No More Learning

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. "


Last May, a braw wooer cam doun 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 e'en,
And vow'd for my love he was diein,
I said, he might die when he liked for Jean--
The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein;
The Lord forgie me for liein!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers;
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd;
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 tryst o' Dalgarnock;
But wha but my fine fickle wooer was there,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neibours might say I was saucy;
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin',
And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet,
But heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin,
But heavens! how he fell a swearin.