Volume Ii Part 110 (1/2)

Walter Scott [1771-1832]

”LOUDOUN'S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES”

”Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes, I maun lea' them a', la.s.sie; Wha can thole when Britain's faes Wad gi'e Britons law, la.s.sie?

Wha wad shun the field o' danger?

Wha frae fame wad live a stranger?

Now when freedom bids avenge her, Wha wad shun her ca', la.s.sie?

Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes Hae seen our happy bridal days, And gentle Hope shall soothe thy waes When I am far awa', la.s.sie.”

”Hark! the swelling bugle sings, Yielding joy to thee, laddie, But the dolefu' bugle brings Waefu' thoughts to me, laddie.

Lanely I maun climb the mountain, Lanely stray beside the fountain, Still the weary moments countin', Far frae love and thee, laddie.

O'er the gory fields of war, When Vengeance drives his crimson car, Thou'lt maybe fa', frae me afar, And nane to close thy e'e, laddie.”

”O! resume thy wonted smile!

O! suppress thy fears, la.s.sie!

Glorious honor crowns the toil That the soldier shares, la.s.sie; Heaven will s.h.i.+eld thy faithful lover Till the vengeful strife is over; Then we'll meet nae mair to sever; Till the day we dee, la.s.sie.

'Midst our bonnie woods and braes We'll spend our peaceful, happy days, As blithe's yon lightsome lamb that plays On Loudoun's flowery lea, la.s.sie.”

Robert Tannahill [1774-1810]

”FARE THEE WELL”

Fare thee well and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.

Would that breast were bared before thee Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again:

Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought could show!

Then thou wouldst at last discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so.

Though the world for this commend thee,-- Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe:

Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound?

Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not; Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away:

Still thine own its life retaineth;-- Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And the undying thought which paineth Is--that we no more may meet.

These are words of deeper sorrow Than the wail above the dead; Both shall live, but every morrow Wake us from a widowed bed.

And when thou wouldst solace gather, When our child's first accents flow, Wilt thou teach her to say ”Father!”

Though his care she must forego?