Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/327
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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
261
Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, Fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, Fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.
The Deil he could na scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonie face,
And say, 'I canna wrang thee.'
Or aught that wad belang thee;
He'd look into thy bonie face,
And say, 'I canna wrang thee.'
The Powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha'na steer thee;
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
Misfortune sha'na steer thee;
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
Return again, Fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag, we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonie.
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag, we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonie.
AMANG THE TREES.
TUNE—'THE KING OF FRANCE, HE RADE A RACE.'
Amang the trees where humming bees
At buds and flowers were hinging, O
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
And to her pipe was singing; O
'Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspey, or Reels,
She dirl❜d them aff fu' clearly, O
When there cam a yell o' foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalteerie, O—
At buds and flowers were hinging, O
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
And to her pipe was singing; O
'Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspey, or Reels,
She dirl❜d them aff fu' clearly, O
When there cam a yell o' foreign squeels,
That dang her tapsalteerie, O—
Their capon craws and queer ha ha's,
They made our lugs grow eerie; O
The hungry bike did scrape and pike
Till we were wae and weary: O—
But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd
A prisoner aughteen year awa,
He fir'd a fiddler in the north
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
They made our lugs grow eerie; O
The hungry bike did scrape and pike
Till we were wae and weary: O—
But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd
A prisoner aughteen year awa,
He fir'd a fiddler in the north
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
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ON SENSIBILITY.
TO MY DEAR AND MUCH HONOURED FRIEND, MRS. DUNLOP, OF DUNLOP.
AIR—'SENSIBILITY.'
Sensibility, how charming,
Thou, my friend, canst truly tell;
But distress, with horrors arming,
Thou hast also known too well!
Thou, my friend, canst truly tell;
But distress, with horrors arming,
Thou hast also known too well!
Fairest flower, behold the lily,
Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate on the clay.
Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate on the clay.
Hear the wood-lark charm the forest,
Telling o'er his little joys;
Hapless bird! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies.
Telling o'er his little joys;
Hapless bird! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure
Finer feelings can bestow;
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
Finer feelings can bestow;
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
SWEETEST MAY.
Sweetest May, let love inspire thee;
Take a heart which he designs thee;
As thy constant slave regard it;
For its faith and truth reward it.
Take a heart which he designs thee;
As thy constant slave regard it;
For its faith and truth reward it.
Proof o' shot to birth or money,
Not the wealthy, but the bonie;
Not high-born, but noble-minded,
In love's silken band can bind it!
Not the wealthy, but the bonie;
Not high-born, but noble-minded,
In love's silken band can bind it!