The Complete Works of Robert Burns Part 156

I.

Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee: Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'.

II.

Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, The desert were a paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there: Or were I monarch o' the globe, Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

CCXXIII.

HERE IS THE GLEN.

Tune--"_Banks of Cree._"

[Of the origin of this song the poet gives the following account. "I got an air, pretty enough, composed by Lady Elizabeth Heron, of Heron, which she calls 'The Banks of Cree.' Cree is a beautiful romantic stream: and as her ladyship is a particular friend of mine, I have written the following song to it."]

I.

Here is the glen, and here the bower, All underneath the birchen shade; The village-bell has told the hour-- O what can stay my lovely maid?

II.

'Tis not Maria's whispering call; 'Tis but the balmy-breathing gale, Mix'd with some warbler's dying fall, The dewy star of eve to hail.

III.

It is Maria's voice I hear!

So calls the woodlark in the grove, His little, faithful mate to cheer, At once 'tis music--and 'tis love.

IV.

And art thou come? and art thou true?

O welcome, dear to love and me!

And let us all our vows renew Along the flow'ry banks of Cree.

CCXXIV.

ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY.

Tune--"_O'er the hills," &c._

["The last evening," 29th of August, 1794, "as I was straying out,"

says Burns, "and thinking of 'O'er the hills and far away,' I spun the following stanzas for it. I was pleased with several lines at first, but I own now that it appears rather a flimsy business. I give you leave to abuse this song, but do it in the spirit of Christian meekness."]

I.

How can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad?

How can I the thought forego, He's on the seas to meet the foe?

Let me wander, let me rove, Still my heart is with my love: Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, Are with him that's far away.

On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, Are ay with him that's far away.

II.

When in summer's noon I faint, As weary flocks around me pant, Haply in this scorching sun My sailor's thund'ring at his gun: Bullets, spare my only joy!

Bullets, spare my darling boy!

Fate, do with me what you may-- Spare but him that's far away!

III.

At the starless midnight hour, When winter rules with boundless power: As the storms the forests tear, And thunders rend the howling air, Listening to the doubling roar, Surging on the rocky sh.o.r.e, All I can--I weep and pray, For his weal that's far away.

IV.

Peace, thy olive wand extend, And bid wild war his ravage end, Man with brother man to meet, And as a brother kindly greet: Then may heaven with prosp'rous gales, Fill my sailor's welcome sails, To my arms their charge convey-- My dear lad that's far away.

On the seas and far away On stormy seas and far away; Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, Are ay with him that's far away.

CCXXV.

CA' THE YOWES.

[Burns formed this song upon an old lyric, an amended version of which he had previously communicated to the Museum: he was fond of musing in the shadow of Lincluden towers, and on the banks of Cluden Water.]

I.

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, Ca' them whare the heather growes, Ca' them whare the burnie rowes-- My bonnie dearie!

Hark the mavis' evening sang Sounding Cluden's woods amang!

Then a faulding let us gang, My bonnie dearie.

II.