FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   359   360   361   362   363   364   365   366   367   368   369   370   371   372   373   374   375   376   377   378   379   380   381   382   383  
384   385   386   387   388   389   390   391   392   393   394   395   396   397   398   399   400   401   402   403   404   405   406   407   408   >>   >|  
t.-- Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, Bonnie Meg was nature's child; Wiser men than me's beguil'd-- Whistle o'er the lave o't. II. How we live, my Meg and me, How we love, and how we 'gree, I care na by how few may see; Whistle o'er the lave o't.-- Wha I wish were maggot's meat, Dish'd up in her winding sheet, I could write--but Meg maun see't-- Whistle o'er the lave o't. * * * * * LXXVII. O WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL. Tune--"_My love is lost to me._" [The poet welcomed with this exquisite song his wife to Nithsdale: the air is one of Oswald's.] I. O, were I on Parnassus' hill! Or had of Helicon my fill; That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee. But Nith maun be my Muse's well; My Muse maun be thy bonnie sel': On Corsincon I'll glow'r and spell, And write how dear I love thee. II. Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay! For a' the lee-lang simmer's day I coudna sing, I coudna say, How much, how dear, I love thee. I see thee dancing o'er the green, Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean, Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een-- By heaven and earth I love thee! III. By night, by day, a-field, at hame, The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame; And aye I muse and sing thy name-- I only live to love thee. Tho' I were doom'd to wander on Beyond the sea, beyond the sun, Till my last weary sand was run; Till then--and then I love thee. * * * * * LXXVIII. THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY. _To a Gaelic Air._ ["This air," says Burns, "is claimed by Neil Gow, who calls it a Lament for his Brother. The first half-stanza of the song is old: the rest is mine." They are both in the Museum.] I. There's a youth in this city, It were a great pity That he frae our lasses shou'd wander awa: For he's bonnie an' braw, Weel-favour'd an' a', And his hair has a natural buckle an' a'. His coat is the hue Of his bonnet sae blue; His feck it is white as the new-driven snaw; His hose they are blae, And his shoon like the slae. And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'. II. For beauty and fortune The laddie's been
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   359   360   361   362   363   364   365   366   367   368   369   370   371   372   373   374   375   376   377   378   379   380   381   382   383  
384   385   386   387   388   389   390   391   392   393   394   395   396   397   398   399   400   401   402   403   404   405   406   407   408   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

Whistle

 

wander

 
bonnie
 

coudna

 

Brother

 

Lament

 
claimed
 
Museum
 

stanza


LXXVIII

 
Gaelic
 
driven
 
beauty
 

fortune

 

laddie

 

dazzle

 
siller
 

buckles


bonnet

 

lasses

 

Bonnie

 

Beyond

 

nature

 

buckle

 

natural

 

favour

 

winding


poetic

 

Corsincon

 

maggot

 

exquisite

 

welcomed

 

PARNASSUS

 

Nithsdale

 

Helicon

 
Parnassus

Oswald
 

LXXVII

 

heaven

 

tempting

 
roguish
 
thoughts
 

breast

 

inflame

 

inspire


simmer

 
dancing
 

beguil