And can thy bosom.
[Goldie.—Air, "Loudon's bonnie woods and braes."]
And can thy bosom bear the thought,
To part frae love and me, laddie?
Are all those plighted vows forgot,
Sae fondly pledged by thee, laddie?
Can'st thou forget the midnight hour,
When in yon love-inspiring bower,
You vow'd by every heavenly power,
You'd ne'er lo'e ane but me, laddie.
Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me,
Win my heart, and then deceive me?
Oh! that heart will break, believe me,
Gin ye part wi' me laddie.
Aft ha'e ye roos'd my rosy cheek,
Aft prais'd my sparkling e'e, laddie,
Aft said nae bliss on earth ye'd seek,
But love and live wi'me, laddie.
But soon those cheeks will lose their red,
Those eyes in endless sleep be hid,
And 'neath the turf the heart be laid,
That beats for love, and thee, laddie.
Wilt thou—wilt thou gang and leave me,
Win my heart and then deceive me?
Oh! that heart will break, believe me,
Gin ye part frae me, laddie.
You'll meet a form mair sweet and fair,
Where rarer beauties shine, laddie,
But oh! the heart can never bear,
A love sae true as mine, laddie.
But when that heart is laid at rest,
That heart that lo'ed ye last and best,
Oh, then the pangs that rend thy breast,
Will sharper be than mine, laddie.
Broken vows will vex and grieve me,
Till a broken heart relieve me,
Yet its latest thought, believe me,
Will be love and thine, laddie.
The Heathy Hills.
[Mitchell.—Air, "Thou bonnie wood of Craigie lea."]
O! were I on the heathy hills,
That rise aboon the Stanley lea;
And wand’ring by the crystal rills,
Where, Mary, first I courted thee:
There mem'ry would recal the hours,
I aft would spend at e'ening's fa',
To twine for thee a wreath o' flowers,
The flowers o' Caledonia.
Here golden groves in every vale,
Attract the stranger's wondering eye,
And gorgeous flowers perfume the gale,
Which wantons through a cloudless sky.
But what's to me the richest flowers,
That ever graced an Indian isle,
If discontent pervade its bowers,
And blight youth's unsuspicious smile?
Will golden groves or glowing skies,
The heart's affections e'er enshrine,
If gentle love the charm denies,
Which beams in my love's face divine?
Then, Scotland, though thy heathy hills,
Aft lie beneath a sheet o' snaw;
In fancy I still seek the rills,
That glide near Stanley's castle wa'.
Glen-na-H'Albyn.
[Sunny.—Glen-na-h'Albyn, or Glen-more na-h'Albyn, the great glen of Caledonia, is a valley abounding in lakes which stretches north-east to south-west, the whole breadth of the kingdom, from the Moray Firth at Inverness to the Sound of Mull below Fort William.—Air, "Cadil gu lo."]
On the airy Ben-nevis the wind is awake;
The boat's on the shallow, the ship on the lake.
Ah! now in a moment my country I leave;
The next I am far away, far on the wave.
O! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn,
O! fare thee well, fare thee well, Glen-na-h'Albyn.
I was proud of the power and the fame of my chief,
And to raise them was ever the aim of my life,
And now in his greatness he turns me away,
When my strength is decayed and my locks are worn grey.
Oh! fare thee well, &c.
Farewell the grey stones of my ancestors' graves,
I go to have mine of the foam of the waves;
Or to die unlamented on Canada's shore,
Where none of my fathers were gather'd before.
Oh! fare thee well, &c.
