XL.

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 o' love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's ee!

The chield wha boasts o' warld's wealth,
Is aften laird 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 bonnie blink o' Mary's ee!

XLI.

MY NANNIE'S AWA.

TUNE-There'll never be Peace.

Now in her green mantle blithe nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
But to me it's delightless-my Nannie's awa.

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn ;

They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, They mind me o' Nannie-my Nannie's awa.

Thou lavrock that springs frae the dews of the lawn, The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn, And thou, mellow mavis, that hails the night-fa', Give over for pity—my Nannie 's awa.

Come, autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and gray, And soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay; The dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw, Alane can delight me-now Nannie 's awa.

XLII.

DAINTY DAVIE.

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green spreading bowers;
And now comes in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.

CHORUS.

Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear dainty Davie.

The crystal waters round us fá',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A-wandering wi' my Davie.

Meet me, &c.

F

When purple morning starts the hare,
To steal upon her early fare,

Then thro' the dews I will repair,

To meet my faithfu' Davie.

Meet me, &c.

When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' nature's rest,

I flee to his arms I lo'e best,
And that's my ain dear Davie.
Meet me, &c.

XLIII.

TO MR. CUNNINGHAM.

TUNE-The hopeless Lover.

Now spring has clad the groves in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers;
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers:
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps of woe?

The trout within yon wimpling burn
Glides swift, a silver dart,
And safe beneath the shady thorn
Defies the angler's art :

My life was once that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I;
But love, wi' unrelenting beam,

Has scorch'd my fountain dry.

The little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,

Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,

Nae ruder visit knows,

Was mine; till love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom,

And now beneath the withering blast
My youth and joy consume.

The waken'd lavrock warbling springs,
And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blithe her dewy wings
In morning's rosy eye:
As little reckt I sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare

O' witching love, in luckless hour,
Made me the thrall o' care.

O had my fate been Greenland snows,
Or Afric's burning zone,

Wi' man and nature leagued my foes,

So Peggy ne'er I'd known!

The wretch whose doom is, "hope nae mair,"
What tongue his woes can tell?
Within whose bosom, save despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell.

XLIV.

COMPOSED IN AUGUST.

TUNE-I had a horse, I had nae mair.

Now westlin winds, and slaughtering guns
Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
The moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather:

Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,

Delights the weary farmer;

And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night
To muse upon my charmer.

The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
The plover loves the mountains;
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
The soaring hern the fountains:
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves,
The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
The spreading thorn the linnet.

Thus every kind their pleasure find,
The savage and the tender;

Some social join, and leagues combine;

Some solitary wander :
Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion;

The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry,
The fluttering, gory pinion!

But Peggy dear, the evening's clear,
Thick flies the skimming swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
All fading-green and yellow :
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And every happy creature.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,

Till the silent moon shine clearly; I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest, Swear how I love thee dearly: