The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume V Part 17

MY SOUL IS EVER WITH THEE.

My soul is ever with thee, My thoughts are ever with thee, As the flower to the sun, as the lamb to the lea, So turns my fond spirit to thee.

'Mid the cares of the lingering day, When troubles around me be, Fond Fancy for aye will be flitting away-- Away, my beloved, to thee.

When the night-pall darkly spread O'er shadows, tower, and tree, Then the visions of my restless bed Are all, my beloved, of thee.

When I greet the morning beams, When the midnight star I see, Alone--in crowded halls--my dreams-- My dreams are for ever of thee.

As spring to the leafless spray, As calm to the surging sea, To the weary, rest--to the watcher, day-- So art thou, loved Mary, to me.

AULD JOHNNY GRAHAM.

Dear Aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham?

The carle sae pawkie an' slee!

He wants a bit wifie to tend his bein hame, An' the body has ettled at me.

Wi' bonnet sae vaunty, an owerlay sae clean, An' ribbon that waved 'boon his bree, He cam' doun the cleugh at the gloamin' yestreen, An' rappit, an' soon speert for me.

I bade him come ben whare my minny sae thrang Was birlin' her wheel eidentlie, An', foul fa' the carle, he was na' that lang, Ere he tauld out his errand to me.

"Hech, Tibby, la.s.s! a' yon braid acres o' land, Wi' ripe c.r.a.ps that wave bonnilie, An' meikle mair gear shall be at yer command, Gin' ye will look kindly on me.

"Yon herd o' fat owsen that rout i' the glen, Sax naigies that nibble the lea; The kye i' the sheugh, and the sheep i' the pen, I'se gie a', dear Tibby, to thee.

"An', la.s.sie, I've goupins o' gowd in a stockin', An' pearlin's wad dazzle yer e'e; A mettl'd, but canny young yaud, for the yokin', When ye wad gae jauntin' wi' me.

"I 'll hap ye, and fend ye, and busk ye, and tend ye, And mak' ye the licht o' my e'e; I 'll comfort and cheer ye, and daut ye and dear ye, As couthy as couthy can be.

"I 've lo'ed ye, dear la.s.sie, since first, a bit bairn, Ye ran up the knowe to meet me; An' deckit my bonnet wi' blue bells an' fern, Wi' meikle glad laughin' an' glee.

"An' noo woman grown, an' mensefu', an' fair, An' gracefu' as gracefu' can be-- Will ye tak' an' auld carle wha ne'er had a care For woman, dear Tibby, but thee?"

Sae, Aunty, ye see I 'm a' in a swither, What answer the bodie to gie-- But aften I wish he wad tak' my auld mither, And let puir young Tibby abee.

JEAN LINN.

Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie, ma doo!

Oh, haud na' yer noddle sae hie!

The days that hae been, may be yet again seen, Sae look na sae lightly on me, ma doo!

Sae look na' sae lightly on me!

Oh, geck na' at hame hodden gray, Jean Linn!

Oh, geck na' at hame hodden gray!

Yer gutcher an mine wad thocht themsels fine, In cleedin' sae bein, bonnie May, bonnie May-- In cleedin' sae bein, bonnie May.

Ye mind when we won in Whinglen, Jean Linn-- Ye mind when we won in Whinglen, Your daddy, douce carle, was cotter to mine, An' our herd was yer bonnie sel', then, Jean Linn, An' our herd was yer bonnie sel', then.

Oh, then ye were a' thing to me, Jean Linn, Oh, then ye were a' thing to me!

An' the moments scour'd by, like birds through the sky, When tentin' the owsen wi' thee, Jean Linn, When tentin' the owsen wi' thee.

I twined ye a bower by the burn, Jean Linn, I twined ye a bower by the burn, But dreamt na that hour, as we sat in that bower, That fortune wad tak' sic a turn, Jean Linn.

That fortune wad tak' sic a turn.

Ye busk noo in satins fu' braw, Jean Linn!

Ye busk noo in satins fu' braw!

Yer daddy's a laird, mine 's i' the kirkyard, An' I 'm yer puir ploughman, Jock Law, Jean Linn, An' I 'm yer puir ploughman, Jock Law.

BONNIE MARY.

When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down, I 'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down; I 'll row my ap.r.o.n up, an' I 'll leave the reeky town, And meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down.

By the burnie there 's a bower, we will gently lean us there, An' forget in ither's arms every earthly care, For the chiefest o' my joys, in this weary mortal roun', Is the burnside wi' Mary when the sun gaes down.

When the sun gaes down, &c.

There the ruin'd castle tower on the distant steep appears, Like a h.o.a.ry auld warrior faded with years; An' the burnie stealing by wi' a fairy silver soun', Will soothe us wi' its music when the sun gaes down.

When the sun gaes down, &c.

The burnside is sweet when the dew is on the flower, But 'tis like a little heaven at the trystin' hour; And with pity I would look on the king who wears the crown, When wi' thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down.

When the sun gaes down, &c.

When the sun gaes down, when the sun gaes down, I 'll meet thee by the burnie, when the sun gaes down; Come in thy petticoatie, and thy little drugget gown, And I 'll meet thee, bonnie Mary, when the sun gaes down.

MRS MARY MACARTHUR.

Mrs Mary Waugh, the widow of Mr James Macarthur, merchant, Glasgow, published in 1842 a duodecimo volume of verses, with the t.i.tle, "The Necropolis, and other Poems." One of the compositions in that publication, ent.i.tled "The Missionary," is inserted in the present work, as being worthy of a place among the productions of the national Muse.

In early life Mrs Macarthur lived in the south of Scotland; she has for many years been resident in Glasgow.