Beneath a green shade.
[This song is generally called "The Braes of Ballendine," because it is sung to the tune which goes by that name. The tune is ascribed to Oswald, but though it appears in his Pocket Companion, it has not the usual asterism affixed to his own compositions. The words are by Dr. Blacklock. Ferdinando Tenducci, the celebrated Italian singer of Scottish songs, who taught music at Edinburgh for many years during the latter half of the last century, used to sing this song publicly with great effect.—The Braes of Ballendine are gentle elevations which rise from the Carse of Gowrie towards the Sidlaw Hills.]
Beneath a green shade, a lovely young swain
Ae evening reclined to discover his pain;
So sad, yet so sweetly, he warbled his woe,
The winds ceased to breathe, and the fountain to flow;
Rude winds wi' compassion could hear him complain,
Yet Chloe, less gentle, was deaf to his strain.
How happy, he cried, my moments once flew,
Ere Chloe's bright charms first flash'd in my view!
Those eyes then wi' pleasure the dawn could survey;
Nor smiled the fair morning mair cheerful than they.
Now scenes of distress please only my sight;
I'm tortured in pleasure, and languish in light.
Through changes in vain relief I pursue,
All, all but conspire my griefs to renew;
From sunshine to zephyrs and shades we repair—
To sunshine we fly from too piercing an air;
But love's ardent fire burns always the same,
No winter can cool it, no summer inflame.
But see the pale moon, all clouded, retires;
The breezes grow cool, not Strephon's desires:
I fly from the dangers of tempest and wind,
Yet nourish the madness that preys on my mind.
Ah, wretch! how can life be worthy thy care?
To lengthen its moments, but lengthens despair.
The Woods o' Castle Doune.
[James Macdonald.—Here first printed.]
Ye bonnie woods o' castle Doune, ye knowes and fairy braes,
An' a' ye glens an' leafy glades—the haunt of happy days;
The licht o' heaven disna shine sae sweetly on me now
As when I saw ye lang lang syne, amang the silver dew.
Ye summer winds that sang sae sweet alang the broomy hills,
Ye wee bit flowers that smiled sae glad beside the dancing rills,
Your sang an' smile they canna wile the wrinkles aff my brow,
For a' my greenerie o' life is brown an' faded now.
