As on the brier the budding rose
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willy.
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willy.
Robert Burns
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.
* * * * *
CCXXXV.
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 Willy, 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 Willy.
HE.
As songsters of the early year
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
So ilka day to me mair dear
And charming is my Philly.
SHE.
As on the brier the budding rose
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willy.
HE.
The milder sun and bluer sky
That crown my harvest cares wi' joy,
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye
As is a sight o' Philly.
SHE.
The little swallow's wanton wing,
Tho' wafting o'er the flowery spring,
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring,
As meeting o' my Willy.
HE.
The bee that thro' the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the opening flower,
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,
Upon the lips o' Philly.
SHE.
The woodbine in the dewy weet
When evening shades in silence meet,
Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
As is a kiss o' Willy.
HE.
Let Fortune's wheel at random rin,
And fools may tyne, and knaves may win
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,
And that's my ain dear Philly.
SHE.
What's a' joys that gowd can gie?
I care nae wealth a single flie;
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy.
* * * * *
CCXXXVI.
CONTENTED WI' LITTLE.
