How bright is summer's beauty!
When, smilin' far an' near,
The wildest spots o' nature
Their gayest livery wear:
And yellow-cups, an' daisies
Are spread on ilka lea;
But the bonnie Redesdale lassie
Mair charming is to me.
O! sweet is mellow autumn!
When, wide owre a' the plain,
Slow waves in rustlin' motion
The heavy-headed grain;
Or in the sunshine glancin',
And rowin' like the sea;
Yet the bonnie Redesdale lassie
Is dearer far to me!
As heaven itsel', her bosom
Is free o' fraud or guile;
What hope o' future pleasure
Is centred in her smile!
I wadna lose for kingdoms
The love-glance o' her e'e;—
O! the bonnie Redesdale lassie
Is life and a' to me!
O Jeanie.
[Composed by the Ettrick Shepherd, to the tune of "Blue Bonnets over the Border." He himself says, it was "the most popular love song he ever wrote," but we think he is here mistaken.]
O! my lassie, our joy to complete again,
Meet me again in the gloamin', my dearie;
Low down i' the dell let us meet again,
O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.
Come when the wee bat flits silent an eerie;
Come when the pale face o' nature looks weary.
Love be thy sure defence,
Beauty and innocence—
O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.
Sweetly blows the haw and the rowan-tree,
Wild roses speck our thicket sae breerie;
Still, still will our bed in the greenwood be—
O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye;
Note when tha blackbird o' singing grows weary,
List when the beetle bee's bugle comes near ye:
Then come with fairy haste,
Light foot and beating breast—
O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.
Far, far will the bogle an' brownie be;
Beauty an' truth, they daurna come near it
Kind love is the tie of our unity;
A' maun love it, and a' maun revere it.
Love mak's the sang o' the woodland sae cheerie;
Love gars a' nature look bonnie that's near ye;
Love mak's the rose sae sweet,
Cowslip an' violet—
O! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.
The Shepherd's Song.
[Written by Joanna Baillie, and printed, though probably not for the first time, in the Harp of Caledonia, vol. II. published at Glasgow in 1818.]
The gowan glitters on the sward,
The lav'rock's in the sky,
And Colley on my plaid keeps ward,
And time is passing bye.
Oh, no! sad an' slow!
I hear nae welcome sound;
The shadow of our trystin' bush.
It wears sae slowly round!
My sheep-bell tinkles frae the west,
My lambs are bleating near,
But still the sound that I lo'e best,
Alack! I canna hear.
Oh, no! sad an' slow!
The shadow lingers still;
And like a lanely ghaist I stand,
And croon upon the hill.
I hear below the water roar,
The mill wi' clackin' din;
And Lucky scolding frae her door,
To bring the bairnies in.
Oh, no! sad an' slow!
These are nae sounds for me;
The shadow of our trystin' bush,
It creeps sae drearily.
