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Kiss me softly and speak to me low,

Envy too has a watchful ear :
What if Envy should chance to hear ?

Kiss me, dear !
Kiss me softly and speak to me low.


Kiss me softly and speak to me low :

Trust me, darling, the time is near
When lovers may love with never a fear, –

Kiss me, dear!
Kiss me softly and speak to me low.



“I saw him kiss your cheek!"

"'Tis true." “O Modesty !” – “'T was strictly kept : He thought me asleep ; at least, I knew

He thought I thought he thought I slept."



1. AMONG thy fancies tell me this :

What is the thing we call a kiss ?
2. I shall resolve ye what it is :

It is a creature born and bred
Between the lips all cherry red,

By love and warm desires fed ;
Chor. And makes more soft the bridal bed.

It is an active flame, that flies
First to the babies of the eyes,

And charms them there with lullabies ; Chor. And stills the bride too when she cries.

Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,
It frisks and flies, now here, now there ;

'Tis now far off, and then 't is near ; Chor. And here, and there, and everywhere.

1. Has it a speaking virtue? – 2. Yes.
1. How speaks it, say ?-2. Do you but this:

Part your joined lips, — then speaks your

kiss ;

Chor. And this love's sweetest language is.

1. Has it a body ? — 2. Ay, and wings,

With thousand rare encolorings ;

And as it flies it gently sings ;
Chor. Love honey yields, but never stings.


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O, DINNA ask me gin I lo'e ye :

Troth, I daurna tell ! Dinna ask me gin I lo'e ye,

Ask it o' yoursel'.

As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping

With a pitcherof milk, from the fair of Coleraine, When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it

tumbled, And all the sweet buttermilk watered the plain. “O, what shall I do now ? -— 't was looking at you

now! Sure, sure, sucha pitcher I 'll ne'er meet again ! 'T was the pride of my dairy : 0 Barney M'Cleary!

You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine." I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her,

That such a misfortune should give hersuch pain. A kiss then I gave her; and ere did leave her,

She vowed forsuch pleasure she'd break it again. ’T was hay-making season - I can't tell the rea

0, dinna look sae sair at me,

For weel ye ken me true ; 0, gin ye look sae sair at me,

I daurna look at you.

When ye gang to yon braw braw town,

And bonnier lassies see, 0, dinna, Jamie, look at them,

Lest ye should mind na me.


For I could never bide the less

That ye'd lo'e mair than me And 0, I'm sure my heart wad brak,

Gin ye'd prove fause to mc1

Misfortunes will never come single, 't is plain ; For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine.



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The moonshine stealing o'er the scene Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy,

My own dear Genevieve !

She leaned against the arméd man, The statue of the armed knight; She stood and listened to my lay,

Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing

The songs that make her grieve.

I played a soft and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story, -
An old rude song, that suited well

That ruin wild and hoary.

“You have heard," said a youth to his sweet

heart, who stood,
While he sat on a corn-sheaf, at daylight's

"You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of

wood ? I wish that that Danish boy's whistle were mine." “And what would you do with it !- tell me,”

she said, While an arch smile played over her beautiful

face. "I would blow it,” he answered ; "and then my

fair maid Would fly to my side, and would here take her

place." “Is that all you wish it for?- That may be yours

Without any magic," the fair maiden cried : “A favor so slight one's good nature secures" ;

And she playfully seated herself by his side. “I would blow it again," said the youth, "and

the charm Would work so, that not even Modesty's check Would be able to keep from my neck your fine arm": She smiled, - and she laid her fine arm round

his neck. “Yet once more would I blow, and the music

divine Would bring me the third time an exquisite

bliss : You would lay your fair cheek to this brown one

of mine, And your lips, stealing past it, would give me

a kiss."

She listened with a flitting blush,
With downoast eyes and modest grace;
For well she knew, I could not choose

But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that for ten long years he wooed

The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined : and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love

Interpreted my own.

She listened with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed

Too fondly on her face,

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And how she wept, and clasped his knees ;
And how she tended him in vain;
And ever strove to expiate

The scorn that crazed his brain ;

And that she nursed him in a cave,
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest-leaves

A dying man he lay;
His dying words — but when I reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My faltering voice and pausing harp

Disturbed her soul with pity!
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve ;
The music and the doleful tale,

The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued,

Subdued and cherished long.

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'T is to woo a bonnie lassie
When the kye come hame.

When the kye come hame,
When the kye come hame,
'T'ween the gloamin' an' the mirk,

When the kye come hame. 'Tis not beneath the burgonet,

Nor yet beneath the crown ; 'Tis not on couch o' velvet,

Nor yet in bed o’ down : 'T is beneath the spreading birk,

In the glen without the name, Wi' a bonnie bonnie lassie,

When the kye come hame. There the blackbird bigs his nest,

For the mate he lo'es to see, And on the tapmost bough

0, a happy bird is he! There he pours his melting ditty,

And love is a' the theme ; And he 'll woo his bonnie lassie,

When the kye come hame. When the blewart bears a pearl,

And the daisy turns a pea,
And the bonnie lucken gowan

Has fauldit up his ee,
Then the lavrock, frae the blue lift,

Draps down and thinks nae shame
To woo his bonnie lassie,

When the kye come hame. See yonder pawky shepherd,

That lingers on the hill : His yowes are in the fauld,

And his lambs are lying still ; Yet he downa gang to bed,

For his heart is in a flame, To meet his bonnie lassie

When the kye come hame.

When the little wee bit heart

Rises high in the breast,
And the little wee bit starn

Rises red in the east,
O, there's a joy sae dear

That the heart can hardly frame!
Wi' a bonnie bonnie lassie,

When the kye come hame.

Then since all Nature joins

In this love without alloy, O, wha wad prove a traitor

To Nature's dearest joy? Or wha wad choose a crown,

Wi' its perils an' its fame, And miss his bonnie lassie, When the kye come hame?


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