SLOW spreads the gloom my soul desires,
The sun from India's shore retires;
To Evan Banks, with temp'rate ray,
Home of my youth, he leads the day.
Oh banks to me forever dear!
Oh streams whose murmurs still I hear!
All, all my hopes of bliss reside
Where Evan mingles with the Clyde.
And she, in simple beauty drest,
Whose image lives within my breast;
Who trembling heard my parting sigh,
And long pursued me with her eye;
Does she, with heart unchang'd as mine,
Oft in the vocal bowers recline?
Or where yon grot o'erhangs the tide,
Muse while the Evan seeks the Clyde?
Ye lofty banks that Evan bound!
Ye lavish woods that wave around,
And o'er the stream your shadows throw,
Which sweetly winds so far below;
What secret charm to mem'ry brings,
All that on Evan's border springs;
Sweet banks! ye bloom by Mary's side:
Blest stream! she views thee haste to Clyde.--
Can all the wealth of India's coast
Atone for years in absence lost?
Return, ye moments of delight,
With richer treasures bless my sight!
Swift from this desert let me part,
And fly to meet a kindred heart!
Nor more may ought my steps divide
From that dear stream which flows to Clyde.-
AE fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met-or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest !
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee,
HERE'S a health to them that 's awa,
Here's a health to them that 's awa;
And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause,
May never gude luck be their fa'!*
It 's gude to be merry and wise,
It's gude to be honest and true,
It 's gude to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.
Here's a health to them that 's awa,
Here's a health to them that 's awa;
Here's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan,
Altho' that his band be sma'.
May liberty meet wi' success!
May prudence protect her frae evil!
May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist,
And wander their way to the devil!
Here's a health to them that 's awa,
Here's a health to them that 's awa,
Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie,
That lives at the lug o' the law!
Here's freedom to him, that wad read,
Here's freedom to him, that wad write!
There 's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be
But they wham the truth wad indite.
Here's a health to them that 's awa,
Here's a health to them that 's awa,
Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a Chieftain worth gowd,
Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw!
Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green,
An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring,
By Girvan's fairy haunted stream
The birdies flit on wanton wing.
To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's,
There wi' my Mary let me flee,
There catch her ilka glance of love
The bonie blink o' Mary's e'e!
The child wha boasts o' warld's walth,
Is aften lairḍ o' meikle care;
But Mary she is a' my ain,
Ah, fortune canna gie me mair!
Then let me range by Cassillis' banks,
Wi' her the lassie dear to me,
And catch her ilka glance o' love,
The bonie blink o' Mary's e'e!
THE BONIE LAD THAT 'S FAR AWA.
O How can I be blythe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonie lad that I lo❜e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa?
Its no the frosty winter wind,
Its no the driving drift and snaw;
But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
To think on him that 's far awa.
My father pat me frae his door,
My friends they hae disown'd me a’.
But I hae ane will tak my part,
The bonie lad that's far awa.
A pair o' gloves he gave to me,
And silken snoods* he gave me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonie lad that 's far awa.
The weary winter soon will pass,
And spring will cleed the birken-shaw;
And my sweet babie will be born,
And he 'll come hame that 's far awa.†
Out over the Forth I look to the north,
But what is the north and its Highlands to me?
The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea.
But I look to the west, when I gae to rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be; For far in the west lives he I lo❜e best,
The lad that is dear to my babie and me.
* Ribbands for binding the hair,
I have heard the country girls, in the Merse and Teviotdale, sing a song, the first stanza of which greatly resembles the opening of this.
O how can I be blythe or glad,
Or in my mind contented be,
When he 's far aff that I love best,
And banish'd frae my company.
Of this exquisite ballad the last verse only is printed in Dr. Currie's edition-He did not know that the opening stanza existed.
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