Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/263

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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
205

SONG.

TUNE—'HUMOURS OF GLEN.'

Their groves o' sweet myrtles let foreign lands reckon,Where bright-beaming summers exalt their perfume;Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan,Wi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow broom.
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen:For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,A listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys,And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave;Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,What are they? The haunt of the tyrant and slave!
The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain;He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his Jean.

'TWAS NA HER BONIE BLUE E'E.

TUNE—'LADDIE, LIE NEAR ME.'

'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin;Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing;'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness.
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sever,Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.
Chloris, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,And thou hast plighted me love o' the dearest!And thou'rt the angel that never can alter,Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.
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