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THE LOVE-SICK MAID.

Air-" The Campbells are comin'."

CHORUS.

SAW ye my laddie as crossed ye the lea?

O saw ye my laddie as crossed ye the lea? Now joke nae mair, Jamie, for pain ye but gie; And tell me, oh tell, where he's wandered frae me.

His troosers are black, and his jacket is blue,
His bonnet the same, and his plaidie is new;
He's tall and he's strappin', sae bloomin' and fair,
That nane o' the parish can wi' him compare.

Then saw ye, &c.

His dark hazel e'e and his love-winnin' smile
Betoken a bosom unsullied by guile;
He's meek and he's modest, devoted and a',
And naething's awantin' worth haein' ava.
Then saw ye, &c.

O bliss o' my bliss, and my pride and desire,
How callous the breast that he canna inspire!
The lassies a' like him, and mony caress
And wheedle around him, their love to express.
Then saw ye, &c.

But in his young fancy his Helen's the wale,
O'er a' their slee airts she can easy prevail:
He kisses and claps me, and ca's me his dear,
And wordless affection he seals wi' a tear.
Then saw ye, &c.

The mair I think o' him the mair am I taen,
And Nature's sweet impulse I canna restrain:
Like magic it sets a' my heart in a flame,
If neebors aroun' only mint but his name.
Then saw ye, &c.

O lang hae I lo'ed him, and evermair will;
There's a neuk i' this bosom nae ither can fill:
Through weal and through wae to my laddie I'll

cling,

Till death to a close our devotion shall bring.

Then saw ye, &c.

But wheisht, O my heart-faith he's comin' at last: That's surely his whistle-oh yes, has he passed Yon green holly bush? and now, Jamie, fareweel; Yet the scene i' the thicket, O never reveal.

BLUE-EYED MARY.

Air-"Blue-Eyed Mary."

THROUGH yon green-wood let me ramble,

'Mang Nature's minstrels singing,

And climb Tweed's bonnie banks and braes, Where the wee wild flowers are springing. How cauld and strange the warld to me! Alane, O let me tarry,

To sigh unseen, and weep, alas!

My absent blue-eyed Mary!

Thrice sacred scenes, to memory dear,
The slumbering past recalling,
When summer o'er the bosom smiled,
Nae blight its verdure palling.
That mystic manna o' the soul,
Amang yon bowers sae fairy,
How often hae I gathered wi'
My absent blue-eyed Mary!

Oft by yon wimplin' burnie, oft
Unconscious whither roaming,
In thrilling nameless rapture fled
The hallowed hours till gloaming.

There in each consecrated shade,
In love that ne'er could vary,
Oft wi' its liquid pledge I blessed
My absent blue-eyed Mary.

O joys unmingled, transports dear,
Her angel charms, oh never
Can I forget, when in the glen
We met to part for ever.

Ah, little dreamt this withered heart,
That fate would blast sae early

Its life, its hope, its all, O heaven,
My absent blue-eyed Mary!

But vain, alas! I linger here,
In vain the tear distilling;
In vain the groan for perished worth,
A lover's woe revealing.
Peace to thy memory! adieu

To a' I lo'ed sae dearly:

Thy sainted room who e'er shall fill,

My absent blue-eyed Mary?

THE HIRSEL YET FOR ME.

WAY! ye orient groves, away! Where fragrant citrons bloom; The orange, lime, and myrtle gay, Exhale their sweet perfume; Nor name those balmy spicy dells, Though florulent they be, Their fairy charms let others sing, The Hirsel yet for me! Elysian spot, while lasts a string, My lyre I'll tune to thee.

How sweet to roam thy sunny glades,
Where wild the flow'rets blow!
Who for thy soft ambrosial shades,
The world would not forego?
Where native minstrels melting pour

Their lays from every tree,
And every heart forgets its care:

The Hirsel yet for me!
Elysian spot, while lasts a string,
My lyre I'll tune to thee.

Unrivalled Flora's loved retreat,
Thy smiling garden, hail;
An Eden here renewed to meet,
What fancy now can fail,

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