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Thy sharpest dart has pierc'd my heart,
An' ta'en frae me my Jeany, 0.
I'll nae mair strive, while I'm alive,
For aught but missin' slavery, 0;
A mass o' lust an' knavery, 0 :
An' frae oblivion screen me, 0;
An' farewell bonny Jeany, 0!
HERE, FIX'D BY CHOICE.
HERE, fix'd by choice, too long I staid
Beside the lovely Flora ;
The cause of all my sorrow.
My passion fast augmenting, Till she with Campbell cross'd the main,
And left her love lamenting.
No curses on her head I'll crave;
My blessing still attend her: Whene'er I offer up my vows,
My dear I'll ay remember.
Though mountains rise, and rivers roll,
And oceans rage between us,
Through all the Carolinas.
Nor absence, time, nor balmy rest,
Nor grief, nor tears, can ease me; I feel the time approaching fast
When a clay-cold bed will please me. Then rest my head upon yon hill,
Where blows the blooming heather, There first at Flora's feet I fell :
There oft we sat together!
How happy would my charmer seem !
How sorry when I left her!
With him that sway'd the sceptre.
From bliss no bounds to bar me: Now dismal shades and dreary shores
With rueful murmurs scare me.
There was a time, no more I'll see,
I spent in mirth and ranging; There was time when I was gay,
But times are always changing. The times shall change, and moons shall wane,
Yet I in love still languish;
My tender heárt must break in twain,
Since nought can ease mine anguish.
I'M GANE A' WRANG, JAMIE.
TUNE-Upan' waur them a', Willie.
“O WHAT maks you sae dowie, lassie ?
What maks you sae cheerless ? For wit, an' fun, an harmless glee,
My Peggy ay was peerless. Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy, Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy, Ye've lost a frien', or catch'd the spleen,
Or for some lad thought lang, Peggy."
“Yes, I hae catch'd a weary spleen
Has banish'd a' my mirth, Jamie ;
That e'er I ken'd on earth, Jamie.
Ayont an unco man, Jamie."
" Ah, waes my heart for what ye've done !
Ye canna hide it lang, Peggy;
How could ye use your love sae ill ?
Ye have done a' wrang, Peggy.
An' ay ere it was lang, Peggy.
“I'm unco wae to tak my leave;
But that's the thing maun be, Peggy I'll never like a lass sae weel,
Sin' I hae done wi' thee, Peggy. Ye're gane a' wrang, Peggy,
a' wrang, Peggy, Ye promis’d aft to marry me,
An' ay ere it was lang, Peggy."
“I weel deserve my hapless lot,
Ye war sae kind an' true, Jamie ;
How I've misused you, Jamie.
Ayont an unco man, Jamie.'
“My dear, I ken ye've done amiss ;
But blame was far frae thee, Peggy : I'll tell you what will gar you blush
The unco man was me Peggy.
We've done a' wrang, Peggy,
An' wed ere it be lang, Peggy.
THE HAY MAKERS.
TUNE-Coming through the Rye.
• My lassie, how I'm charm'd wi' you
'Tis needless now to tell ; Rut a' the flowers the meadow through,
Ye're sweetest ay yoursel' : I canna sleep a wink by night,
Nor think a thought by day ; Your image smiles afore my sight
Whate'er I do or say."
“Fye, Jamie ! dinna act the part
Ye'll ever blush to own;
Frae reason's sober throne :
Nor ony wakin' dream; Then trust sic fiery furious love
I'd rather hae esteem.".