On whatever sod I kneel,
Heaven knows I ever feel
For the honour and the weal
O' my ain countrie!
O gin I were.
[Alex. Maclaggan.]
O! gin I were the balmy sleep
That saftly seals young Phœbe's e'e,
When, soothed by slumbers warm and deep,
Sic visions in her dreams wad be
As angels might be blythe to see.
Then I would ope my aching heart,
My aching heart, that Phœbe fair
Might see in every troubled part
Her own sweet image smiling there,
Like sunshine on a cloud of care.
Phœbe Graeme.
[Alex. Maclaggan.]
Arise, my faithfu' Phœbe Graeme!
I grieve to see ye sit
Sae laigh upon your creepy stool,
In sic a dorty fit!
A reamin' cog's a wilin' rogue;
But, by my vows sincere,
Ilk smilin' cup, by mirth flll'd up,
Was drained wi' friends lang dear.
Ye needua turn your tearfu' e'e
Sae aften on the clock;
I ken the short han' frae the lang
As weel as wiser folk.
Let hoary time, wi' bleth'rin' chime,
Taunt on—nae wit has he!
Nae spell-spun hour—nae wilin' power,
Can win my heart frae thee.
Oh, weel ye ken, dear Phœbe Graeme!
Sin' we, 'maist bairns, wed,
That, torn by poortith's iron teeth,
My heart has aft times bled:—
Fortune, the jaud, for a' she had,
Doled me but feckless blanks;
But bless'd wi' thee, and love, and glee,
I scorn her partial pranks.
As drumlie clouds o'er summer skies
Let anger's shadows flit!
There's days o' peace, and nights o' joy,
To pass between us yet!
For I do swear to thee, my fair,
Till life's last pulse be o'er,
Till light depart, my faithfu' heart
Shall love thee more and more!
Fair be thy fa'! my Phœbe Graeme!
Enraptured now I see
The smile upon thy bonnie face,
Whilk wont to welcome me.
Grant me the bliss o' ae fond kiss,
Ae kind forgi'ein' blink
O' thy true love, and I will prove
Far wiser than ye think!
The Three Lasses.
[William Holmes.—Here first printed.]
My heart, alack! is sair opprest
For love o' lasses three;
I kenna whilk o' them to choose,
They're a' sae dear to me.
Young Peggy has a takin' gate,
She's nimble as the fawn;
An' likes to play a merry prank,
While skipping o'er the lawn.
To see her dancin' gowden locks,
My heart loups licht wi' glee;
An' when I pree her rosy lips,
Care flees awa' frae me.
Wi' eager look upon a book,
You'll aft see lady Ann,
Wi' jetty locks, an' lily neck
Bent like a stately swan;
Amang the tales of olden time
She's sic a learned quean,
Ye maun tak' tent ere ye begin
To crack wi' her at e'en.
