The solemn sweetness nature spreads,
The kindly hour to bliss inviting,
Within our happy bosoms move,
The softest sigh o' purest love;
Reclined upon the velvet grass,
Beneath the balmy, birken blossom,
What words could a' my joy express,
When clasped to her beating bosom;
How swells my heart with rapture's tide,
When wi' the lass o' Levenside.
She never saw the splendid ball,
She never blazed in courtly grandeur,
But like her native lily's bloom,
She cheerfu' gilds her humble home;
The pert reply, the modish air,
To soothe the soul were never granted,
When modest sense and love are there,
The guise o' art may well be wanted;
O Fate! gi'e me to be my bride
The bonnie lass o' Levenside.
JAMES AFFLECK.
The "Posthumous Poetical Works" of James Affleck, tailor in Biggar, with a memoir of his life by his son, were published at Edinburgh in 1836. Affleck was born in the village of Drummelzier, in Peeblesshire, on the 8th September 1776. His education was scanty; and after some years' occupation as a cowherd, he was apprenticed to a tailor in his native village. He afterwards prosecuted his trade in the parish of Crawfordjohn, and in the town of Ayr. In 1793, he established himself as master tailor in Biggar. Fond of society, he joined the district lodge of freemasons, and became a leading member of that fraternity. He composed verses for the entertainment of his friends, which he was induced to give to the world in two separate publications. He possessed considerable poetical talent, but his compositions are generally marked by the absence of refinement. The song selected for the present work is the most happy effort in his posthumous volume. His death took place at Biggar, on the 8th September 1835.
HOW BLEST WERE THE DAYS!
How blest were the days o' langsyne when a laddie!
Alane by a bush wi' my dog and my plaidie;
Nae fop was sae happy, though dress'd e'er sae gaudy,
Sae sweet were the days o' langsyne when a laddie.
Whiles croonin' my sonnet amang the whin bushes,
Whiles whistling wi' glee as I pou'd the green rashes;
The whim o' the moment kept me aye frae sorrow,
What I wanted at night was in prospect to-morrow.
The nest o' a lintie I fondly explored,
And plundering bykes was the game I adored;
My pleasures did vary, as I was unsteady,
Yet I always found something that pleased when a laddie.