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SCOTTISH SONGS.
187

"Tell na me o' storm or flood,
Or sheep a' smoor'd ayont the hill,
For Willie's sake, I Willie lo'ed;
Though poor, ye are my Willie still"—

"Ye canna tho'e the wind or rain,
Or wander, friendless, far frae hame;
Cheer, cheer your heart, some other swain
Will soon blot out lost Willie's name"-

"I'll tak' my bundle in my hand,
An' wipe the dew-drop frae my e'e,
I'll wander wi' ye ower the land,
I'll venture wi' ye ower the sea"—

"Forgi'e me, love; 'twas all a snare;
My flocks are safe; we needna part;
I'd forfeit them, and ten times mair,
To clasp thes, Mary, to my heart."

"How could ye wi' my feelings sport,
Or doubt a heart sae warm and true?
I maist could wish ye mischief for't,
But canna wish ought ill to you."




The Maid's Remonstrance.

[Thomas Campbell.]

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a love-torn heart pursuing,-
Read you not the wrongs you're doing,
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing,
Wed—or cease to woo.

Rivals banish'd, bosoms plighted,
Still our days are disunited,
Now the lamp of hope is lighted,
Now half quench'd appears,
Damp'd, and wavering, and benighted,
'Midst my sighs and tears.

Charms you call your dearest blessing,
Lips that thrill at your caressing,
Eyes a mutual soul confessing,
Soon you'll make them grow
Dim, and worthless your possessing,
Not with age but woe.




Taste life's glad moments.

[This popular song is said to be a translation from the German, by Sir Alexander Boswell, Bart. of Auchinleck, author of "Jenny's Bawbee," &c.]

Taste life's glad moments,
Whilst the wasting taper glows;
Pluck, ere it withers,
The quickly fading rose.

Man blindly follows grief and care,
He seeks for thorns, and finds his share,
Whilst violets to the passing air
Unheeded shed their blossoms.
Taste life's, &c.

When tim'rous nature veils her form,
And rolling thunder spreads alarm,
Then, ah! how sweet, when lull'd the storm,
The sun smiles forth at even.
Taste life's, &c.

How spleen and envy anxious flies,
And meek content, in humble guise,
Improves the shrub, a tree shall rise,
Which golden fruits shall yield him.
Taste life's, &c.

Who fosters faith in upright breast,
And freely gives to the distress'd,
There sweet contentment builds her nest,
And flutters round his bosom.
Taste life's, &c.

And when life's path grows dark and strait
And pressing ills on ills await,
Then friendship, sorrow to abate,
The helping hand will offer.
Taste life's, &c.

She dries his tears, she strews his way,
E'en to the grave, with flow'rets gay;
Turns night to morn, and morn to day,
And pleasure still increases.
Taste life's, &c.

Of life she is the fairest band,
Joins brothers truly hand in hand;
Thus onward to a better land
Man journeys light and cheerly.
Taste life's, &c.