Page Fair the face of orient day- 292 Farewell thou stream that winding flows Fate gave the word, the arrow sped Forlorn, my love, no comfort near 148 245 Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes 239 - - Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen 190 Page Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion 177 Maxwell, if merit here you crave 126 Musing on the roaring ocean 210 My Chloris, mark how green the groves No more of your guests, be they titled or not 142 278 - 346 224 243 240 281 267 271 No more, ye warblers of the wood, no more 264 O had the malt thy strength of mind 272 O ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten 43 O Luve will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen 234 Page O'er the mist-shrouded cliffs of the lone mountain stray- Sing on, sweet thrush, upon thy leafless bough 270 Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature? 137 The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill 217 Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon - 174 There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen 20 25 There was once a day, but old Time then was young 255 297 'Twas na her bonnie blue e'e was my ruin 175 True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow 37 Turn again thou fair Eliza 223 What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie 228 Where are the joys I hae met in the morning 101 |