1711.

But 'gainst my batteries if I find
Thou kick, or vex me sore,

As that thou set me up a blind,
I'll never love thee more.

And in the empire of thine heart,
Where I should solely be,

If others do pretend à part,
Or dare to vie with me,

Or if committees thou erect,

And go on such a score,

I'll laugh and sing at thy neglect,
And never love thee more.

But if thou wilt prove faithful, then,
And constant of thy word,
I'll make thee glorious by my pen,
And famous by my sword;

I'll serve thee in such noble ways
Was never heard before,

I'll crown and deck thee all with bays,
And love thee more and more.

James Graham, Marquess of Montrose.

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SONG

My silks and fine array,

My smiles and languish'd air,

By Love are driven away;
And mournful lean Despair

Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Such end true lovers have.

His face is fair as heaven
When springing buds unfold:
O why to him was 't given,
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is Love's all-worshipp'd to
Where all Love's pilgrims come.

Bring me an axe and spade,

Bring me a winding-sheet;
When I my grave have made,
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay:
True love doth pass away!

1783.

William Bl

THE BANKS OF DOON

YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!

Thou 'll break my heart, thou bonnie That sings upon the bough;

Thou minds me o' the happy days

When my fause Luve was true.

Thou 'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird

That sings beside thy mate; For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its love;

And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Frae aff its thorny tree;

And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi' me.

1792.

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16

20

Robert Burns.

MARY MORISON

O MARY, at thy window be!

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor:
How blythely wad I bide the stour,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison!

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',

To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard nor saw:

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Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
"Ye arena Mary Morison."

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wiltna gie,
At least be pity to me shown;
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

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24

O, SAW YE BONNIE LESLEY?

O, SAW ye bonnie Lesley,

As she gaed o'er the border?

She 's gane, like Alexander,

To spread her conquests farther.

To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever;
For nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee;

Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

The hearts o' men adore thee.

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The deil he could na scaith thee,

Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonnie face,
And say, "I canna wrang thee!"

The Powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha' na steer thee;
Thou 'rt like themsel' sae lovely
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley,

Return to Caledonie !!!

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20

O MY LUVE 'S LIKE A RED, RED

ROSE.

O MY Luve 's like a red, red rose!
That 's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve 's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:

"

And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,'
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;

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