1 The last time I came o'er the moor, I left my love behind me; Ye powers! what pain do I endure, When soft ideas mind me! Soon as the ruddy morn displayed The beaming day ensuing, I met betimes my lovely maid, In fit retreats for wooing. 2 Beneath the cooling shade we lay, Gazing and chastely sporting; We kissed and promised time away, Till night spread her black curtain. I pitied all beneath the skies, E'en kings, when she was nigh me; In raptures I beheld her eyes, Which could but ill deny me. 3 Should I be called where cannons roar, Where mortal steel may wound me; Or cast upon some foreign shore, Where dangers may surround me; Yet hopes again to see my love, To feast on glowing kisses, Shall make my cares at distance move, In prospect of such blisses. 4 In all my soul there's not one place To let a rival enter; Since she excels in every grace, In her my love shall centre. Sooner the seas shall cease to flow, Their waves the Alps shall cover, On Greenland ice shall roses grow, Before I cease to love her. 5 The next time I go o'er the moor, She shall a lover find me; And that my faith is firm and pure, Though I left her behind me: Then Hymen's sacred bonds shall chain My heart to her fair bosom; There, while my being does remain, My love more fresh shall blossom. FROM 'THE GENTLE SHEPHERD.' ACT I.--SCENE II. PROLOGUE. A flowrie howm[1] between twa verdant braes, Where lasses used to wash and spread their claes,[2] A trotting burnie wimpling through the ground, Its channel peebles shining smooth and round: Here view twa barefoot beauties clean and clear; First please your eye, then gratify your ear; While Jenny what she wishes discommends, And Meg with better sense true love defends. PEGGY AND JENNY. _Jenny_. Come, Meg, let's fa' to wark upon this green, This shining day will bleach our linen clean; The water's clear, the lift[3] unclouded blue, Will mak them like a lily wet with dew. _Peggy_. Gae farrer up the burn to Habbie's How, Where a' that's sweet in spring and simmer grow: Between twa birks, out o'er a little linn,[4] The water fa's, and maks a singin' din: A pool breast-deep, beneath as clear as glass, Kisses with easy whirls the bordering grass. We'll end our washing while the morning's cool, And when the day grows het we'll to the pool, There wash oursells; 'tis healthfu' now in May, And sweetly caller on sae warm a day. _Jenny_. Daft lassie, when we're naked, what'll ye say, Giff our twa herds come brattling down the brae, And see us sae?--that jeering fellow, Pate, Wad taunting say, 'Haith, lasses, ye're no blate.'[5]