O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,
The thochts o' bygane years
Still fling their shadows owre my path,
And blind my een wi' tears:

They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears,
And sair and sick I pine,

As Memory idly summons up

The blithe blinks o' langsyne.

'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, 'Twas then we twa did part;

Sweet time, sad time!-twa bairns at schule,

Twa bairns, and but ae heart!

'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink,

To leir ilk ither lear;

And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, Remembered evermair.

I wonder, Jeanie, aften yet,

When sitting on that bink,

Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof,
What our wee heads could think!
When baith bent doun owre ae braid page,
Wi' ae buik on our knee,

Thy lips were on thy lesson, but

My lesson was in thee.

Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads,
How cheeks brent red wi' shame,
Whene'er the schule-weans, laughin', said,

We cleek'd thegither hame?

And mind ye o' the Saturdays

(The schule then skail't at noon), When we ran aff to speel the braes— The broomy braes o' June?

My head rins round and round about,
My heart flows like a sea,

As, ane by ane, the thochts rush back
O' schule-time and o' thee.

Jeanie Morrison

Oh, mornin' life! Oh, mornin' luve!

Oh, lichtsome days and lang,

When hinnied hopes around our hearts,
Like simmer blossoms, sprang!

Oh, mind ye, luve, how aft we left
The deavin' dinsome toun,
To wander by the green burnside,

And hear its waters croon?

The simmer leaves hung owre our heads,
The flowers burst round our feet,
And in the gloamin' o' the wud
The throssil whusslit sweet.

The throssil whusslit in the wud,
The burn sung to the trees,
And we, with Nature's heart in tune,
Concerted harmonies;

And on the knowe abune the burn

For hours thegither sat

In the silentness o' joy, till baith
Wi' very gladness grat.

Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison,

Tears trinkled doun your cheek, Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak!

That was a time, a blessèd time,

When hearts were fresh and young, When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled-unsung!

I marvel, Jeanie Morrison,

Gin I hae been to thee

As closely twined wi' earliest thochts

As

ye hae been to me?

Oh! tell me gin their music fills

Thine ear as it does mine;

Oh! say gin e'er your heart grows great
Wi' dreamings o' langsyne?

937

I've wandered east, I've wandered west,

I've borne a weary lot;

But in my wanderings, far or near,

Ye never were forgot.

The fount that first burst frae this heart,

Still travels on it way;

And channels deeper as it rins
The luve o' life's young day.

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison,
Since we were sindered young,
I've never seen your face, nor heard
The music o' your tongue;

But I could hug all wretchedness,

And happy could I dee,

Did I but ken your heart still dreamed

O' bygane days and me!

William Motherwell [1797-1835]

"WHAT WILL YOU DO, LOVE?”
From "Handy Andy

"WHAT will you do, love, when I am going
With white sail flowing,

The seas beyond—

What will you do, love, when waves divide us,
And friends may chide us

For being fond?"

"Though waves divide us—and friends be chiding, In faith abiding,

I'll still be true!

And I'll pray for thee on the stormy ocean,

In deep devotion

That's what I'll do!"

"What would you do, love, if distant tidings

Thy fond confidings

Should undermine?—

And I abiding 'neath sultry skies,

Should think other eyes

Were as bright as thine?"

Fair Ines

"Oh, name it not:-though guilt and shame

Were on thy name,

I'd still be true:

But that heart of thine-should another share it—

I could not bear it!

What would I do!"

"What would you do, love, when home returning With hopes high burning,

With wealth for you,

If my bark, which bounded o'er foreign foam,
Should be lost near home-

Ah! what would you do?”—

"So thou wert spared, I'd bless the morrow, In want and sorrow,

That left me you;

And I'd welcome thee from the wasting billow,

This heart thy pillow

That's what I'd do!"

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Samuel Lover [1797-1868]

FAIR INES

O SAW ye not fair Ines?

She's gone into the West,
To dazzle when the sun is down,
And rob the world of rest:
She took our daylight with her,
The smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek,
And pearls upon her breast.

O turn again, fair Ines,

Before the fall of night,

For fear the Moon should shine alone,

And stars unrivaled bright;

And blessed will the lover be

That walks beneath their light,

And breathes the love against thy cheek

I dare not even write!

Would I had been, fair Ines,

That gallant cavalier,

Who rode so gaily by thy side,
And whispered thee so near!
Were there no bonny dames at home,

Or no true lovers here,

That he should cross the seas to win

The dearest of the dear?

I saw thee, lovely Ines,
Descend along the shore,
With bands of noble gentlemen,
And banners waved before;
And gentle youth and maidens gay,
And snowy plumes they wore:

It would have been a beauteous dream,—

If it had been no more!

Alas, alas! fair Ines,

She went away with song,

With Music waiting on her steps,

And shoutings of the throng;
But some were sad, and felt no mirth,
But only Music's wrong,

In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell,
To her you've loved so long.

Farewell, farewell, fair Ines!

That vessel never bore

So fair a lady on its deck,

Nor danced so light before,

Alas for pleasure on the sea,

And sorrow on the shore!

The smile that blessed one lover's heart

Has broken many more!

Thomas Hood [1799-1845]

A VALEDICTION

GOD be with thee, my beloved,-God be with thee!

Else alone thou goest forth,

Thy face unto the north,