The pathless, wild and wimpling burn, Wi’ Chloris in my arms, be mine; And I the warld nor wish nor scorn, Its joys and griefs alike resign. Song Inscribed To Alexander Cunningham Now spring has clad the grove in green, And strew’d the lea wi’ flowers; The furrow’d, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers. While ilka thing in nature join Their sorrows to forego, O why thus all alone are mine The weary steps o’ woe! The trout in yonder wimpling burn That glides, a silver dart, And, safe beneath the shady thorn, Defies the angler’s art— My life was ance that careless stream, That wanton trout was I; But Love, wi’ unrelenting beam, Has scorch’d my fountains dry. That little floweret’s peaceful lot, In yonder cliff that grows, Which, save the linnet’s flight, I wot, Nae ruder visit knows, Was mine, till Love has o’er me past, And blighted a’ my bloom; And now, beneath the withering blast, My youth and joy consume. The waken’d lav’rock warbling springs, And climbs the early sky, Winnowing blythe his dewy wings In morning’s rosy eye; As little reck’d I sorrow’s power, Until the flowery snare O’witching Love, in luckless hour, Made me the thrall o’ care. O had my fate been Greenland snows, Or Afric’s burning zone, Wi’man and nature leagued my foes, So Peggy ne’er I’d known! The wretch whose doom is “Hope nae mair” What tongue his woes can tell; Within whase bosom, save Despair, Nae kinder spirits dwell. O That’s The Lassie O’ My Heart Tune—“Morag.” O wat ye wha that lo’es me And has my heart a-keeping? O sweet is she that lo’es me, As dews o’ summer weeping, In tears the rosebuds steeping! Chorus—O that’s the lassie o’ my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O she’s the queen o’ womankind, And ne’er a ane to peer her. If thou shalt meet a lassie, In grace and beauty charming, That e’en thy chosen lassie, Erewhile thy breast sae warming, Had ne’er sic powers alarming; O that’s the lassie, &c. If thou hadst heard her talking, And thy attention’s plighted, That ilka body talking, But her, by thee is slighted, And thou art all delighted; O that’s the lassie, &c. If thou hast met this Fair One, When frae her thou hast parted, If every other Fair One But her, thou hast deserted, And thou art broken-hearted, O that’s the lassie o’ my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O that’s the queen o’ womankind, And ne’er a ane to peer her. Inscription