Delphi Complete Works of Robert Burns (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) (77 page)
Read Delphi Complete Works of Robert Burns (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Online
Authors: Robert Burns
483.
AH, Chloris, since it may not be,
That thou of love wilt hear;
If from the lover thou maun flee,
Yet let the friend be dear.
Altho’ I love my Chloris mair
5
Than ever tongue could tell;
My passion I will ne’er declare —
I’ll say, I wish thee well.
Tho’ a’ my daily care thou art,
And a’ my nightly dream,
10
I’ll hide the struggle in my heart,
And say it is esteem.
484.
Saw you my dear, my Philly (Song)
Tune
— “When she cam’ ben she bobbit.”
O SAW ye my Dear, my Philly?
O saw ye my Dear, my Philly,
She’s down i’ the grove, she’s wi’ a new Love,
She winna come hame to her Willy.
What says she my dear, my Philly?
5
What says she my dear, my Philly?
She lets thee to wit she has thee forgot,
And forever disowns thee, her Willy.
O had I ne’er seen thee, my Philly!
O had I ne’er seen thee, my Philly!
10
As light as the air, and fause as thou’s fair,
Thou’s broken the heart o’ thy Willy.
485.
How lang and dreary is the night (Song)
HOW lang and dreary is the night
When I am frae my Dearie;
I restless lie frae e’en to morn
Though I were ne’er sae weary.
Chorus.
— For oh, her lanely nights are lang!
5
And oh, her dreams are eerie;
And oh, her window’d heart is sair,
That’s absent frae her Dearie!
When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi’ thee, my Dearie;
10
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I be but eerie?
For oh, &c.
How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
The joyless day how dreary:
15
It was na sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi’ my Dearie!
For oh, &c.
486.
Tune
— “Duncan Gray.”
LET not Woman e’er complain
Of inconstancy in love;
Let not Woman e’er complain
Fickle Man is apt to rove:
Look abroad thro’ Nature’s range,
5
Nature’s mighty Law is change,
Ladies, would it not seem strange
Man should then a monster prove!
Mark the winds, and mark the skies,
Ocean’s ebb, and ocean’s flow,
10
Sun and moon but set to rise,
Round and round the seasons go.
Why then ask of silly Man
To oppose great Nature’s plan?
We’ll be constant while we can —
15
You can be no more, you know.
487.
The Lover’s Morning Salute to his Mistress
Tune
— “Deil tak the wars.”
SLEEP’ST thou, or wak’st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi’ the tears o’ joy.
Now, to the streaming fountain,
5
Or up the heathy mountain,
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
In twining hazel bowers,
Its lay the linnet pours,
The laverock to the sky
10
Ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
Phoebus gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature, gladdening and adorning;
15
Such to me my lovely maid.
When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night’s gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast my sky:
But when she charms my sight,
20
In pride of Beauty’s light —
When thro’ my very heart
Her burning glories dart;
‘Tis then—’tis then I wake to life and joy!
488.
BUT lately seen in gladsome green,
The woods rejoic’d the day,
Thro’ gentle showers, the laughing flowers
In double pride were gay:
But now our joys are fled
5
On winter blasts awa;
Yet maiden May, in rich array,
Again shall bring them a’.
But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of Age;
10
My trunk of eild, but buss or beild,
Sinks in Time’s wintry rage.
Oh, Age has weary days,
And nights o’ sleepless pain:
Thou golden time, o’ Youthfu’ prime,
15
Why comes thou not again!
489.
Behold, my love, how green the groves (Song)
Tune
— “My lodging is on the cold ground.”
BEHOLD, my love, how green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair;
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flowing hair.
The lav’rock shuns the palace gay,
5
And o’er the cottage sings:
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To Shepherds as to Kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu’ string,
In lordly lighted ha’:
10
The Shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe in the birken shaw.
The Princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi’ scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
15
Beneath the milk-white thorn!
The shepherd, in the flowery glen;
In shepherd’s phrase, will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,
But is his heart as true!
20
These wild-wood flowers I’ve pu’d, to deck
That spotless breast o’ thine:
The courtiers’ gems may witness love,
But, ‘tis na love like mine.
490.
The charming month of May (Song)
Tune
— “Daintie Davie.”
IT was the charming month of May,
When all the flow’rs were fresh and gay.
One morning, by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe —
From peaceful slumber she arose,
5
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o’er the flow’ry mead she goes —
The youthful, charming Chloe.
Chorus.
— Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
10
Tripping o’er the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe.
The feather’d people you might see
Perch’d all around on every tree,
In notes of sweetest melody
15
They hail the charming Chloe;
Till, painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Outrival’d by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.
20
Lovely was she, &c.
491.
Lassie wi’ the Lint-white Locks (Song)
Tune
— “Rothiemurchie’s Rant.”
Chorus.
— Lassie wi’the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my Dearie, O?
NOW Nature cleeds the flowery lea,
5
And a’ is young and sweet like thee,
O wilt thou share its joys wi’ me,
And say thou’lt be my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi’ the, &c.
The primrose bank, the wimpling burn,
10
The cuckoo on the milk-white thorn,
The wanton lambs at early morn,
Shall welcome thee, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi’ the, &c.
And when the welcome simmer shower
15
Has cheer’d ilk drooping little flower,
We’ll to the breathing woodbine bower,
At sultry noon, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi’ the, &c.
When Cynthia lights, wi’ silver ray,
20
The weary shearer’s hameward way,
Thro’ yellow waving fields we’ll stray,
And talk o’ love, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi’ the, &c.
And when the howling wintry blast
25
Disturbs my Lassie’s midnight rest,
Enclasped to my faithfu’ breast,
I’ll comfort thee, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi’ the, &c.
