When Jeanie fung with hearty glee, To charm her winfome Marrow, We'll o'er the braes of Yarrow. My bonny laddie gang wi' me, He kifs'd and loo'd the pretty maid, My bonny laddie, gang wi' me, We'll o'er the braes of Yarrow. SONG 211. ROSLIN CASTLE. 'TWAS in that feafon of the year, When all things gay and fweet appear, That Colin, with the morning ray, Arofe and fung his rural lay; Of Nanny's charms the fhepherd fung, Awake, fweet mufe, the breathing spring, O hark, my love, on every fpray O come, my love, thy Colin's lay, O hither hafte, and with thee bring, And charm this ravish'd heart of mine. SONG 212. A HUNTING SONG. RECITAT I V E. HARK! the horn calls away, Come the grave, come the gay, Wake to mufic that wakens the fkies, Quit the bondage of floth, and arife. AIR. From the east breaks the morn, See the fun-beams adorn The wild heath and the mountains fo high; Shrilly opes the ftaunch hound, The fteed neighs to the found, And the floods and the vallies reply. Our forefathers fo good, Prov'd their greatness of blood, By encount'ring the pard and the boar; Ruddy health bloom'd each face, Age and youth urg'd the chace, And taught woodlands and forefts to roar. Hence of noble defcent, Hills and wilds we frequent, Where the bofom of nature's reveal'd; Tho' in life's bufy day, Man of man make a prey, Still let ours be the prey of the field. With the chace in full fight,... Gods, how great the delight, How our mortal fenfations refine Where is care? where is fear? Like the winds in the rear, And the man's loft in fomething divine.. Now to horfe, my brave boys, SONG 213 COME roufe from your trances,. The fly morn advances, To catch fluggish mortals in bed.;. Let the horn's jocund note In the wind fweetly float, While the fox from the brake lifts his head; Now creeping,. Now peeping, The fox from the brake lifts his head: Each away to his fteed, Come, follow, my worshippers, follow; See the hounds fnuff the air, Hark, hark, to the huntfman's fweet holloo Hark Jowler, hark Rover, See reynard breaks cover,. Now they dart down the lane, And the hills, woods, and.vallies refound, With dashing, And fplashing, The hills, woods, and vallies refound: Then away with, full speed, Your goddess fhall lead, Come follow, my worshippers, follow; O'er hedge, ditch, and gate, If you ftop you'r too late, Hark, hark, to the huntfman's fweet holloo! SON G 214% BRITON'S GLORY. COME ye lads who wish to fhine, Bright in future ftory, |