And when the time shall come,
At our ain fireside,
That'll lay us in the tomb,
Frae our ain fireside;
Wi' faith that canna shrink,
We'll no tremble on the brink,
When death shall loose the link,
At our ain fireside.
O give me the ear.
[J. Mitchell, Paisley. Air, "Oran an Oig."—This originally appeared in a small book of Proverbs published by Mr. John Neilson of Paisley.]
Oh give me the ear that is deaf to the ills,
Which the slanderer's tongue has in store;
And the eye that the moisture of pity distills,
When the good and the great are no more.
O give me the tongue that disdains to repeat
What envy so glibly will tell,
But responds to our joys when in friendship we meet
Bound the board, care's dark thoughts to dispell.
O give me the heart that can bleed for the woes
Which another is fated to feel—
And the hand that on penury freely bestows,
Yet the gift will as nobly conceal.
Give me these, and I vow in my journey through life,
Care ne'er will a shadow impart;
If Nature bestow on my friend and my wife,
Such an ear, such a tongue, such a heart.
The Lark.
[James Hogg.—Music by Clark.]
Bird of the wilderness,
Blythesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blessed is thy dwelling-place,
Oh! to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud;
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth;
Where on the dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
O'er fell and mountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day;
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, hie, hie thee away.
Then when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
Bird of the wilderness,
Blessed is thy dwelling-place,
Oh! to abide in the desert with thee.
The Tweed.
[W. Alexander.]
"If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright,
Go visit it by the pale moon light."—Scott.
Oh, ha'e ye seen the Tweed while the moon shone bright,
And the stars gemmed the sky wi' their siller light?
If ye ha'ena seen it, then
Half its sweets ye canna ken
Oh, gae back and look again
On a shining night!
Oh, ha'e ye seen the Tweed when the cloister and isle
In the long shadows slept of the mouldering pile?
Oh the fondest canna deem
What that silent scene doth seem
Till beneath pale Cynthia's beam
He hath gazed awhile!
Oh, ha'e ye seen the Tweed when the moon's in the cloud—
When the dark waves are rolling baith fierce and loud?
Oh, beware ilk wizard den,
For in sooth ye mayna ken,
What spirits roam the glen
'Neath their dusky shroud!
