Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/123

Rh "Cut, cut," they cried, "those aged elms.

Lay low yon mournfu' pine:"

Na! na! our fathers' names grow there,

Memorials o' langsyne.

To wean me frae these waefu' thoughts,

They took me to the town;

But sair on ilka weel-kenn'd face

I miss'd the youthfu' bloom.

At balls they pointed to a nymph

Wham a' declar'd divine;

But sure her mother's blushing cheeks

Were fairer far langsyne!

In vain I sought in music's sound

To find that magic art,

Which oft in Scotland's ancient lays

Has thrill'd through a' my heart:

The sang had mony an artfu' turn;

My ear confess'd 'twas fine,

But miss'd the simple melody

I listen'd to langsyne.

Ye sons to comrades o' my youth,

Forgi'e an auld man's spleen,

Wha 'midst your gayest scenes still mourns

The days he ance has seen:

When time has past, and seasons fled,

Your hearts will feel like mine;

And aye the sang will maist delight

That minds ye o' langsyne!

[.—Air, "Sir James Baird."—"This song," says Mr. Maxwell, "seems to have been a favourite with the authoress, for I have met with it in various forms among her papers; and the labour bestowed upon it has been well repaid by the popularity it has all along enjoyed. The edition given, the best that has yet been in types, is printed from a copy of several of her poems and songs, fairly and carefully written out, apparently either for publication or for the perusal of a friend, all of which appear to have got her final corrections. See the air in Neil Gow's First Collection of Reels, &c. 3d edit. p. 8. It forms the 541st song in 'The Scots Musical Museum,' vol. vi., first published in June 1803. The original title of the air seems to have been 'My dearie, an' thou dee.' It is the second song to the music, the first being Gall's beautiful 'O, Mary, turn awa'.' 'Both of these songs,' says Mr. Stenhouse, 'are excellent.]

ails this heart o' mine?

What ails this watery e'e?

What gars me a' turn cauld as death

When I take leave o' thee?

When thou art far awa'

Thou'lt dearer grow to me;

But change o' place and change o' fok

May gar thy fancy jee.

When I gae out at e'en,

Or walk at morning air,

Ilk rustling bush will seem to say

I us'd to meet thee there.

Then I'll sit down and cry,

And live aneath the tree,

And when a leaf fa's i' my lap

I'll ca't a word frae thee.

I'll hie me to the bower

That thou wi' roses tied.

And where wi' mony a blushing bud

I strove mysel' to hide.

I'll doat on ilka spot

Where I ha'e been wi' thee;

And ca' to mind some kindly word

By ilka burn and tree!