ALLAN RAMSAY. SANG. PEGGY. WHEN first my dear laddie gade to the green hill, And I at ew-milking first sey'd my young skill, To bear the milk bowie nae pain was to me, When I at the bughting forgather'd wi' thee. PATIE. When corn rigs wav'd yellow, and blue hether bells Bloom'd bonny on muirland and sweet rising fells, Nae birns, briers, or breckens gae trouble to me, If I found the berries right ripen'd for thee. PEGGY. When thou ran, or wrestled, or putted the stane, PATIE. Our Jenny sings saftly the Cowden-broom knows, PEGGY. How easy can lasses trow what they desire! SANG HID ID from himself, now by the dawn He starts as fresh as roses blawn, And ranges o'er the heights and lawn, After his bleeting flocks. Healthful, and innocently gay, He chants and whistles out the day; Life happy from ambition free, When truth and love with joy agree, Unmov'd with what disturbs the great, Contented spends his time. SANG. SPEAK on, speak thus, and still my grief, Hold up a heart that's sinking under These fears, that soon will want relief, When Pate must from his Peggy sunder. A gentler face and silk attire, A lady rich in beauty's blossom, Alake, poor me! will now conspire, To steal thee from thy Peggy's bosom. No more the shepherd who excell'd The rest, whose wit made them to wonder, Shall now his Peggy's praises tell; Ah! I can die, but never sunder. Ye meadows, where we often stray'd, Ye bauks where we were wont to wander; Sweet scented rucks round which we play'd, You'll lose your sweets when we're asunder. Again, ah! shall I never creep Around the know with silent duty, Kindly to watch thee while asleep, And wonder at thy manly beauty? Hear, heav'n, while solemnly I vow, Tho' thou shouldst prove a wandering lover, Thro' life to thee I shall prove true, Nor be a wife to any other. SANG. WHEN hope was quite sunk in despair, My heart it was going to break; My life appear'd worthless my care, Wi' patience I'll wait the lang year, But now I'll endeavour to rise To a height that's becoming thy wife. For beauty that's only skin deep, If virtue's ingrain'd in the wife, And the husband ha'e sense to approve. SANG. T setting day and rising morn, AT Wi' soul that still shall love thee, I'll ask of heav'n thy safe return, Wi' a' that can improve thee. I'll visit aft the birken bush, Where first thou kindly tald me Sweet tales of love, and hid my blush, Whilst round thou didst enfald me. To a' our haunts I will repair, By greenwood shaw or fountain; Or where the simmer day I'd share Wi' thee upon yon mountain. There will I tell the trees and flow'rs, From thoughts unfeign'd and tender, By vows you're mine, by love is your's A heart which cannot wander. SANG. THE bonny grey-ey'd morning begins to peep, Reach him who has happiness link'd to his fate. WILLIAM COLLINS. THE PASSIONS. An Ode for Music. WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung," The Passions oft, to hear her shell, From the supporting myrtles round Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, With woeful measures, wan Despair, But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, |