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I. LOVE : PERSONAL |
39 |
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She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd,
She charm'd my soul I wist na how; And aye the stound, the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een sae bonie blue. But 'spare to speak, and spare to speed'—
She'll aiblins listen to my vow : Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
To her twa een sae bonie blue. |
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No. 40. Blythe hae I been on yon hill. |
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Blythe hae I been on yon hill
As the lambs before me, Careless ilka thought, and free
As the breeze flew o'er me ; Now nae langer sport and play,
Mirth or sang can please me; Lesley is sae fair and coy,
Care and anguish seize me. |
Heavy, heavy is the task,
Hopeless love declaring; Trembling, I dow nocht but glow'r,
Sighing, dumb despairing! If she winna ease the thraws
In my bosom swelling, Underneath the grass-green sod
Soon maun be my dwelling. |
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