He caught her glance and mark'd her sigh,
And triumph laugh'd in his sparkling eye.
So softly sweet was his tuneful ditty,
He charm'd her tender soul to pity,
And so blithely gay were the notes he play'd,
That he gain'd the heart of the mountain maid.
Farewell, my Lute,
Farewell! my lute, whose gentle tone
Hath cheer'd my heart for many a day;
Companion lov'd, whose chords had pow'r
To chase my gloom and grief away.
Whate'er my lot, where'er I roam,
Fond thoughts of thee will often come,
And I shall sigh for that dear home,
Where thou hang'st mute, sweet lute!
Farewell! my lute, &c.
Farewell! my love, whose soothing voice
Broke like soft music on my ear;
Whose heart to mine more warmly clung,
When all around grew dark and drear.
Where'er I go, whate'er my lot,
No word of thine can be forget:
Oft shall I sigh for that sweet spot,
Where thou dost rove, dear love!
Farewell, my love! Farewell, my lute!
These eyes are dry, these lips are mute:
Oh! language fades before love's spell;
My lute! my love! farewell, farewell!
The Bonnie Lad.
Young Jammie is a bonnie lad,
None blither I can see,
So trim he wears his tartan plaid,
So kind he blinks at me.
As kind I blink at him again,
My smiles I dinna stint,
Yet still he gies my bosom pain,
He winna take the hint.
He tother day a posie brought,
The rose and lily too,
An emblem I must own I thought,
Might tell him what to do.
I courtsied low and smiled again,
My smiles I never stint,
Yet still he gies my bosom pain,
He canna take the hint.
Ye favor'd lasses of our town,
Advise me if you can,
That I may a' my wishes crown,
Upon a modest plan.
I'll do my best to gain his love,
My dress shall be in print,
And I will ever constant prove,
If he will take the hint.
Oh tell me how from Love to fly.
Oh tell me how from love to fly,
Its dangers how to shun,
To guard the heart, to shield the eye,
Or I must be undone.
For thy impression on my mind,
No time, nor power can move;
And vain, alas! the task I find,
To look and not to love;
Could absence my sad heart uphold,
I'd hence and mourn my lot;
But mem'ry will not be controll'd,
Thou ne'er canst be forgot
If you ask what is Love.
If you ask, if you ask, what is love,
When we first, when we first feel its power, I would, I would say, 'twas a thorn,
A thorn conceal'd in a flower,
Or honey collected beneath the bee's wing, Where we scarce taste the sweets for the wound of the sting,
Oh, this is love!-Oh, this is love.
If you ask, if you ask, what is love,
I would answer, would answer, a cheat; 'tis woe in a mask
'Tis bliss, 'tis bliss in deceit,
"Tis poison in nectar, 'tis death in repose,
In prospect 'tis rapture, when near worst of woes.
Oh, this is love!-Oh, this is love.
The Soldier's Dream.
Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lour'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice, ere the cock crew, I dreamt it again.
Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track,
Till autumn and sunshine disclosed the sweet way,
To the house of my father, who welcom'd me back,
I flew to the pleasant field, travers'd so oft
In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;
I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft,
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,
And my wife sobb'd aloud in the fulness of heart'Stay, stay with us!-rest! thou art weary and worn!' And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.
America, Commerce, and Freedom.
How blest the life a sailor leads,
From clime to clime still ranging,
For as the calm the storm succeeds,
The scene delights by changing.
Though tempests howl along the main,
Some objects will remind us,
And cheer with hope to meet again
The friends we left behind us.
Then under full sail we laugh at the gale,
And the landsmen look pale, never heed them,
But toss off a glass to some favorite lass,
To America, Commerce, and Freedom.
But when arrived in sight of land,
Or safe in port rejoicing,
Our ship we moor, our sails we hand,
Whilst out the boat is hoisting,
With cheerful hearts the shore we reach,
Our friends delighted greet us,
And tripping lightly o'er the beach,
The pretty lasses meet us.
When the full flowing bowl enlivens the soul,
To foot it we merrily lead them;
And each bonny lass will drink off her glass
To America, Commerce, and Freedom.
Our prizes sold, the chink we share,
And gladly we receive it;
And when we meet a brother tar
That wants, we freely give it :
No free-born sailor yet had store,
But cheerfully would lend it:
And when 'tis gone,-to sea for more,
We earn it but to spend it.
Then drink round, my boys, 'tis the first of our joys,
To relieve the distress'd, clothe and feed them,
"Tis a duty we share with the brave and the fair,
In this land of Commerce and Freedom.
Oh! do not bid me to Forget.
Oh! do not bid me to forget
What once I loved so well,
For I have ever, ever said,
My heart shall not rebel.
"Twas on that spot beside the stream,
Where last we fondly met,
I promis'd him, whate'er my doom,
I never would forget.
He loved me when we parted last,
I know he loved me true,
For falsehood never seem'd so fair,
And well his looks I knew:
For when he spoke his eye was fill'd,
His cheek with tears was wet,
His latest words, his last farewell,
I never can forget.
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