Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/297

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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
233

WHERE ARE THE JOYS.

TUNE—'SAW YE MY FATHER?'

Where are the joys I have met in the morning,That danc'd to the lark's early sang?Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,At evening the wild woods amang?
No more a-winding the course of yon river,And marking sweet flow'rets so fair:No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure,But sorrow and sad sighing care.
Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,And grim, surly winter is near?No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses,Proclaim it the pride of the year.
Fain would I hide what I fear to discoverYet long, long too well have I known:All that has caus'd this wreck in my bosom,Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,Nor hope dare a comfort bestow:Come, then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.

BANKS OF DEVON.

How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding Devon,With green-spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!But the boniest flower on the banks of the DevonWas once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew!And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.
O, spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn!And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizesThe verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!
Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,And England triumphant display her proud rose;A fairer than either adorns the green valleysWhere Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.
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