Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Her een sae bonnie blue betray

How she repays my passion; But prudence is her o'er word aye, She talks o' rank and fashion.

Oh, why, &c.

Oh, wha can prudence think upon,
And sic a lassie by him?

Oh, wha can prudence think upon,

And sae in love as I am?

Oh, why, &c.

How blest the humble cottar's fate!

He woos his simple dearie;

The silly bogles wealth and state

Can never make him eerie.

Oh, why, &c.

THE LEA-RIG.

BURNS. Air-"The Lea-Rig."

WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star

Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow'd field Return sae dowf and weary 0; Down by the burn where scented birks Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie O.

In mirkest glen at midnicht hour
I'd rove and ne'er be eerie O,

If through that glen I gaed to thee,
My ain kind dearie O.

Although the night were ne'er sae wild,

An' I were ne'er sae wearie O,

I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,

My ain kind dearie O.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen,
Along the burn to steer, my jo:
Gie me the hour o' gloamin' grey;

It maks my heart sae cheery O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,

My ain kind dearie O.

Burns, in sending this song to George Thomson, which he had founded upon an olden composition with the same title, says, "Who shall rise up, and say, 'Go to! I will make a better' (then an old song)? For instance, on reading over the 'Lea-rig,' I immediately set trying my hand upon it, and after all, I could make nothing more of it than the following, which, Heaven knows, is poor enough!"

[graphic][merged small][merged small]

The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn
By early Winter's ravage torn,
Across her placid azure sky
She sees the scowling tempest fly:
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

'Tis not the surging billows' roar,
"Tis not that fatal, deadly shore;
Though death in ev'ry shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear:
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierced with many a wound;
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.

Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!

Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr!

AGAIN REJOICING NATURE SEES.

BURNS. Air-"I wish my love were in a myre."

AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hue,
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dew.

And maun I still on Menie doat,

And fear the scorn that's in her ee?
For it's jet, jet black, and it's like a hawk,
And it winna let a bodie be.

In vain to me the cowslips blaw;
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me in glen or shaw
The mavis and the lint-white sing.
And maun I still, &c.

The merry ploughboy cheers his team ;
Wi' joy the tentie seedman stauks;
But life to me's a weary dream,

A dream of ane that never wauks.
And maun I still, &c.

The wanton coot the water skims ;
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry;
The stately swan majestic swims;
And everything is blest but I.

And maun I still, &e.

The shepherd steeks his faulding slaps,
And o'er the moorland whistles shrill;
Wi' wild, unequal, wandering step,
I meet him on the dewy hill.

And maun I still, &c.

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisie's side,
And mounts and sings on fluttering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
And maun I still, &c.

Come, Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When nature all is sad like me!

And maun I still on Menie doat,

And bear the scorn that's in her ee?

For it's jet, jet black, and it's like a hawk,
And it winna let a bodie be.

The chorus of this song is the composition of a gentleman in Edinburgh, a friend of Robert Burns. 'Menie' is a term of endearment for Marianne. "We cannot," says Dr. Currie, " presume to alter any of the poems of our bard, and more especially those printed under his own direction; yet it is to be regretted that this chorus, which is not his own composition, should be attached to these fine stanzas, as it perpetually interrupts the train of sentiment which they excite." Mr. George Thomson, in printing the music, with Burns's poetry, omitted the chorus and the fourth

stanza.

THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.

BURNS.

BONNIE lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go;
Bonnie lassie, will ye go to the birks of Aberfeldy ?

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlets plays;
Come, let us spend the lichtsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldy.

While o'er their head the hazels hing,
The little birdies blythely sing,

Or lichtly flit on wanton wing,

In the birks of Aberfeldy.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foamin' stream deep-roaring fa's,
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldy.

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White ower the lin the burnie pours,
And risin weets wi' misty showers

The birks of Aberfeldy.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,

In the birks of Aberfeldy.

This song was written for "Johnson's Musical Museum," to the air of The birks of Aberfeldy." From the original song Burns borrowed nothing but the chorus. The air is to be found, with some variations, in Playford's "Dancing Master," 1657.

« VorigeDoorgaan »