No More Learning

On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away;
Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
Are ay with him that's far away.

II.

When in summer's noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in this scorching sun
My sailor's thund'ring at his gun:
Bullets, spare my only joy!
Bullets, spare my darling boy!
Fate, do with me what you may--
Spare but him that's far away!

III.

At the starless midnight hour,
When winter rules with boundless power:
As the storms the forests tear,
And thunders rend the howling air,
Listening to the doubling roar,
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can--I weep and pray,
For his weal that's far away.

IV.

Peace, thy olive wand extend,
And bid wild war his ravage end,
Man with brother man to meet,
And as a brother kindly greet:
Then may heaven with prosp'rous gales,
Fill my sailor's welcome sails,
To my arms their charge convey--
My dear lad that's far away.
On the seas and far away
On stormy seas and far away;
Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
Are ay with him that's far away.

* * * * *




CCXXV.

CA' THE YOWES.

[Burns formed this song upon an old lyric, an amended version of which
he had previously communicated to the Museum: he was fond of musing in
the shadow of Lincluden towers, and on the banks of Cluden Water. ]


I.

Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them whare the heather growes,
Ca' them whare the burnie rowes--
My bonnie dearie!
Hark the mavis' evening sang
Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
Then a faulding let us gang,
My bonnie dearie.

II.

We'll gae down by Cluden side,
Thro' the hazels spreading wide,
O'er the waves that sweetly glide
To the moon sae clearly.

III.

Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
Where at moonshine midnight hours,
O'er the dewy bending flowers,
Fairies dance so cheery.

IV.

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near,
My bonnie dearie.

V.

Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die--but canna part--
My bonnie dearie!
Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them whare the heather growes;
Ca' them where the burnie rowes--
My bonnie dearie!

* * * * *




CCXXVI.

SHE SAYS SHE LOVES ME BEST OF A'.

Tune--"_Onagh's Waterfall. _"

[The lady of the flaxen ringlets has already been noticed: she is
described in this song with the accuracy of a painter, and more than
the usual elegance of one: it is needless to add her name, or to say
how fine her form and how resistless her smiles. ]


I.