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Their vocal ſtrains war ſweet and rare,
Nought wi' their dancing could compare,
Aſſembly-balls are naething mair
Than Concerts at Lochlomond.
For a' the youths were dreſs'd ſae gay,
Their muſic did ſo ſweetly play,
That ilka heart, till break of day,
Rejoic'd about Lochlomond.
Poetic fire can ſcarce deſcrihe
Their beauty a'; without a bribe,
And juſtice gi'e to ilka trike,
Amang the braes o' Lomond.
For me, I frankly this will ſay,
Should men endure on earth for ay;
I'd freely ſpend perpetual day
Amang the braes o' Lomond.
DESPAIRING MARY.
MARY, why thus waſe thy youth-time in ſorrow?
See' a' around you the flowers ſweetly blaw;
Blythe ſets the sun o'er the wild cliffs o' Jura,
Blythe ſinca the mavis in ilka green ſhaw!
How can this heart ever mair think o' pleaſure?
Simmer may ſmile. but delight I have nane;
Cauld in the grave lies my heart's only treaſure,
Nature ſeems dead, ſince my Jamie is gane.
This 'kerchief he gave me, a true-lover's token,
Dear. dear to me, was the gift for his ſake;
I wear't near my heart, but this poor heart is broken,
Hope died wi' Jamie, and left it to break!
