I have this moment
finished
the song, so you have it glowing
from the mint.
from the mint.
Robert Burns
on wi' me!
V.
By oppression's woes and pains!
By our sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be--shall be free!
VI.
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!
* * * * *
CCVIII.
BEHOLD THE HOUR.
Tune--"_Oran-gaoil. _"
["The following song I have composed for the Highland air that you
tell me in your last you have resolved to give a place to in your
book.
I have this moment finished the song, so you have it glowing
from the mint. " These are the words of Burns to Thomson: he might have
added that the song was written on the meditated voyage of Clarinda to
the West Indies, to join her husband. ]
I.
Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
Thou goest, thou darling of my heart!
Sever'd from thee can I survive?
But fate has will'd, and we must part.
I'll often greet this surging swell,
Yon distant isle will often hail:
"E'en here I took the last farewell;
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail. "
II.
Along the solitary shore
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say,
Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me?
* * * * *
CCIX.
THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.
Tune--"_Fee him, father. _"
["I do not give these verses," says Burns to Thomson, "for any merit
they have. I composed them at the time in which 'Patie Allan's mither
died, about the back o' midnight,' and by the lee side of a bowl of
punch, which had overset every mortal in company, except the hautbois
and the muse. " To the poet's intercourse with musicians we owe some
fine songs.
V.
By oppression's woes and pains!
By our sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be--shall be free!
VI.
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!
* * * * *
CCVIII.
BEHOLD THE HOUR.
Tune--"_Oran-gaoil. _"
["The following song I have composed for the Highland air that you
tell me in your last you have resolved to give a place to in your
book.
I have this moment finished the song, so you have it glowing
from the mint. " These are the words of Burns to Thomson: he might have
added that the song was written on the meditated voyage of Clarinda to
the West Indies, to join her husband. ]
I.
Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
Thou goest, thou darling of my heart!
Sever'd from thee can I survive?
But fate has will'd, and we must part.
I'll often greet this surging swell,
Yon distant isle will often hail:
"E'en here I took the last farewell;
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail. "
II.
Along the solitary shore
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say,
Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me?
* * * * *
CCIX.
THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.
Tune--"_Fee him, father. _"
["I do not give these verses," says Burns to Thomson, "for any merit
they have. I composed them at the time in which 'Patie Allan's mither
died, about the back o' midnight,' and by the lee side of a bowl of
punch, which had overset every mortal in company, except the hautbois
and the muse. " To the poet's intercourse with musicians we owe some
fine songs.
