86

Hark, the swelling bugle rings,
Yielding joy to thee, laddie;
But the dolefu' bugle brings

Waefu' thochts to me, laddie.
Lanely I may climb the mountain,
Lanely stray beside the fountain,
Still the weary moments counting,
Far frae love and thee, laddie.
Ower the gory fields o' war,

Where vengeance drives his crimson car,
Thou may fa' frae me afar,

And nane to close thy ee, laddie."

Oh, resume thy wonted smile,

Oh, suppress thy fears, lassie;
Glorious honour crowns the toil
That the soldier shares, lassie.
Heaven will shield thy faithful lover
Till the vengeful strife is over;
Then we'll meet nae mair to sever,
Till the day we dee, lassie.

'Midst our bonnie woods and braes
We'll spend our peaceful, happy days,
As blythe's yon lichtsome lamb that plays
On Loudon's flowery lea, lassie.

WHAT AILS THIS HEART?

SUSANNA BLAMIRE.

Air-" Sir James Baird's favourite," or "My dearie, an' thou dee."

WHAT ails this heart o' mine?

What ails this watery ee?

What gars me a' turn cauld as death

When I take leave o' thee?

When thou art far awa',

Thou'lt dearer grow to me;

But change o' place and change o' folk
May gar thy fancy jee.

When I gae out at e'en,

Or walk at morning air,
Ilk rustling bush will seem to say,
I used to meet thee there.
Then I'll sit down and cry,

And live aneath the tree,
And when a leaf fa's i' my lap,

I'll ca't a word frae thee.

I'll hie me to the bower

That thou wi' roses tied,

And where wi' mony a blushing bud I strove mysel❜ to hide.

I'll doat on ilka spot

Where I hae been wi' thee, And ca' to mind some kindly word

By ilka burn and tree.

Wi' sic thoughts i' my mind,

Time through the world may gae, And find my heart in twenty years The same as 'tis to-day,

'Tis thoughts that bind the soul,
And keep friends i' the ee ;
And gin I think I see thee aye,
What can part thee and me?

THE WAEFU' HEART.

SUSANNA BLAMIRE. Published 1788.

GIN livin' worth could win my heart,
You would not speak in vain ;
But in the darksome grave it's laid,
Never to rise again.

My waefu' heart lies low wi' his,
Whose heart was only mine;
Oh, what a heart was that to lose!
But I maun no repine.

Yet, oh, gin Heaven in mercy soon
Would grant the boon I crave,
And take this life, now naething worth,
Sin' Jamie's in his grave!

And see, his gentle spirit comes,

To show me on my way;
Surprised, nae doubt, I still am here,
Sair wondering at my stay.

I come, I come, my Jamie dear,
And, oh, wi' what guid will
I follow wheresoe'er ye lead,
Ye canna lead to ill.-

She said, and soon a deadly pale
Her faded cheek possess'd;
Her waefu' heart forgot to beat,

Her sorrows sunk to rest.

This excellent song is erroneously stated, in the notes to the collection of melodies published in Glasgow in 1841, under the title of "The Garland of Scotia," to be the production of one Jeanie Ferguson.

AND YE SHALL WALK IN SILK ATTIRE.

SUSANNA BLAMIRE. From the "Musical Museum," 1790.
Air-"The siller crown."

For I hae pledged my virgin troth
Brave Donald's fate to share,
And he has gi'en to me his heart,
Wi' a' its virtues rare.

His gentle manners wan my heart,
He gratefu' took the gift;
Could I but think to see it back,

It wad be waur than theft.
For langest life can ne'er repay
The love he bears to me;

And ere I'm forced to break my troth,
I'll lay me down and dee.

I WINNA GANG BACK.

RICHARD GALL, born 1776, died 1801.

I WINNA gang back to my mammy again,
I'll never gae back to my mammy again;
I've held by her apron these aught years an' ten,
But I'll never gang back to my mammy again.
I've held by her apron, &c.

Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo,
Wi' plaidie sae bonnie an' bonnet sae blue:
"Oh, come awa', lassie, ne'er let mammy ken;"
An' I flew wi' my laddie o'er meadow an' glen.
Oh, come awa', lassie, &c.

He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his dow,
An' press'd hame his words wi' a smack o' my mou';
While I fell on his bosom, heart-flichter'd an' fain,
An' sigh'd out, "O Johnnie, I'll aye be your ain !"
While I fell on his bosom, &c.

Some lasses will talk to the lads wi' their ee, Yet hanker to tell what their hearts really dree; Wi' Johnnie I stood upon nae stappin'-stane, Sae I'll never gang back to my mammy again. Wi' Johnnie I stood, &c.

For mony lang year sin' I play'd on the lea,
My mammy was kind as a mither could be;
I've held by her apron these aught years an' ten,
But I'll never gang back to my mammy again.
I've held by her apron, &c.

FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.

RICHARD GALL.

SCENES of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Scenes that former thoughts renew,
Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure,
Now a sad and last adieu!

Bonnie Doon, sae sweet at gloamin',
Fare thee weel before I gang;
Bonnie Doon, whare, early roaming,
First I weaved the rustic sang.

Bowers, adieu! whare love decoying
First enthrall'd this heart o' mine;
There the saftest sweets enjoying,
Sweets that memory ne'er shall tine.
Friends, sae near my bosom ever,

Ye hae render'd moments dear;
But, alas, when forced to sever,

Then the stroke, oh, how severe !

Friends, that parting tear, reserve it,
Though 'tis doubly dear to me;
Could I think I did deserve it,

How much happier would I be!