ALLAN RAMSAY.

1686-1758.

["Tea-Table Miscellany." 1724.]

THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL.

THE lass of Patie's mill,

So bonny, blyth, and gay,

In spite of all my skill,

She stole my heart away.

When tedding of the hay,

Bare-headed on the green,
Love 'midst her locks did play,
And wanton'd in her een.

Her arms white, round, and smooth,
Breasts rising in their dawn,

To age it would give youth

To press 'em with his hand:

Thro' all my spirits ran

An extasy of bliss,

When I such sweetness fand
Wrapt in a balmy kiss.

Without the help of art,

Like flowers which grace the wild,

She did her sweets impart,

Whene'er she spoke or smil'd.

Her looks they were so mild,
Free from affected pride,

She me to love beguil'd;

I wish'd her for my bride.

O had I all the wealth

Hopeton's high mountains fill,

Insur'd lang life and health,

And pleasure at my will;

I'd promise and fulfil

That none but bonny she,

The lass of Patie's mill,

Shou'd share the same wi' me.

O'ER THE MOOR TO MAGGIE.

And I'll o'er the moor to Maggy, Her wit and sweetness call me, Then to my fair I'll show my mind, Whatever may befall me:

If she love mirth I'll learn to sing, Or likes the Nine to follow, I'll lay my lugs in Pindus' spring, And invocate Apollo.

If she admire a martial mind,

I'll sheath my limbs in armour;

If to the softer dance inclin❜d,

With gayest airs I'll charm her; If she love grandeur, day and night I'll plot my nation's glory, Find favour in my prince's sight, And shine in future story.

Beauty can wonders work with ease,

Where wit is corresponding,

And bravest men know best to please,

With complaisance abounding.
My bonny Maggy's love can turn

Me to what shape she pleases,
If in her breast that flame shall burn,
Which in my bosom bleezes.

GIE ME A LASS WITH A LUMP OF LAND.

Gi'e me a lass with a lump of land,

And we for life shall gang thegither; Tho' daft or wise, I'll never demand,

Or black or fair it maks nae whether.
I'm aff with wit, and beauty will fade,

And blood alane is no worth a shilling;
But she that's rich her market's made,
For ilka charm about her is killing.

Gi'e me a lass with a lump of land,

And in my bosom I'll hug my treasure;

Gin I had anes her gear in my hand,

Shou'd love turn dowf, it will find pleasure. Laugh on wha likes, but there's my hand,

I hate with poortith, tho' bonny to meddle; Unless they bring cash, or a lump of land,

They 'se never get me to dance to their fiddle.

There's meikle good love in bands and bags,

And siller and gowd's a sweet complexion; But beauty, and wit, and virtue in rags,

Have tint the art of gaining affection.

Love tips his arrows with woods and parks,

And castles, and riggs, and moors, and meadows;

And naithing can catch our modern sparks,

But well-tocher'd lasses, or jointur'd widows.

"

JAMES THOMSON.

1700-1748.

["Orpheus Caledonius." 1725.]

TO FORTUNE.

FOREVER, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,

And, when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part:

Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the soul away;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the love of life is gone?

But busy, busy still art thou,
To bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude.

For pomp, and noise, and senseless show,
To make us Nature's joys forego,
Beneath a gay dominion groan,
And put the golden fetter on!

For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,
And I absolve thy future care;

All other blessings I resign,

Make but the dear Amanda mine.

TO HER I LOVE.

Tell me, thou soul of her I love,

Ah! tell me, whither art thou fled;

To what delightful world above,
Appointed for the happy dead?

Or dost thou, free, at pleasure, roam,
And sometimes share thy lover's woe;
Where, void of thee, his cheerless home
Can now, alas! no comfort know?

O if thou hover'st round my walk,

While, under every well-known tree,

I to thy fancied shadow talk,

And every tear is full of thee:

Should then the weary eye of grief,
Beside some sympathetic stream,

In slumber find a short relief,

O visit then my soothing dream!