Read Delphi Complete Works of Robert Burns (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Online
Authors: Robert Burns
469.
Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes (Song)
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,
5
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,
10
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,
15
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,
20
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,
25
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die — but canna part,
My bonie Dearie.
Ca’ the yowes, &c.
470.
She says she loes me best of a’ (Song)
Tune
— “Oonagh’s Waterfall.”
SAE flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o’er-arching
Twa laughing e’en o’ lovely blue;
Her smiling, sae wyling.
5
Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto these rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris’ bonie face,
When first that bonie face I saw;
10
And aye my Chloris’ dearest charm —
She says, she lo’es me best of a’.
Like harmony her motion,
Her pretty ankle is a spy,
Betraying fair proportion,
15
Wad make a saint forget the sky:
Sae warming, sae charming,
Her faultless form and gracefu’ air;
Ilk feature — auld Nature
Declar’d that she could do nae mair:
20
Hers are the willing chains o’ love,
By conquering Beauty’s sovereign law;
And still my Chloris’ dearest charm —
She says, she lo’es me best of a’.
Let others love the city,
25
And gaudy show, at sunny noon;
Gie me the lonely valley,
The dewy eve and rising moon,
Fair beaming, and streaming,
Her silver light the boughs amang;
30
While falling; recalling,
The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove,
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o’ truth and love,
35
And say, thou lo’es me best of a’.
471.
Epigram on Jessy Staig’s recovery
On Miss Jessy Staig’s recovery.
MAXWELL, if merit here you crave,
That merit I deny;
You
save fair Jessie from the grave! —
An Angel could not die!
472.
To the beautiful Miss Eliza J —— n, on her principles of Liberty and Eqality
On her Principles of Liberty and Equality.
HOW, Liberty! girl, can it be by thee nam’d?
Equality too! hussey, art not asham’d?
Free and Equal indeed, while mankind thou enchainest,
And over their hearts a proud Despot so reignest.
473.
On Chloris requesting a sprig of blossom’d thorn
Requesting me to give her a Spring of Blossomed Thorn.
FROM the white-blossom’d sloe my dear Chloris requested
A sprig, her fair breast to adorn:
No, by Heavens! I exclaim’d, let me perish, if ever
I plant in that bosom a thorn!
474.
On seeing Mrs. Kemble in Yarico
KEMBLE, thou cur’st my unbelief
For Moses and his rod;
At Yarico’s sweet nor of grief
The rock with tears had flow’d.
475.
Epigram on a Country Laird (Cardoness)
not quite so wise as Solomon.
BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardonessp,
With grateful, lifted eyes,
Who taught that not the soul alone,
But
body
too shall rise;
For had He said “the soul alone
5
From death I will deliver,”
Alas, alas! O Cardoness,
Then hadst thou lain for ever.
476.
Epigram on the same Laird’s Country Seat
Belonging to the same Laird.
WE grant they’re thine, those beauties all,
So lovely in our eye;
Keep them, thou eunuch, Cardoness,
For others to enjoy!
477.
Epigram on Dr. Babington’s looks
is expressed in the Rev. Dr. Babington’s very looks.
THAT there is a falsehood in his looks,
I must and will deny:
They tell their Master is a knave,
And sure they do not lie.
478.
EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’ hell,
Planted by Satan’s dibble;
Poor silly wretch, he’s damned himsel’,
To save the Lord the trouble.
479.
HERE cursing, swearing Burton lies,
A buck, a beau, or “Dem my eyes!”
Who in his life did little good,
And his last words were “Dem my blood!”
480.
Epigram on an Innkeeper (“The Marquis”)
HERE lies a mock Marquis, whose titles were shamm’d,
If ever he rise, it will be to be damn’d.
481.
IN se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine,
The deil gat stuff to mak a swine,
An’ coost it in a corner;
But wilily he chang’d his plan,
An’ shap’d it something like a man,
5
An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner.
482.
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, an’ shape complete,
5
Wi’ nae proportion wanting,
The Queen of Love did never move
Wi’ motion mair enchanting.
Wi’ linkèd hands we took the sands,
Adown yon winding river;
10
Oh, that sweet hour and shady bower,
Forget it shall I never!