Volume V Part 29 (2/2)

AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER.

Ye mauna be proud, although ye be great, The puirest bodie is still your brither; The king may come in the cadger's gate-- Ae gude turn deserves anither.

The hale o' us rise frae the same cauld clay, Ae hour we bloom, ae hour we wither; Let ilk help ither to climb the brae-- Ae gude turn deserves anither.

The highest among us are unco wee, Frae Heaven we get a' our gifts thegither; h.o.a.rd na, man, what ye get sae free!-- Ae gude turn deserves anither.

Life is a weary journey alane, Blithe 's the road when we wend wi' ither; Mutual gi'ing is mutual gain-- Ae gude turn deserves anither.

THE NAMELESS La.s.sIE.

There 's nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie la.s.sie's name, There 's nane may ken the humble cot my la.s.sie ca's her hame; Yet though my la.s.sie's nameless, an' her kin o' low degree, Her heart is warm, her thochts are pure, and, oh! she 's dear to me.

She 's gentle as she 's bonnie, an' she 's modest as she 's fair, Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they 're rare; While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea-- For happiness an' innocence thegither aye maun be!

Whene'er she shews her blooming face, the flowers may cease to blaw, An' when she opes her hinnied lips, the air is music a'; But when wi' ither's sorrows touch'd, the tear starts to her e'e, Oh! that 's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me.

Within my soul her form 's enshrined, her heart is a' my ain, An' richer prize or purer bliss nae mortal e'er can gain; The darkest paths o' life I tread wi' steps o' bounding glee, Cheer'd onward by the love that lichts my nameless la.s.sie's e'e.

BONNIE BONALY.

Bonnie Bonaly's wee fairy-led stream, Murmurs and sobs like a child in a dream; Falling where silver light gleams on its breast, Gliding through nooks where the dark shadows rest, Flooding with music its own tiny valley, Dances in gladness the stream o' Bonaly.

Proudly Bonaly's gray-brow'd castle towers, Bounded by mountains, and bedded in flowers; Here hangs the blue bell, and there waves the broom; Nurtured by art, rarest garden sweets bloom; Heather and thyme scent the breezes that dally, Playing amang the green knolls o' Bonaly.

Pentland's high hills raise their heather-crown'd crest, Peerless Edina expands her white breast, Beauty and grandeur are blent in the scene, Bonnie Bonaly lies smiling between; Nature and Art, like fair twins, wander gaily; Friends.h.i.+p and love dwell in bonnie Bonaly.

SAFT IS THE BLINK O' THINE E'E, La.s.sIE.

Oh, saft is the blink o' thine e'e, la.s.sie, Saft is the blink o' thine e'e; An' a bonnie wee sun glimmers in its blue orb, As kindly it glints upon me.

The ringlets that twine round thy brow, la.s.sie, Are gowden, as gowden may be; Like the wee curly cluds that play round the sun, When he 's just going to drap in the sea.

Thou hast a bonnie wee mou', la.s.sie, As sweet as a body may pree; And fondly I 'll pree that wee hinny mou', E'en though thou shouldst frown upon me.

Thou hast a lily-white hand, la.s.sie, As fair as a body may see; An' saft is the touch o' that wee genty hand, At e'en when thou partest wi' me.

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