Till at times—could I help it—I pined and I ponder'd,
If love could change notes like the bird on the tree—
Now I'll never ask if thine eyes may ha'e wander'd,
Enough, thy leal heart has been constant to me.
Welcome, from sweeping o'er sea and through channel,
Hardships and danger despising for fame,
Furnishing story for glory's bright annal,
Welcome, my wanderer, to Jeanie and hame!
Enough, now thy story in annals of glory
Has humbled the pride of France, Holland, and Spain;
No more shalt thou grieve me, no more shalt thou leave me,
I never will part with my Willie again.
Her bonnie black e'e.
[William Laidlaw, author of "Lucy's flitting."]
On the banks o' the burn while I pensively wander,
The mavis sings sweetly, unheeded by me;
I think on my lassie, her gentle mild nature,
I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.
When heavy the rain fa's, and loud loud the win' blaws,
An' simmer's gay cleedin' drives fast frae the tree;
I heedna the win" nor the rain when I think on
The kind lovely smile o' my lassie's black e'e.
When swift as the hawk, in the stormy November,
The cauld norlan' win' ca's the drift owre the lea;
Though bidin' its blast on the side o' the mountain,
I think on the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.
When braw at a weddin' I see the fine lasses,
Tho' a' neat an' bonnie, they're naething to me;
I sigh an' sit dowie, regardless what passes,
When I miss the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.
When thin twinklin' sternies announce the grey gloamin',
When a' round the ingle's sae cheerie to see;
Then music delightfu', saft on the heart stealin',
Minds me o' the smile o' her bonnie black e'e.
When jokin', an' laughin', the lave they are merry,
Tho' absent me heart like the lave I maun be;
Sometimes I laugh wi' them, but oft I turn dowie,
An' think on the smile o' my lassie's black e'e.
Her lovely fair form frae my mind's awa' never,
She's dearer than a' this hale warld to me;
An' this is my wish, May I leave it, if ever
She row on another her love-beaming e'e.
While some to distant.
[Rev. J. Nicol.]
While some to distant regions sail
Through storms that on the ocean roar;
Or dye wi' blude the flowerie vale,
Where love and pleasure reign'd before;
Or, o' stern poverty afraid,
Their countless sums o' gowd conceal
I joyfu' sing the bonnie maid,
The bonnie maid I lo'e sae weel.
Did e'er the roses on the green,
Or lilies, bath'd in mornin' dew,
Attract thy sight?—Then thou hast seen,
Her dimplin' cheek's untainted hue:
The momin' star didst thou e'er see
In skies which not a cloud conceal?
Then thou beheldst the sparklin' e'e
O' the sweet maid I lo'e sae weel.
My fleecy flock I'll tend secure;
My little orchard dress wi' care;
Wi' blushin' flowerets deck my bower,
A pleasant dwellin' for my fair.
O! wad she spend her days wi' me,
What joy, what happiness I'd feel!
The pleasure o' my life wad be
To please the maid I lo'e sae weel.
But if my simple vow she slight,—
That mournfu' day, ah! shall I view!—
I'll bid adieu to sweet delight!
To love and beauty bid adieu!
I'll seek some solitary shade,
My ceaseless sorrow to conceal!
But still I'll bless the bonnie maid,—
The bonnie maid I lo'ed sae weel!
