The Complete Works of Robert Burns
Chapter 159 : Air--"_Daintie Davie._"[Burns, despairing to fit some of the airs with such

Air--"_Daintie Davie._"

[Burns, despairing to fit some of the airs with such verses of original manufacture as Thomson required, for the English part of his collection, took the liberty of bestowing a Southron dress on some genuine Caledonian lyrics. The origin of this song may be found in Ramsay's miscellany: the bombast is abated, and the whole much improved.]

I.

It was the charming month of May, When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay, One morning, by the break of day, The youthful charming Chloe From peaceful slumber she arose, Girt on her mantle and her hose, And o'er the flowery mead she goes, The youthful charming Chloe.

Lovely was she by the dawn, Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe, Tripping o'er the pearly lawn, The youthful charming Chloe.

II.

The feather'd people you might see, Perch'd all around, on every tree, In notes of sweetest melody They hail the charming Chloe; Till painting gay the eastern skies, The glorious sun began to rise, Out-rivall'd by the radiant eyes Of youthful, charming Chloe.

Lovely was she by the dawn, Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe, Tripping o'er the pearly lawn, The youthful, charming Chloe.

CCx.x.xIII.

La.s.sIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS.

Tune--"_Rothemurche's Rant._"

["Conjugal love," says the poet, "is a pa.s.sion which I deeply feel and highly venerate: but somehow it does not make such a figure in poesie as that other species of the pa.s.sion, where love is liberty and nature law. Musically speaking, the first is an instrument of which the gamut is scanty and confined, but the tones inexpressibly sweet, while the last has powers equal to all the intellectual modulations of the human soul." It must be owned that the bard could render very pretty reasons for his rapture about Jean Lorimer.]

I.

La.s.sie wi' the lint-white locks, Bonnie la.s.sie, artless la.s.sie, Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks?

Wilt thou be my dearie, O?

Now nature cleeds the flowery lea, And a' is young and sweet like thee; O wilt thou share its joy wi' me, And say thoul't be my dearie, O?

II.

And when the welcome simmer shower Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower, We'll to the breathing woodbine bower At sultry noon, my dearie, O.

III.

When Cynthia lights wi' silver ray, The weary shearer's hameward way; Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray, And talk o' love my dearie, O.

IV.

And when the howling wintry blast Disturbs my la.s.sie's midnight rest; Enclasped to my faithfu' breast, I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O.

La.s.sie wi' the lint-white locks, Bonnie la.s.sie, artless la.s.sie, Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks?

Wilt thou be my dearie, O?

CCx.x.xIV.

FAREWELL, THOU STREAM.

Air--"_Nancy's to the greenwood gane._"

[This song was written in November, 1794: Thomson p.r.o.nounced it excellent.]

I.

Farewell, thou stream that winding flows Around Eliza's dwelling!

O mem'ry! spare the cruel throes Within my bosom swelling: Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain, And yet in secret languish, To feel a fire in ev'ry vein, Nor dare disclose my anguish.

II.

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown, I fain my griefs would cover; The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan, Betray the hapless lover.

I know thou doom'st me to despair, Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me; But oh, Eliza, hear one prayer-- For pity's sake forgive me!

III.

The music of thy voice I heard, Nor wist while it enslav'd me; I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd, 'Till fears no more had sav'd me: The unwary sailor thus aghast, The wheeling torrent viewing; 'Mid circling horrors sinks at last In overwhelming ruin.

CCx.x.xV.

O PHILLY, HAPPY BE THAT DAY.

Tune-"_The Sow's Tail._"

["This morning" (19th November, 1794), "though a keen blowing frost,"

Burns writes to Thomson, "in my walk before breakfast I finished my duet: whether I have uniformly succeeded, I will not say: but here it is for you, though it is not an hour old."]

HE.

O Philly, happy be that day, When roving through the gather'd hay, My youthfu' heart was stown away, And by thy charms, my Philly.

SHE.

O w.i.l.l.y, ay I bless the grove Where first I own'd my maiden love, Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above, To be my ain dear w.i.l.l.y.