Billeder på siden

In many a way, and vain essay,

I courted fortune's favour, 0;
Some cause unseen still stept between,

To frustrate each endeavour, O:
Sometimes by foes I was o'erpowered ;

Sometimes by friends forsaken, O; And when my hope was at the top,

I still was worst mistaken, O.

Then sore harassed, and tired at last,

With Fortune's vain delusion, O,
I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams,

And came to this conclusion, O:
The past was bad, and the future hid;

It's good or ill untried, O;
But the present hour was in my power,

And so I would enjoy it, O.

No help, nor hope, nor view had I,

person to befriend me, 0;
So I must toil, and sweat, and broil,

And labour to sustain me, O. To plough and sow,


mow, My father bred me early, 0; For one, he said, to labour bred,

Was a match for fortune fairly, 0.

to reap

Thus, all obscure, unknown and poor,

Through life I'm doomed to wander, 0, Till down my weary bones I lay,

In everlasting slumber, O.
No view nor care, but shun whate'er

Might breed me pain or sorrow, O;
I live to-day as well 's I may,

Regardless of to-morrow, O.

But cheerful still, I am as well

As a monarch in a palace, O, Though Fortune's frown still hunts me down

With all her wonted malice, O; I make indeed my daily bread,

But ne'er can make it farther, 0; But, as daily bread is all I need,

I do not much regard her, O. When sometimes by my labour

I earn a little money, 0, Some unforeseen misfortune

Comes gen’rally upon me, 0;
Mischance, mistake, or by neglect,

Or my good-natured folly, O:
But come what will, I've sworn it still,

I'll ne'er be melancholy, O.
All you who follow wealth and power

With unremitting ardour, O,
The more in this you look for bliss,

You leave your view the farther, O.
Had you the wealth Potosi boasts,

Or nations to adore you, O,
A cheerful honest-hearted clown

I will prefer before you, 0.

It was upon a Lammas night,

When corn rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light

I held awa to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed,

Till 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed

To see me through the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,

The moon was shining clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,

Amang the rigs o' barley!
I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I loved her most sincerely;

1 I kissed her owre and owre again

Amang the rigs o' barley.
I locked her in my fond embrace;

Her heart was beating rarely ;
My blessings on that happy place

Amang the rigs o' barley.
But by the moon and stars so bright,

That shone that hour so clearly !
She aye shall Lless that happy night

Amang the rigs o' barley.
I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear,

I hae been merry drinkin';
I hae been joyfu' gatherin' gear;

I hae been happy thinkin':
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,

Though three times doubled fairly, That happy night was worth them a' Amang the rigs o' barley.

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

An' corn rigs are bonnie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,

Amang the rigs wi" Annie.
ALTHOUGH my bed were in yon muir,

Amang the heather, in my plaidie, Yet happy, happy would I be,

Had I my dear Montgomery's Peggy.

When o'er the hill beat sturly storms,

And winter nights were dark and rainy, I'd seek some dell, and in my arms

I'd shelter dear Montgomery's Peggy. Were I a baron, proud and high,

And horse and servants waiting ready, Then a' 'twad gi'e o' joy to me,

The sharin' 't wi' Montgomery's Peggy.

THE MAUCHLINE LADY. When first I came to Stewart Kyle,

My mind it was na steady; Where'er I gaed, where'er I rade,

A mistress still I had aye.
But when I came roun' by Mauchline town,

Not dreadin' ony body,
My heart was caught before I thought,

And by a Mauchline lady.


Nae gentle dames, though e'er sae fair,
Shall ever be my muse's care:
Their titles a' are empty show;
Gi'e me my Highland Lassie, O.

Within the glen sae bushy, 0,
Aboon the plains sae rushy, O,
I set me down wi' right good will,

To sing my Highland Lassie, 0.
Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine;
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland Lassie, O.

But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea ;
But while my crimson currents flow,
I'll love my Highland Lassie, O.

Although through foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change,
For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
My faithful Highland Lassie, O.

For her I 'll dare the billows' roar,
For her I'll trace the distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland Lassie, 0.

She has my heart, she has my hand,
By sacred truth and honour's band;
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low
I'm thine, my Highland Lassie, O!

Fareweel the glen sae bushy, O!
Fareweel the piain sae rushy, O!
To other lands I now must go,
To sing my Highland Lassie, O!

[ocr errors]

Now westlin' winds and slaughtering guns

Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
The moorcock springs, on whirring wings,

Amang the blooming heather:
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,

Delights the weary farmer;
And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night

To muse upon my charmer.

« ForrigeFortsæt »