Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/562

544

early I woo'd thee—how dearly I lo'ed thee—

How sweet was thy voice, and how lovely thy smile;

The joy 'twas to see thee—the bliss to be wi' thee—

I now maun reinember, and sigh all the while.

I gazed on thy beauty, and a' things about thee

Seem'd too fair for earth, as I bent at thy shrine,

But fortune and fashion, inair powerfu' than passion,

Could alter the bosom that seem'd so divine.

Anither may praise thee, may fondle and fraize thee,

And win thee wi' words when his heart's far awa';

But oh! when sincerest—when warmest and dearest

His vows, will my truth be forgot by thee a'?

'Mid pleasures and splendour thy fancy may wander,

But moments o' solitude ilk ane maun dree;

Then feeling will find thee, and mem'ry remind thee

O' him wha through life gaes heart-broken for thee.

[ is a translation from a Gaelic song by the author,, A.M., Aberdeen, and is here printed for the first time.]

the swan on the lake, or the foam on the shore,

Can compare with the charms of the maid I adore:

Not so white is the new milk that flows o'er the pail,

Or the snow that is shower'd from the boughs of the vale.

As the cloud's yellow wreath on the mountain's high brow,

The locks of my fair one redundantly flow;

Her cheeks have the tint that the roses display,

When they glitter with dews on the morning of May.

As the planet of Venus that gleams o'er the grove,

Her blue-rolling eye are the symbols of love:

Her pearl-circled bosom diffuses bright rays,

Like the moon, when the stars are bedimm'd with her blaze.

The mavis and lark, when they welcome the dawn,

Make a chorus of joy to resound through the lawn:

But the mavis is tuneless; the lark strives in vain,

When my beautiful charmer renews her sweet strain.

When summer bespangles the landscape wi' flow'rs,

While the thrush and the cuckoo sing soft from the bow'rs,

Through the wood-shaded windings with Bella I'll rove,

And feast unrestrain'd on the smiles of my love.