I see thy form in fancy's dream.

I see thee in the rosy morn,
Approach as loose-robed beauty's queen;
The morning smiles, but thou art lost,
Too soon is fled the sylvan scene.

Still fancy fondly dwells on thee,
And adds another day of care;
What bliss were mine could fancy paint
Thee true, as she can paint thee fair!

O fly, ye dear deceitful dreams!
Ye silken cords that bind the heart;--
Canst thou, Eliza, these entwine,
And smile and triumph in the smart?

TO A LINNET.

AIR--_"M'Gilchrist's Lament."_

Chaunt no more thy roundelay,
Lovely minstrel of the grove,
Charm no more the hours away,
With thine artless tale of love;
Chaunt no more thy roundelay,
Sad it steals upon mine ear;
Leave, O leave thy leafy spray,
Till the smiling morn appear.

Light of heart, thou quitt'st thy song,
As the welkin's shadows low'r;
Whilst the beetle wheels along,
Humming to the twilight hour.
Not like thee I quit the scene,
To enjoy night's balmy dream;
Not like thee I wake again,
Smiling with the morning beam.

THE PRIMROSE IS BONNY IN SPRING.

AIR--_"The Banks of Eswal."_

The primrose is bonnie in spring,
And the rose it is sweet in June;
It 's bonnie where leaves are green,
I' the sunny afternoon.
It 's bonny when the sun gaes down,
An' glints on the hoary knowe;
It 's bonnie to see the cloud
Sae red in the dazzling lowe.

When the night is a' sae calm,
An' comes the sweet twilight gloom,
Oh! it cheers my heart to meet
My lassie amang the broom,
When the birds in bush and brake,
Do quit their blythe e'enin' sang;
Oh! what an hour to sit
The gay gowden links amang.

THE BONNIE LASS O' WOODHOUSELEE.

AIR--_"Hey the rantin' Murray's Ha'."_

The sun blinks sweetly on yon shaw,
But sweeter far on Woodhouselee,
And dear I like his setting beam
For sake o' ane sae dear to me.
It was na simmer's fairy scenes,
In a' their charming luxury,
But Beauty's sel' that won my heart,
The bonnie lass o' Woodhouselee.

Sae winnin', was her witchin' smile,
Sae piercin', was her coal-black e'e,
Sae sairly wounded was my heart,
That had na wist sic ills to dree;
In vain I strave in beauty's chains,
I c