Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/505

Rh Thy praise, bonnie lassie, I ever could hear of,

And yet when to ruse ye the neebour lads try,

Though it's a' true they tell ye, yet never sae far off

I could see 'em ilk ane, an' I canna tell why.

When we tedded the hayfield, I raked ilka rig o't,

And never grew wearie the lang simmer day;

The rucks that ye wrought at were easiest biggit,

And I fand sweeter scented aroun' ye the hay.

In har'st, whan the kirn-supper joys mak' us cheerie,

'Mang the lave of the lasses I pried yere sweet mou';

Dear save us! how queer I felt whan I cam' near ye,

My breast thrill'd in rapture, I couldna tell how.

Whan we dance at the gloamin' it's you I aye pitch on,

And gin ye gang by me how dowie I be;

There's something, dear lassie, about ye bewitching,

That tells me my happiness centres in thee.

sat upon a grassy knowe,

My lassie dear an' me,

When round her neck my arms I flung

An' gat her on my knee.

White as the swan's that bonnie neck,

How saft nae words may say,

I lookit fondly in her face,

And gazed the hours away.

The e'enin' cloud that's fring'd wi' gowd

Was match'd wi' Phemie's hair;

The apple bloom,—how saft its tint,

Her cheek was twice as fair.

Her breath was sweeter than the breeze

That plays 'mang new-maun hay;

Her form was gracefu' as a fawn,

An' fresh as openin' day.

Her poutin' lips sae rosy red

'Mang laughin' dimples dwell,

Nae journey-wark were they I trow,

But made by Love himsel'.

Her voice was like a Unty's sang,

Her een were bonnie blue,

And mine drank in the livin' light

That sparkled through the dew.

I kist her twenty times and mair,

Syne took them a' again;

My heart was rinnin owre wi' bliss

That hour she was mine ain.

O monie a day has fled sinsyne,

When first her lips I prest,

But ne'er a wish has stray'd frae her,

In blessing, I am blest.

Our love was bonnie in the bud,

But bonnier in the bloom,—

The morning rose delights the e'e,

The gloamin' brings perfume.

Methuselah's were mony years,

But lived I lang as he,

I'll ne'er forget the raptur'd hour,

I gat her on my knee.

day is departed, and round from the cloud

The moon in her beauty appears;

The voice of the nightingale warbles aloud

The music of love in our ears.

Maria, appear! now the season so sweet

With the beat of the heart is in tune;

The time is so tender for lovers to meet

Alone by the light of the moon.

I cannot when present unfold what I feel:

I sigh—can a lover do more?

Her name to the shepherds I never reveal,

Yet I think of her all the day o'er.

Maria, my love! do you long for the grove?

Do you sigh for an interview soon?

Does e'er a kind thought run on me as you rove

Alone by the light of the moon?

Your name from the shepherds whenever I hear

My bosom is all in a glow;

Your voice, when it vibrates so sweet through mine ear,

My heart thrills—my eyes overflow.

Ye powers of the sky, will your bounty divine

Indulge a fond lover his boon?

Shall heart spring to heart, and Maria be mine,

Alone by the light of the moon?