and my faithfu' doggie;

We heard nought but the roaring linn,
Amang the braes sae scroggie;

Raving Winds around her Blowing

But the howlet cried frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,

The tod replied upon the hill,
I trembled for my hoggie.

When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggie;

An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has kill'd my hoggie.

R

Raving Winds around her Blowing

TUNE-"M'Gregor of Ruara's Lament."

AVING winds around her blowing, Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing, By a river hoarsely roaring,

Isabella stray'd deploring:

"Farewell, hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure;
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!

"O'er the past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless future pondering;
Chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to misery most distressing,
O, how gladly I'd resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee!"