Here, where the Scottish Muse immortal lives, In sacred strains and tuneful numbers joined, Accept the gift; though humble he who gives, Rich is the tribute of the grateful mind. So may no ruffian-feeling in my breast, Discordant, jar thy bosom-chords among; But Peace attune thy gentle soul to rest, Or Love, ecstatic, wake his seraph song, Or Pity’s notes, in luxury of tears, As modest Want the tale of woe reveals; While conscious Virtue all the strains endears, And heaven-born Piety her sanction seals.
On The Seas And Far Away
Tune—“O’er the hills and far away.”
How can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought forego— He’s on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander, let me rove, Still my heart is with my love; Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day, Are with him that’s far away. Chorus.—On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; Nightly dreams and thoughts by day, Are aye with him that’s far away. When in summer noon I faint, As weary flocks around me pant, Haply in this scorching sun, My sailor’s thund’ring at his gun; Bullets, spare my only joy! Bullets, spare my darling boy! Fate, do with me what you may, Spare but him that’s far away, On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; Fate, do with me what you may, Spare but him that’s far away. At the starless, midnight hour When Winter rules with boundless power, As the storms the forests tear, And thunders rend the howling air, Listening to the doubling roar, Surging on the rocky shore, All I can—I weep and pray For his weal that’s far away, On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; All I can—I weep and pray, For his weal that’s far away. Peace, thy olive wand extend, And bid wild War his ravage end, Man with brother Man to meet, And as a brother kindly greet; Then may heav’n with prosperous gales, Fill my sailor’s welcome sails; To my arms their charge convey, My dear lad that’s far away. On the seas and far away, On stormy seas and far away; To my arms their charge convey, My dear lad that’s far away.
Ca’ The Yowes To The Knowes—Second Version
Chorus.—Ca’the yowes to the knowes, Ca’ them where the heather grows, Ca’ them where the burnie rowes, My bonie Dearie. Hark the mavis’ e’ening sang, Sounding Clouden’s woods amang; Then a-faulding let us gang, My bonie Dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c. We’ll gae down by Clouden side, Thro’ the hazels, spreading wide, O’er the waves that sweetly glide, To the moon sae clearly. Ca’ the yowes, &c. Yonder Clouden’s silent towers,1 Where, at moonshine’s midnight hours, O’er the dewy-bending flowers, Fairies dance sae cheery. Ca’ the yowes, &c. Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear, Thou’rt to Love and Heav’n sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near; My bonie Dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c. Fair and lovely as thou art, Thou hast stown my very heart; I can die—but canna part, My bonie Dearie. Ca’ the yowes, &c. [Footnote 1: An old ruin in a sweet situation at the confluence of the Clouden and the Nith.—R. B.]