The Book of Scottish Song/An thou were my ain thing

An thou were my ain thing.

[The fine air "An thou were my ain thing" is to be found in Gordon of Straloch's MS. Lute Book, written at Aberdeen in 1627. How much older it may be cannot be determined. The following song (with the exception of the first verse, "I would clasp," &c.) appears in the first volume of the Tea-Table Miscellany, where it is marked with an X, implying that it is by an unknown author. The first verse is to be found in the Orpheus Caledonius.]

An thou were my ain thing,
I would lo'e thee, I would lo'e thee;
An thou were my ain thing,
How dearly would I lo'e thee!

I would clasp thee in my arms,
I'd secure thee from all harms;
For above mortal thou hast charms:
How dearly do I lo'e thee!
An thou were, &c.

Of race divine thou needs must be,
Since nothing earthly equals thee,
So I must still presumptuous be,
To show how much I lo'e thee.
An thou were, &c.

The gods one thing peculiar have,
To ruin none whom they can save;
O, for their sake, support a slave,
Who only lives to lo'e thee.
An thou were, &c.

To merit I no claim can make,
But that I lo'e, and, for your sake,
What man can more, I'll undertake,
So dearly do I lo'e thee.
An thou were, &c.

My passion, constant as the sun,
Flames stronger still, will ne'er have done,
Till fates my thread of life have spun,
Which breathing out, I'll lo'e thee.
An thou were, &c.

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[Continuation by Ramsay, from Tea-Table Miscellany.]

Like bees that suck the morning dew,
Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue,
Sae wad I dwell upo' thy mou',
And gar the gods envy me.
An thou were, &c.

Sae lang's I had the use of light,
I'd on thy beauties feast my sight,
Syne in soft whispers through the night,
I'd tell how much I loo'd thee.
An thou were, &c.

How fair and ruddy is my Jean,
She moves a goddess o'er the green;
Were I a king, thou should be queen,
Nane but mysel' aboon thee.
An thou were, &c.

I'd grasp thee to this breast of mine,
Whilst thou, like ivy, or the vine,
Around my stronger limbs should twine,
Form'd hardy to defend thee.
An thou were, &c.

Time's on the wing, and will not stay,
In shining youth let's make our hay,
Since love admits of nae delay,
O let nae scorn undo thee.
An thou were, &c.

While love does at his altar stand,
Ha'e there's my heart, gi'e me thy hand,
And with ilk smile thou shalt command
The will of him wha loves thee.
An thou were, &c.

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