A SONG.

TUNE- BUSK YE, MY BONNY BRIDE."

BUSK ye, busk ye, my bonny bride;
Bufk ye, bufk ye, my bonny marrow;
Bufk ye, bufk ye, my bonny bride,

Busk, and go to the braes of Yarrow;
There will we sport and gather dew,

Dancing while lavrocks fing the morning; There learn frae turtles to prove true; O Bell! ne'er vex me with thy fcorning.

To westlin breezes Flora yields,

And when the beams are kindly warming, Blythness appears o'er all the fields,

And nature looks mair fresh and charming. Learn frae the burns that trace the mead,

Tho' on their banks the roses bloffom.

Yet haftily they flow to Tweed,

And pour their sweetness in his bofom.

Hafte ye, hafte ye, my bonny Bell,

Haste to my arms, and there I'll guard thee;

With free confent my fears repel,

I'll with my love and care reward thee.

Thus fang I faftly to my fair,

Wha rais'd my hopes with kind relenting.

O queen of fmiles! I afk nae mair,

Since now my bonny Bell's confenting.

THE HIGHLAND LASSIE.

THE Lawland maids gang trig and fine,
But aft they're four and unco faucy;
Sae proud they never can be kind,
Like my good-humour'd Highland laffie.
O my bonny, bonny Highland laffie,
My hearty smiling Highland laffie,
May never care make thee lefs fair,
But bloom of youth still bless my

Than ony lafs in borrows-town,

laffie.

Wha mak their cheeks with patches motie,

I'd tak my Katie but a gown,

Barefooted, in her little coatie.
O my bonny, &c.

Beneath the brier or brecken bush,

Whene'er I kiss and court my dautie,

Happy and blyth as ane wad wifh,
My flighteren heart gangs pittie-pattie.
O my bonny, &c.

O'er highest heathery hills I'll ften,
With cockit and ratches tenty,

gun

To drive the deer out of their den,

To feast my lass on dishes dainty,
O my bonny, &c.

There's

There's nane fhall dare, by deed or word,
'Gainft her to wag a tongue or finger,
While I can wield my trusty fword,
Or frae my fide whisk out a whinger.
O my bonny, &c.

The mountains clad with purple bloom,
And berries ripe, invite my treasure
To range with me; let great fowk gloom,

While wealth and pride confound their plea

fure.

O my bonny, &c.

THE AULD MAN'S BEST ARGUMENT.

O WHA 's that at my chamber door?— "Fair widow, are ye wawking?"Auld carle, your fuit give o'er,

Your love lies a' in tawking:

Gi'e me the lad that 's young and tight,

Sweet like an April meadow 'Tis fic as he can blefs the fight

And bofom of a widow.

"O widow!

"O widow! wilt thou let me in,

"I'm pawky, wise, and thrifty, "And come of a right gentle kin; "I'm little mair than fifty." Daft carle, dit your mouth, What fignifies how pawky, Or gentle born ye be; but youth, you 're but a gawky.

In love

"Then, widow, let these guineas fpeak, "That powerfully plead clinkan; "And if they fail my mouth I'll steek, "And nae mair love will think on." These court indeed, I man confefs, I think they make you young, Sir, And ten times better can express Affection, than your tongue, Sir.

TO MRS. A. C.

LL WHEN BEAUTY BLAZES."

WHEN beauty blazes heavenly bright,
The mufe can no more ceafe to fing,
Than can the lark, with rifing light,

Her notes neglect with drooping wing.
The morning fhines, harmonious birds mount hy;
The dawning beauty fmiles, and poets fly.

Young Annie's budding graces claim
The infpir'd thought, and foftest lays,
And kindle in the breast a flame,

Which must be vented in her praise.

Tell us, ye gentle fhepherds, have

you feen E'er one so like an angel tread the green?

Ye youth, be watchful of your hearts,
When the appears, take the alarm;
Love on her beauty points his darts,

And wings an arrow from each charm.
Around her eyes and smiles the graces sport,
And to her fnowy neck and breast resort.

But