Page:Burns' celebrated songs.pdf/10

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From his bosom that heav’d, the last torrent was streaming,

And pale was his visage, deep mark’d with a fear ;

And dim was that eye, once expressivly beaming,

That melted in love, and that kindled in war.

How smit was poor Adelaide’s heart at the sight!

How bitter the wept o'er the victim of war !

“ Hast thou come, my fond love, this last sorrowful night,

“ To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar !"

“ Thou shalt live ! (she reply’d) heaven’s mercy relieving,

"Each anguishing wound shall forbid me to mourn.”

“ Ah ! no, the last pang in my bosom is heaving,

“ No light of the morn shall to Henry return :

“ Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true,

“ Ye babes of my love that await me afar”—

His faultering tongue scarce could murmur, adieu !

When he sunk in her arms, the poor wounded Hussar.

Jenny's Bawbee.

I Met four chaps yon birks amang,

Wi’ hanging lugs, and faces lang,

I spier’d at neighbour Bauldy Strang,

What are they these we see?

Quoth he, Ilk cream-fac'd pawky chiel,

Thinks himsel cunning as the deil,

And here they cam’ awa to steal

Jenny’s Bawbee.

The first, a Captain to his trade,

Wi’ ill-lin’d scull, and back well clad,

March’d roun’ the barn, and bye the shed,

And papped on his knee ;

Quoth he, “ My Goddess, Nymph, and Queen,

“ Your beauty dazzl’d baith my een,”

Tho’ deil a beauty he had seen,

But Jenny’s Bawbee.