Chloris, I’m thine wi’ a passion sincerest,
     And thou hast plighted me love o’ the dearest! 
     And thou’rt the angel that never can alter,
     Sooner the sun in his motion would falter: 
     Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.

Their Groves O’Sweet Myrtle

     Tune—­“Humours of Glen.”

     Their groves o’ sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon,
     Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
     Far dearer to me yon lone glen o’ green breckan,
     Wi’ the burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom. 
     Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers
     Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen;
     For there, lightly tripping, among the wild flowers,
     A-list’ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

     Tho’ rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny valleys,
     And cauld Caledonia’s blast on the wave;
     Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
     What are they?—­the haunt of the Tyrant and Slave. 
     The Slave’s spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
     The brave Caledonian views wi’ disdain;
     He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
     Save Love’s willing fetters—­the chains of his Jean.

Forlorn, My Love, No Comfort Near

     Air—­“Let me in this ae night.”

     Forlorn, my Love, no comfort near,
     Far, far from thee, I wander here;
     Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
     At which I most repine, Love.

     Chorus—­O wert thou, Love, but near me! 
     But near, near, near me,
     How kindly thou wouldst cheer me,
     And mingle sighs with mine, Love.

     Around me scowls a wintry sky,
     Blasting each bud of hope and joy;
     And shelter, shade, nor home have I;
     Save in these arms of thine, Love. 
     O wert thou, &c.

     Cold, alter’d friendship’s cruel part,
     To poison Fortune’s ruthless dart—­
     Let me not break thy faithful heart,
     And say that fate is mine, Love. 
     O wert thou, &c.

     But, dreary tho’ the moments fleet,
     O let me think we yet shall meet;
     That only ray of solace sweet,
     Can on thy Chloris shine, Love! 
     O wert thou, &c.

Fragment,—­Why, Why Tell The Lover

     Tune—­“Caledonian Hunt’s delight.”

     Why, why tell thy lover
     Bliss he never must enjoy”? 
     Why, why undeceive him,
     And give all his hopes the lie? 
     O why, while fancy, raptur’d slumbers,
     Chloris, Chloris all the theme,
     Why, why would’st thou, cruel—­
     Wake thy lover from his dream?

The Braw Wooer

     Tune—­“The Lothian Lassie.”