IV.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane:
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

V.

O had she but been of a lower degree,

I then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me! O, how past descriving had then been my bliss, As now my distraction no words can express!

SONG XV.

OH, OPEN THE DOOR.

AIR. OPEN THE DOOR.

I.

Он, open the door, some pity to shew,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh;

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

II.

Oh, cold is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But colder thy love for me, Oh!

The frost that freezes the life at my breast,
Is nought to my pains from thee, Oh!

III.

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, And time is setting with me, Oh!

False friends, false Love, farewel! for more

I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, Oh!

E S

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide, She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh!

My true love!" she cried,—and sunk down by

his side,

Never to rise again, Oh!

SONG XVI.

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST, &c.

AIR. THE MILL MILL O.

I.

WHEN Wild War's deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle Peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning.
I left the lines, and tented fields,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest soldier.

II.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I cheery on did wander.

I thought upon the banks of Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.

III.

At length I reach'd the bonny glen,
Where early life I sported;

I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn,
Where Nancy aft I courted :
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,
Down by her mother's dwelling!
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my een was swelling.

IV.

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,

O! happy, happy may he be,
That's dearest to thy bosom:

My purse is light, I've far to gang,
And fain wad be thy lodger;

I've serv'd my king and country lang,
Take pity on a soldier!

V.

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
And lovelier was than ever;
Quo' she, a soldier ance I lo'ed,
Forget him shall I never :

Our humble cot, and hamely fare,

Ye freely shall partake it,

That gallant badge, the dear cockade, Ye're welcome for the sake o't.

VI.

She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose,Syne pale like ony lily,

She sank within my arms, and cried, Art thou my ain dear Willie?— By Him who made yon sun and sky,

By whom true love's regarded,

I am the man-and thus

may still

True lovers be rewarded!