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THE POEMS OF BURNS.
DAINTY DAVIE.
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green spreading bowers;
And now comes in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.
To deck her gay, green spreading bowers;
And now comes in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.
CHORUS.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear dainty Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear dainty Davie.
The crystal waters round us fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A wandering wi' my Davie.
Meet me, &c.
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A wandering wi' my Davie.
Meet me, &c.
When purple morning starts the hare,
To steal upon her early fare,
Then through the dews I will repair,
To meet my faithfu' Davie.
Meet me, &c.
To steal upon her early fare,
Then through the dews I will repair,
To meet my faithfu' Davie.
Meet me, &c.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
I flee to his arms I lo'e best,
And that's my ain dear Davie.
Meet me, &c.
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
I flee to his arms I lo'e best,
And that's my ain dear Davie.
Meet me, &c.
CLARINDA.
Clarinda, mistress of my soul,
The measur'd time is run!
The wretch beneath the dreary pole
So marks his latest sun.
The measur'd time is run!
The wretch beneath the dreary pole
So marks his latest sun.
To what dark cave of frozen night
Shall poor Sylvander hie;
Depriv'd of thee, his life and light,
The sun of all his joy?
Shall poor Sylvander hie;
Depriv'd of thee, his life and light,
The sun of all his joy?
We part - but by these precious drops
That fill thy lovely eyes!
No other light shall guide my steps
Till thy bright beams arise.
That fill thy lovely eyes!
No other light shall guide my steps
Till thy bright beams arise.
She, the fair sun of all her sex,
Has blest my glorious day;
And shall a glimmering planet fix
My worship to its ray?
Has blest my glorious day;
And shall a glimmering planet fix
My worship to its ray?
BANNOCKBURN.
ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.
TUNE—'HEY TUTTIE TAITIE.'
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victorie.
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victorie.
Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power—
Edward! chains and slaverie!
See the front o' battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power—
Edward! chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Traitor! coward! turn and flee!
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Traitor! coward! turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's King and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa'?
Caledonian! on wi' me!
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa'?
Caledonian! on wi' me!
By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall—they shall be free!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall—they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!
