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My kind refpects do not neglect,
Altho' my wealth or state be small;
With a melting heart, and a mournful eye,
I beg the Lord be wi' you all.

My loving friends, I kifs your hands,
For time invites me now to move;
On your poor fervant lay commands,
Who is ambitious of your love.
He-whose pow'r and might, both day and night,
Governs the depths, makes rain to fall,
To fun and moon gives course of light,
Direct, protect, defend you all.

I do protest, within my breast,
Your memory I'll not neglect;
On that record I'll lay arreít,
No change fhall ever alter it.
All I defire of earthly blifs,

Is to be freed from guilt or thrall;
I hope my God will grant me this:
Good night, and God be wi' you all.

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'HE fun was fleeping in the main,
Bright Cynthia filver'd all the plain,

When Colin turn'd his team to rest,
And fought the lafs he lov'd the best.
As tow'rd her cot he jogg'd along,
Her name was frequent in his fong;
But when his errand Dolly knew,
She vow'd fhe'd fomething else to do.

He fwore he did efteem her more
Than any maid he'd feen before,
In tender fighs protesting, he
Would conftant as the turtle be;

Talk'd much of death, shou'd she refuse,
And us'd fuch arts as lovers use:
'Tis fine, fays Doll, if 'tis but true,
But now, I've fomething else to do.

Her pride then Colin thus addrest,
Forgive me, Doll, I did but jeft;
To her that's kind I'll conftant prove;
But, truft me, I'll ne'er die for love.
Tho' firft fhe did his courtship scorn,
Now Doll began to court in turn ;
Dear Colin, I was jefting too,
Step in, I've nothing else to do.

***

SONG CLIV.

SHEPHERD'S COMPLAINT.

YLive ftrangers to forrow and care,

E fhepherds, who, bleft in your loves,

O pity a brother, that proves

The heart-breaking pangs of defpair.
What boots it my heifers and ewes
All thriving and pregnant I find?
Poor bleffings, poor comforts are these,
Since Peggy is falfe and unkind.

Bear witnefs, each fountain and vale,
Bear witness, each garden and grove,
How oft fhe has heard my fond tale,
And fmil'd on the fuit of my love.
But, oh cruel change that I find,
The gentle is now grown fevere,
More cold than the north's chilling wind,
That blafts the young buds of the year.

Range wildly, my flocks and my herds;
Begone from your mafter, poor Tray;
My pipe fhall no more wake the birds,
I'll break it and fling it away.

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Some defart all barren and blake,

Shall shield me from every eye; There, Peggy, I'll weep for thy fake, I'll weep, cruel maid, and I'll die.

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SONG

CLV.

IN

HIGHLAND MARCH.

N the garb of old Gaul, wi' the fire of old Rome, From the heath-cover'd mountains of Scotia we come, Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain, But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain.

Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws, That, like our old ancestors, we ftand by Freedom's cause ;

We'll bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and applause,

And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws.

No effeminate cuftoms our finews unbrace,
No luxurious tables enervate our race;

Our loud-founding pipe bears the true martial strain,
So do we the old Scottish valour retain.

Such our love, &c.

We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale,
Are swift as the roe which the hind doth affail:
As the full moon in autumn our shields do appear,
Minerva would dread to encounter our spear.

Such our love, &c.

As a ftorm in the ocean when Boreas blows,

So are we enrag'd when we rufsh on our foes;
We fons of the mountains, tremendous as rocks,

Dafh the force of our foes with our thundering ftrokes.
Such our love, &c.

M

Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old France,
In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance;
But when our claymores they faw us produce,
Their courage did fail, and they fu'd for a truce.
Such our love, &c.

In our realm may the fury of faction long cease,
May our councils be wife, and our commerce increase,
And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find,

That our friends ftill prove true, and our beauties prove

kind,

Then we'll defend our liberty, our country, and our

laws,

And teach our late pofterity to fight in Freedom's cause, That they, like our ancestors bold, for honour and ap

plaufe,

May defy the French and Spaniards to alter our laws.

SONG

CLVI.

DE'IL TAK THE WARS.

E'IL tak the wars that hurried Billy from me,

DE

Who to love me just had fworn;

They made him captain fure to undo me;
Woe's me! he'll ne'er return.

A thousand loons abroad will fight him,

He from thousands ne'er will run :

Day and night I did invite him,

To stay at home from fword and gun.

I us'd alluring graces,

With muckle kind embraces,

Now fighing, then crying, tears dropping fall;
And had he my foft arms

Preferr'd to war's alarms,

By love grown mad, without the man of God,
I fear in my fit I had granted all.

I wafh'd, and patch'd, to make me look provoking;
Snares that they told me would catch the men,
And on my head a huge commode fat poking,
Which made me fhew as tall again;

For a new gown too I paid muckle money,
Which with golden flow'rs did shine;
My love well might think me gay and bonny,
No Scots lafs was e'er fo fine.

My petticoat I fpotted, Fringe too with thread I knotted, Lace-fhoes, and filk-hofe garter'd full o'er knee; But, oh! the fatal thought,

To Billy thefe are nought;

Who rode to towns, and rifled with dragoons, When he, filly loon, might have plunder'd me.

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JAMIE GAY.

AS Jamie gay gang'd blithe his way

Along the river Tweed.

A bonny lafs, as e'er was seen,
Came tripping o'er the mead.
The hearty fwain, untaught to feign,
The buxom nymph furvey'd,
And, full of glee as lad could be,
Bespoke the pretty maid.

Dear laffie tell, why by thine fell
Thou haft'ly wand'reft here.

My ewes, the cry'd, are straying wide,
Canft tell me, laddie, where?
To town I hy, he made reply,
Some meikle fport to fee;

But thou'rt fo fweet, fo trim, and neat,
I'll feek the ewes with thee.

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