But what are summer's smiles to me
When he nae langer here could stay:
Oh hon an righ, oh hon an righ,
Young Donald frae his love 's away.
For Scotland's crown, and Charlie's right,
The fire-cross o'er our hills did flee,
And loyal swords were glancin' bright,
And Scotia's bluid was warm and free.
And though nae gleam of hope I see,
My prayer is for a brighter day:
Oh hon an righ, oh hon an righ,
Young Donald frae his love's away.
The Wedding Day.
[Written by Dr. Thomas Blacklock, to an old Scotch tune called "How can I be sad on my wedding day."]
One night as young Colin lay musing in bed,
With a heart full of love and a vapourish head;
To wing the dull hours, and his sorrows allay,
Thus sweetly he sang of his wedding day:
"What would I give for a wedding day!
Who would not wish for a wedding day!
Wealth and ambition, I'd toss ye away,
With all ye can boast, for a wedding day.
Should heaven bid my wishes with freedom implore
One bliss for the anguish I suffered before,
For Jessy, dear Jessy, alone I would pray,
And grasp my whole wish on my wedding day!
Blessed be the approach of my wedding day!
Hail, my dear nymph and my wedding day!
Earth smile more verdant, and heaven shine more gay!
For happiness dawns with my wedding day."
But Luna, who equally sovereign presides
O'er the hearts of the ladies and flow of the tides,
Unhappily changing, soon changed his wife's mind:
O fate, could a wife prove so constant and kind!
"Why was I born to a wedding day!
Cursed, ever cursed be my wedding day."
Colin, poor Colin thus changes his lay,
And dates all his plagues from his wedding day.
We bachelors, warned by the shepherd's distress,
Be taught from your freedom to measure your bliss,
Nor fall to the witchcraft of beauty a prey,
And blast all your joys on your wedding day.
Horns are the gift of a wedding day;
Want and a scold crown a wedding day;
Happy and gallant, who, wise when he may
Prefers a stout rope to a wedding day!
Caledonia.
[John Imlah. Set to Music by Peter Macleod.]
The lamp o' day its radiance threw
Far o'er the Grampian mountains blue,
'Mid burning clouds, when last adieu
I bade to Caledonia.
And as I mark'd the mountains high,
Like vapour melt 'tween sea and sky,
Deep breath'd my heart a prayer and sigh
For native Caledonia.
I love the streams, I love the linn,
That foamin' fa's wi' deaf'nin' din,
The bick'rin' burns that rowe within
The glens of Caledonia.
The lochs sae peaceful, lone, profound,
The misty mountains tow'ring round,
Whose echoing rocks at eve resound
The songs of Caledonia.
Love inviting Reason.
[From the first vol. of the Tea-Table Miscellany (1724), where it appears without a mark, but probably written by Ramsay himself.—Tune, "Chami ma chattle, ne duce skar mi."]
When innocent pastime our pleasures did crown,
Upon a green meadow, or under a tree,
Ere Annie became a fine lady in town,
How lovely, and loving, and bonnie was she!
House up thy reason, my beautiful Annie,
Let ne'er a new whim ding thy fancy ajee;
Oh! as thou art bonnie, be faithfu' and cannie,
And favour thy Jamie wha doats upon thee.
