THE LASS OF BRANKSOME

O, the deil's in the lasses! they gang now sae braw,

They'll lie down wi' auld men o' fourscore and twa:

The haill o' their marriage is gowd and a carriage;

Plain love is the cauldest blast now that can blaw.

Auld dotards, be wary! tak' tent wha you marry;

Young wives, wi' their coaches, they'll whip and they'll ca',

Till they meet with some Johnnie that's youthfu' and bonnie,

And they'll gi'e ye horns on ilk haffet to claw.

XVI

THE LASS OF BRANKSOME

(ALLAN RAMSAY)

As I came in by Teviot side,

And by the braes of Branksome,
There first I saw my bonnie bride,

Young, smiling, sweet, and handsome;
Her skin was softer than the down,
And white as alabaster;

Her hair a shining wavy brown;
In straightness nane surpast her.

THE LASS OF BRANKSOME

Life glow'd upon her lip and cheek,
Her clear een were surprising,
And beautifully turn'd her neck,
Her little breasts just rising;
Nae silken hose with gushets fine,
Or shoon with glancing laces,
On her fair leg forbad to shine,
Well shapen native graces.

Ae little coat, and bodice white,
Was sum o' a' her claithing;-
Even these o'er mickle-mair delyte
She'd given cled wi' naething.
She lean'd upon a flow'ry brae,
By which a burnie trotted;
On her I glowr'd my saul away,
While on her sweets I doated.

A thousand beauties of desert

Before had scarce alarm'd me,
Till this dear artless struck my heart,
And but designing, charm'd me.
Hurried by love, close to my breast
I grasp'd this fund of blisses;

Wha smil'd, and said, "Without a priest,
Sir, hope for nought but kisses."

I had nae heart to do her harm,
And yet I couldna want her;
What she demanded, ilka charm
Of hers pled, I should grant her.

ROSLIN CASTLE

Since heaven had dealt to me a routh, Straight to the kirk I led her,

There plighted her my faith and troth, And a young lady made her.

XVII

ROSLIN CASTLE

(RICHARD HEWITT)

'Twas in that season of the year,
When all things gay and sweet appear,
That Colin with the morning ray,
Arose and sung his rural lay.

Of Nanny's charms the shepherd sung,
The hills and dales with Nanny rung,
While Roslin Castle heard the swain,
And echoed back the cheerful strain.

Awake sweet muse! the breathing spring
With rapture warms; awake and sing!
Awake and join the vocal throng,
Who hail the morning with a song.
To Nanny raise the cheerful lay,
O! bid her haste and come away,
In sweeter smiles herself adorn,
And add new graces to the morn.

ROSLIN CASTLE

O hark, my love, on ev'ry spray
Each feather'd warbler tunes his lay:
'Tis beauty fires the ravish'd throng,
And love inspires the melting song.
Then let my raptur'd notes arise,
For beauty darts from Nanny's eyes,
And love my rising bosom warms,
And fills my soul with sweet alarms.

O come, my love! thy Colin's lay,
With rapture calls, O come away,

Come while the muse this wreath shall

twine

Around that modest brow of thine.

O hither haste, and with thee bring
That beauty blooming like the spring,
Those graces that divinely shine

And charm this ravish'd breast of mine!

O GIN MY LOVE WERE YON RED ROSE

XVIII

O GIN MY LOVE WERE YON RED

ROSE

(From Herd's MS.)

O GIN my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel' a drap of dew,

Down on that red rose I would fa'.

O my love's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie;
My love's bonnie and fair to see:
Whene'er I look on her well-far'd face,

She looks and smiles again to me.

O gin my love were a pickle of wheat,
And growing upon yon lily lee,

And I mysel' a bonnie wee bird,

Awa' wi' that pickle o' wheat I wad flee.

O my love's bonnie, &c.

O gin my love were a coffer o' gowd,
And I the keeper of the key,

I wad open the kist whene'er I list,
And in that coffer I wad be.

O my love's bonnie, &c.