SAE flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er-arching

Twa laughing een o' bonny blue.
Her smiling sae wiling,

Wad mak a wretch forget his woe;
What pleasure, what treasure,

Unto these rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris' bonny face,
When first her bonny face I saw ;
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

Like harmony her motion;
Her pretty ankle is a spy,
Betraying fair proportion,

Wad mak a saint forget the sky.
Sae warming, sae charming,

Her faultless form and gracefu' air ;

Ilk feature-auld Nature

Declared that she could do nae mair.
Hers are the willing chains o' love,

By conquering beauty's sovereign law;
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

Let others love the city

And gaudy show at sunny noon;

Gie me the lonely valley,

The dewy eve, and rising moon;

Fair beaming and streaming,

Her silver light the boughs amang;

While falling, recalling,

The amorous thrush concludes his sang;

There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'est me best of a'?

"HAVING been out in the country dining with a friend," (Mr. Lorimer of Kemmis Hall,) says the poet in a letter to Thomson, "I met with a lady, [Mrs. Whelpdale-the Chloris of the preceding and three following songs,] and as usual got into song, and on returning home composed the following:"

SLEEP'ST thou, or wakest thou, fairest creature?
Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,

Numbering ilka bud which nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
Now through the leafy woods,
And by the reeking floods,

Wild nature's tenants, freely, gladly, stray;
The lintwhite in his bower

Chants o'er the breathing flower;

The laverock to the sky

Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,

While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

Phoebus, gilding the brow o' morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladdening and adorning ;
Such to me my lovely maid.
When absent frae my fair,
The murky shades o' care

With startless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky;
But when, in beauty's light,
She meets my ravish'd sight,
When through my very heart
Her beaming glories dart-

'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.

CHLORIS.

THE poet says:-"Having been on a visit the other day to my fair Chloris— that is the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration-she suggested an idea, which, on my return home, I wrought into the following song:

The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn?

The shepherd in the flowery glen
In shepherd's phrase will woo;
The courtier tells a finer tale-
But is his heart as true?

These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine;

The courtier's gems may witness love-
But 'tisna love like mine.

TO CHLORIS.

THE following lines, says the poet, were "written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, and presented to the lady whom, with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of Chloris:"-

"TIS Friendship's pledge, my young, fair friend,

Nor thou the gift refuse,

Nor with unwilling ear attend

The moralising Muse.

Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,

Must bid the world adieu,

(A world 'gainst peace in constant arms,)
To join the friendly few ;

Since thy gay morn of life o'ercast,
Chill came the tempest's lower;

(And ne'er misfortune's eastern blast

Did nip a fairer flower ;)

Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,
Still much is left behind;

Still nobler wealth hast thou in store-
The comforts of the mind!

Thine is the self-approving glow
On conscious honour's part;
And-dearest gift of Heaven below-
Thine friendship's truest heart.

The joys refined of sense and taste,
With every Muse to rove :
And doubly were the poet blest,
These joys could he improve.

AH, CHLORIS !

Tune-"Major Graham."

AI, Chloris! since it mayna be
That thou of love wilt hear;
If from the lover thou maun flee,
Yet let the friend be dear.

Although I love my Chloris mair
Than ever tongue could tell ;
My passion I will ne'er declare,
I'll say, I wish thee well.

Though a' my daily care thou art,
And a' my nightly dream,

I'll hide the struggle in my heart,
And say it is esteem.

SAW YE MY PHELY?

Tune-"When she cam ben she bobbit."

OH, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

Oh, saw ye my dear, my Phely?

She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love, She winna come hame to her Willy.

What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.

Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
Oh, had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair-
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.

HOW LONG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT!

To a Gaelic Air.

How long and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie!
I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.
I sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.

When I think on the happy days
I spent wi' you, my dearie,
And now what lands between us lie,
How can I be but eerie ?1

And now what lands between us lie,
How can I be but eerie?

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
As ye were wae and weary!
It wasna sae ye glinted by
When I was wi' my dearie.
It wasna sae ye glinted by
When I was wi' my dearie.

IMPROVED VERSION.

Tune-"Cauld Kail in Aberdeen."

How long and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie !
I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.

For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
And oh, her dreams are eerie ;
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie.

When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi' thee, my dearie;
And now what seas between us roar-
How can I be but eerie?

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours!
The joyless day how dreary!

It wasna sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi' my dearie.

1 Lonely.