Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, Thou dart of heaven that flashest by, Ye mustering thunders from above, But spare, and pardon my fause love, MARY MORISON, Tune,' Bide ye yet.' O MARY, at thy window be, It is the wish'd, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How blithly wad I bide the stoure, Yestreen when to the trembling string, I sat, but neither heard or saw : SONGS. O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, WANDERING WILLIE. HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting; It was na the blast brought the tear to my e'e: Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Ye hurricanes, rest in the cave o' your slumbers, But if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nanie, O still flow between us, thou wide roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it, But dying believe that my Willie's my ain! THE SAME, As altered by Mr. Erskine and Mr. Thomson. HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and caul at our parting, Rest ye But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie, Flow still between us thou dark-heaving main! May I never see it, may I never trow it, While dying I think that my Willie's my ain. Our Poet, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others. The last edition is as follows: HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame : Come to my bosom my ain only dearie, Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e, Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wauken ye breezes, row gently ye billows, And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie, Flow still between us thou wide-roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it, But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain. OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH! WITH ALTERATIONS. On, open the door, some pity to shew, Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide; She sees his pale corse on the plain, Oh! My true love, she cried, and sank down by his side, Never to rise again, Oh! JESSIE. Tune Bonnie Dundee." TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, O, fresh is the rose in the gay, dew, orning, |