I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,
Gin I ha'e been to thee
As closely twined wi' earliest thochts
As ye ha'e been to me?
Oh! tell me gin their music fills
Thine ear as it does mine;
Oh! say gin e'er your heart grows grit
Wi' dreamings o' langsyne?
I've wander'd east, I've wander'd west,
I've borne a weary lot;
But in my wanderings, far or near,
Ye never were forgot.
The fount that first burst frae this heart,
Still travels on its way;
And channels deeper as it rins
The luve o' life's young day.
O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,
Since we were sinder'd young,
I've never seen your face, nor heard
The music o' your tongue;
But I could hug all wretchedness,
And happy could I die,
Did I but ken your heart still dream'd
O' bygane days and me!
Blue-eyed Anne.
[Written by the celebrated Dr. Smollett. The subject of these verses is thought to have been Miss Anne Lascelles, whom the author met with in the West Indies, and afterwards made his wife]
When the rough north forgets to howl,
And ocean's billows cease to roll;
When Lybian sands are bound in frost,
And cold to Nova Zembla's lost;
When heavenly bodies cease to move,
My blue-eyed Anne I'll cease to love.
No more shall flowers the meads adorn,
Nor sweetness deck the rosy thorn,
Nor swelling buds proclaim the spring,
Nor parching heats the dog-star bring,
Nor laughing lilies paint the grove,
When blue-eyed Anne I cease to love.
No more shall joy in hope be found,
Nor pleasures dance their frolic round,
Nor love's light god inhabit earth,
Nor beauty give the passion birth,
Nor heat to summer-sunshine cleave,
When blue-eyed Nanny I deceive.
When rolling seasons cease to change,
Inconstancy forgets to range;
When lavish May no more shall bloom,
Nor gardens yield a rich perfume,
When nature from her sphere shall start,
I'll tear my Nanny from my heart.
Such a parcel of rogues.
[Written by Burns, for Johnson's Museum, to the tune of "Such a parcel of rogues in a nation." The song refers to the disgraceful manner in which the union of Scotland with England was effected, by the bribery of many of the Scottish nobles. The beneficial effects of the Union were long in developing themselves—indeed, for nearly the first fifty years, Scotland was positively injured by it; but, apart from this, Burns, like all true-hearted Scotsmen, could never think of the loss of his country's independence without a sigh of regret.]
Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel even to the Scottish name,
Sae fam'd in martial story!
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,
And Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England's province stands:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
What force or guile could not subdue,
Thro' many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitors' wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station;
But English gold has been our bane:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
O would, ere I had seen the day
That treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll make this declaration,
We're bought and sold for English gold:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
