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There Summer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry!
For there I took the last fareweel

O' my sweet Highland Mary.

As,

How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As, underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasped her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder.

But O fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now those rosy lips
I aft hae kissed sae fondly!
And closed for ay the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!

SCOTS, WHA HAE

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour!
See the front o' battle lour!

See approach proud Edward's power-
Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman fa',
Let him follow me!

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do or die!

IS THERE FOR HONEST POVERTY

[A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT]

Is there for honest poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,-
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,

Our toils obscure, an' a' that:
The rank is but the guinea's stamp;
The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,—

A man's a man for a' that,

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that: The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd ‘a lord,'

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif for a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,

His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind,

He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that!
But an honest man's aboon his might;
Guid faith, he mauna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities, an' a' that:
The pith o' sense an' pride o' worth
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may
(As come it will for a' that),
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,

It's comin yet for a' that,
That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me:
I said there was naething I hated like men;
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me,
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me!

He spak o' the darts in my bonie black een,
And vowed for my love he was dyin:

I said he might die when he liket for Jean;
The Lord forgie me for lyin, for lyin,
The Lord forgie me for lyin!

A weel-stocket mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
I never loot on that I kenned it or cared;

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers,
But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less-
The Deil tak his taste to gae near her!—
He up the Gate Slack to my black cousin Bess:

Guess ye how, the jad, I could bear her, could bear her! Guess ye how, the jad, I could bear her!

But a' the niest week as I petted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there?
I glowered as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowered as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebours might say I was saucy:
My wooer he capered as he'd been in drink,
And vowed I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vowed I was his dear lassie!

I spiered for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recovered her hearin,

And how her new shoon fit her auld shachled feet-
But, heavens, how he fell a swearin, a swearin!
But, heavens, how he fell a swearin!

He begged, for Gudesake, I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;

So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow!

O, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST

O, wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee;

Or did misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.

Or were I in the wildest waste,

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desert were a paradise

If thou wert there, if thou wert there;
Or were I monarch of the globe,

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

ERASMUS DARWIN

FROM THE BOTANIC GARDEN

[PROCUL ESTE, PROFANI]

Stay your rude steps! whose throbbing breasts infold
The legion-fiends of glory or of gold!
Stay! whose false lips seductive simpers part,
While cunning nestles in the harlot-heart!-
For you no Dryads dress the roseate bower,
For you no Nymphs their sparkling vases pour;
Unmarked by you, light Graces swim the green,
And hovering Cupids aim their shafts, unseen.

But thou! whose mind the well-attempered ray
Of taste and virtue lights with purer day;
Whose finer sense each soft vibration owns
With sweet responsive sympathy of tones;
(So the fair flower expands its lucid form
To meet the sun, and shuts it to the storm);
For thee my borders nurse the fragrant wreath,
My fountains murmur, and my zephyrs breathe;

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