TITLES OF THE POEMS, BALLADS, DRAMATIC PIECES, &c.
Ah me! how mournful, wan, and slow,
Ah, Peggie, since thou'rt gane away,
Ah, the poor shepherd's mournful fate,
Alas! for the land of the heath-cover'd,
A lassie cam' to our gate yestreen,
Alas! the sunny hours are past,
Allen-a-Dale has no fagot for burning,
Along by Levern stream so clear,
Amang the birks, sae blythe an' gay,.
And are ye sure the news is true?
And ye shall walk in silk attire,
As I came through Glendochart vale,
The pawky auld carle came o'er the lee,
There grew in bonnie Scotland,
There's cauld kail in Aberdeen (Reid),
There's cauld kail in Aberdeen (Nairne),
There's high and low, there's rich and poor,
There's nae covenant noo, lassie!
There's waefu' news in yon town,
There was a jollie beggar,
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There was a musician wha play'd a good stick, 347
There was an auld wife had a wee pickle tow, 138
There was anes a may,
There was a wee bit wifukie,
The rosebud blushing to the morn,
The simmer sweetly smiles in Caledonia,
The smiling morn, the breathing spring,
The smiling plains, profusely gay,
The sun has gane down o'er,.
The sun is setting on sweet Glengarry,
The sun sets in night, .
The sun upon the Weirdlaw Hill,
The tears I shed must ever fall,
The troops were all embark'd on board,
The wind blew hie owre muir and lea,
They say that Jockey'll speed weel o't,
Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea,
Thou dark winding Carron,
Though siller Tweed rin o'er the lea,
Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,
Thou that loved once, now loves no more,
Thy braes were bonnie, Yarrow stream,.
Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue,
Thy fatal shafts unerring move,
Thy looks speak compassion,
To love unlov'd it is a pain,
"Twas at the hour of dark midnight,
"Twas on a summer's afternoon,
Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde,
Walkin' out ae mornin' early,
When in the morning I arose,
When I upon thy bosom lean,
When friendship, love, and truth abound,
When hope lies dead within the heart,
When I began the world first,
342 Why weep ye by the tide, ladie?
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a',
Will ye gang o'er the lea-rig,
403 Would you be young again?
445 Ye banks and braes, and streams around,
194 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
429 Ye briery bields, where roses blaw!
444 Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline,
Ye gods! was Strephon's picture blest,
Ye rivers so limpid and clear,
Wha's this, bedight in tatter'd claes,
GLASGOW: W. G. BLACKIE AND CO., PRINters, villafield,
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