Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright, May coward shame distain his name, SONG. HERE'S a bottle and an honest friend! ILK care and fear, when thou art near, Are no sae blest as I am, O! I'll kiss thee, &c. When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, I clasp my countless treasure, 0; And by thy e'en, sae bonie blue, SONG. Tune, If he be a Butcher neat and trim.' ON Cessnock banks there lives a lass, And the glancin' of her sparklin' e'en. She's fresher than the morning dawn She's stately like yon youthful ash, That grows the cowslip braes between, She's spotless as the flow'ring thorn With flow'rs so white and leaves so green, When purest in the dewy morn; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her looks are like the sportive lamb, An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her hair is like the curling mist That shades the mountain-side at e'en, When flow'r-reviving rains are past; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush Her lips are like the cherries ripe, Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her breath is like the fragrant breeze That gently stirs the blossom'd bean, When Phoebus sinks behind the seas; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. But it's not her air, her form, her face, Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen, But the mind that shines in ev'ry grace, An' chiefly in her sparklin' e'en. WAE IS MY HEART. WAE is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e; Love, thou hast pleasures; and deep hae I loved; Love, thou hast sorrows; and sair hae I proved: But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast, I can feel by its throbbings will soon be at rest. O if I were, where happy I hae been; Down by yon stream and yon bonie castle green : For there he is wand'ring and musing on me, Wha wad soon dry the tear frae Phillis's e'e. SONG. Tune, Banks of Banna.' YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine, A place where body saw na'; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine The gowden locks of Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness Ye monarchs, tak the east and west, Gie me within my straining grasp Awa thou flaunting god o' day! Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray And bring an angel pen to write SONG.* THE Deil cam fiddling thro' the town, 6 'We wish you luck o' the prize, man. At a meeting of his brother Excisemen in Dumfries, Burns, being called upon for a Song, handed these verses extempore to the President, written on the back of a letter. |