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I. LOVE : PERSONAL
Fair is the morn in flowery May, And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay, Or wand'ring in the lonely wild: But woman, Nature's darling childó
There all her charms she does compile ; Even there her other works are foil'd -Ua
By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle-^
O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain, Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotia's plain!
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle!
Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, Where fame and honours lofty shine;
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep, Or downward seek the Indian mine: Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil, And ev'ry day have joys divine
With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle.
No. 24. As I gaed up by yon gate-end.
As I gaed up by yon gate-end, When day was waxin weary,
Wha did I meet come down the street But pretty Peg, my dearie ?
Her air sae sweet, her shape complete,
Wi' nae proportion wanting, The Queen of Love did never move
Wi' motion mair enchanting!
Wi' linked hands we took the sands
Adoun yon winding river; O, that sweet hour and shady bower
Forget it shall I never.