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With success crown'd, I'll not envy The folks who dwell above the sky; When Mary Scott's become my marrow, We'll make a paradise in Yarrow.
"WAS summer and the day was fair,
Resolv'd a while to fly from care, Beguiling thought, forgetting forrow, I wander o'er the braes of Yarrow; Till then despising beauty's power, I kept my heart my own secure, But Cupid's art did there deceive me, And Mary's charms do now enllave me.
Will cruel love no bribe receive ? No ransom take for Mary's slave? Her frowns of rest and hope deprive me, Her lovely smiles like light revive me. No bondage may with mine compare Since first I saw this charming fair, This beauteous flower, this rose of Yarrow In nature's garden has no marrow.
Had I of Heaven but one request, I'd ask to lie in Mary's breast; There would I live or die with pleasure, Nor spare this world one moment's leisure : Despising Kings and all that's great, I'd smile at courts and courtiers fate; My joy complete on such a marrow, I'd dwell with her, and live on Yarrow.
But tho' such bliss I ne'er should gain, Contented still I'll wear my chain, In hopes my faithful heart may move her, For, leaving life, I'll always love her.
What doubts distract a lover's mind ?
l And she shall yet become my marrow, The lovely beauteous rose of Yarrow.
EAR Tom, this brown jug that now foams with
It chanc'd that in dog-days he sat at his ease,
His body, when long in the ground it had lain, And time into clay had resolv'd it again, A potter found out in its covert so snug, And with part of fat Toby he form’d this brown jug, Now facred to friendship, to mirth, and mild ale, So here's to my lovely sweet Nan of the vale.
Y smooth winding Tay a swain was reclining,
Aft cry'd he, oh hey! maun I still live pining
Nae mair it will hide, the flame waxes stronger;
She's fresh as the spring, and sweet as Aurora, When birds mount and fing, bidding day a good morrow; The swaird of the mead, enamelld with daisies, Looks wither'd and dead when twin’d of her graces.
But if she appears where verdure invites her, The fountains run clear, and flowers smell the sweeter; 'Tis heaven to be by when her wit is a flowing, Her smiles and sweet eye fet my fpirits a glowing.
The mair that I gaze, the deeper I'm wounded,
O Bonny lass will
you lie in a barrack, marry a foger and
minnie nor daddie, But off and away with my soger laddie.
O bonny lass will you go a campaigning ?
you suffer the hardships of battle and famine? When fainting and bleeding, O cou'd you draw near me ? And kindly support me, and tenderly chear me?
O yes I will go, tho' these evils you mention, And twenty times more if you had the invention ;
Neither hunger, nor cold, nor dangers alarm me,
LAST TIME I CAME O ER THE MUIR. THE last time I came o'er the muir, Ye powers ! what pain do I endure,
When soft ideas mind me?
The beaming day ensuing,
In fit retreats for wooing.
Beneath the cooling shade we lay,
Gazing and chastely sporting ; We kiss’d and promis'd time away,
Till night spread her black curtain. I pitied all beneath the skies,
Even Kings, when she was nigh me ; In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which cou'd but ill deny me.
Shou'd I be call'd where cannons roar,
Where mortal steel may wound me ; Or cast upon some foreign fhore,
Where dangers may surround me;
To feast on glowing kisses,
In prospect of such bliffes.
In all my foul there's not one place
To let a rival enter;
In her my love shall center.
Their waves the Alps shall cover ;
On Greenland-ice shall roses
grow, Before I cease to love her.
The next time I gang o’er the muir,
She shall a lover find me; And that
faith is firm and pure,
My heart to her fair bosom ;
My love more fresh shall blossom.
THE YELLOW-HAIR’D LADDIE.
N April when primroses paint the sweet plain,
There, under the shade of an old facred thorn,
The shepherd thus sung, Tho' young Maya be fair, Her beauty is dalh'd with a scornfu' proud air ; But Susie was handsome, and sweetly.cou'd ling; Her breath like the breezes perfum'd in the spring.
That Madie in all the gay bloom of her youth, Like the moon was inconftant, and never spoke truth; But Sufie was faithful, good-humour'd and free, And fair as the goddess that sprung from the sea.
That mamma's fine daughter, with all her great dow'r, Was aukwardly airy, and frequently fowr;