The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Ii Part 22

ON THEE, ELIZA, DWELL MY THOUGHTS.

AIR--_"In yon garden fine and gay."_

On thee, Eliza, dwell my thoughts, While straying was the moon's pale beam; At midnight, in my wand'ring sleep, 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 h.o.a.ry 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 la.s.sie 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 La.s.s 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 la.s.s 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 cou'd na keep my fancy free, She gat my heart sae in her thrall, The bonnie la.s.s o' Woodhouselee.

The bonnie knowes, sae yellow a', Where aft is heard the hum of bee, The meadow green, and breezy hill, Where lambkins sport sae merrilie, May charm the weary, wand'rin' swain, When e'enin' sun dips in the sea, But a' my heart, baith e'en and morn, Is wi' the la.s.s o' Woodhouselee.

The flowers that kiss the wimplin' burn, And dew-clad gowans on the lea, The water-lily on the lake, Are but sweet emblems a' of thee; And while in simmer smiles they bloom, Sae lovely, and sae fair to see, I 'll woo their sweets, e'en for thy sake, The bonnie la.s.s o' Woodhouselee.

THE SUN IS SETTING ON SWEET GLENGARRY.

The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry, The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; O bonnie la.s.sie, ye maun be my dearie, And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.

Doun yon glen ye never will weary, The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; Bonnie la.s.sie, ye maun be my dearie, And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.

Birds are singing fu' blythe and cheery, The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; Bonnie la.s.sie, on bank sae briery, And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.

In yonder glen there 's naething to fear ye, The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; Ye canna be sad, ye canna be eerie, And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.

The water is wimpling by fu' clearly, The flow'rs are fair and the leaves are green; Oh! ye sall ever be my dearie, And the rose is sweet in the dew at e'en.

HER HAIR WAS LIKE THE CROMLA MIST.

_Gaelic Air._

Her hair was like the Cromla mist, When evening sun beams from the west, Bright was the eye of Morna; When beauty wept the warrior's fall, Then low and dark was Fingal's hall, Sad was the lovely Morna.

O! lovely was the blue-eyed maid That sung peace to the warrior's shade, But none so fair as Morna.

The hallow'd tears bedew'd the brake, That waved beside dark Orna's lake, Where wander'd lovely Morna.

Sad was the h.o.a.ry minstrel's song, That died the rustling heath among, Where sat the lovely Morna; It slumber'd on the placid wave, It echoed through the warrior's cave, And sigh'd again to Morna.

The hero's plumes were lowly laid; In Fingal's hall each blue-eyed maid Sang peace and rest to Morna; The harp's wild strain was past and gone, No more it whisper'd to the moan Of lovely, dying Morna.

O LEEZE ME ON THE BONNIE La.s.s.

AIR--_"Hodgart's Delight."_