Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green That waves by yon brook where the wild-flowers grow sheen; And braiding my harp wi' the sweet budding rue, It mellow'd its tones 'mang the saft falling dew; It whisper'd a strain that I wist na to hear, That false was the la.s.sie my bosom held dear; Pride stirr'd me to sing, as I tore off the rue-- If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!

Yet aft when reflection brings back to my mind The days that are gane, when my la.s.sie was kind, A sigh says I felt then as ne'er I feel now, My soul was enraptured--I canna tell how.

Yet what need I sing o' the joys that hae been, And why should I start at the glance o' her een, Or think o' the dark locks that wave o'er her brow?-- If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!

Yestreen when the sun glinted blithe on the hill, I met her alane by the flower-border'd rill, I speer'd for her weelfare, but cauld was her air, And I soughtna' to change it by foul words or fair; She says I deceived her, how can it be sae?

The heart, ere deceived some affection maun hae, And that hers had nane, I the sairer may rue, Though she 's got ae sweetheart, an' I can get two.

She left me for ane wha o' mailins could sing, Sae gie her the pleasures that riches can bring.

Gae fame to the hero, and gowd to the Jew, And me the enjoyment that 's prized by the few; A friend o' warm feeling, and frank and refined, And a la.s.sie that 's modest, true hearted, and kind, I 'll woo her, I 'll lo'e her, and best it will do, For love brings nae bliss when it tampers wi' two.

HOW 'S A' WI' YE.

AIR--_"Jenny's Bawbee."_

Ere foreign fashions cross'd the Tweed, A bannet happ'd my daddie's head, Our daintiest fare was milk-and-bread, Folk scunner'd a' at tea; When cronies met they didna stand, To rule their words by manners grand, But warmly clasping hand in hand, Said, How 's a' wi' ye.

But now there 's nought but shy finesse, And mim and prim 'bout mess and dress, That scarce a hand a hand will press Wi' ought o' feeling free; A cauldrife pride aside has laid The hodden gray, and hame-spun plaid, And a' is changed since neebors said Just, How 's a' wi' ye.

Our auld guidwife wore cloak and hood, The maiden's gown was worset guid, And kept her ringlets in a snood Aboon her pawkie e'e; Now set wi' gaudy gumflowers roun', She flaunts it in her silken gown, That scarce ane dare by glen or town Say, How 's a' wi' ye.

I watna how they manage now Their brides in lighted ha's to woo, But it is caulder wark, I trow, Than e'er it was wi' me; Aye true unto the trysts we set, When we among the hawthorns met, Love-warm, true love wad scarce us let Say, How 's a' wi' ye.

Wae-worth their haughty state and style, That drive true feeling frae our isle!

In saxty years o' care and toil, What ferlies do we see!

The lowliest heart a pride displays, Unkent in our ain early days, Ilk kind and canty thing decays, Wi', How 's a' wi' ye.

When back we look on bygane years, Weel may the cheek be wet wi' tears, The cauld mool mony a bosom bears, Ance dear to you and me; Yet I will neither chafe nor chide, While ane comes to my ingle side, Whose bosom glows wi' honest pride At, How 's a' wi' ye.

Newfangled guffs may things arrange For further and still further change, But strange things shall to me be strange, While I can hear and see.

And when I gang, as I 'll do soon, To join the leal in hames aboon, I 'll greet them just as aye I 've doon, Wi', How 's a' wi' ye.

OH! SAIR I FEEL THE WITCHING POWER.

TUNE--_"Miller of Dron," improved set._

Oh, sair I feel the witching power O' that sweet pawkie e'e, And sair I 'll rue the luckless hour That e'er it shone on me; Unless sic love as wounds this heart Come frae that heart again, And teach for aye the kindly ray To blink on me alane.

Thy modest cheek aye mantling glows Whene'er I talk o' love, As rainbow rays upon the rose Its native sweets improve; Yet when the sunbeams leave yon tower, And gloamin' vails the glen, Will ye gang to the birken bower When nane on earth can ken?

Oh, scenes delighting, smiles inviting, Heartfelt pleasures len', And oh! how fain to meet alane, When nane on earth can ken!

Amang the lave I manna speak, And when I look the while, The mair I 'm seen, the mair I seek Their watching to beguile; But leave, dear la.s.sie, leave them a', And frae this heart sae leal Thou 'lt hear the love, by glen and shaw, It canna mair conceal.

My plaid shall shield thy peerless charms Frae evening's fanning gale, And saft shall be my circling arms, And true my simple tale; And seated by the murmuring brook, Within the flowery den, If love 's reveal'd in word or look, There 's nane on earth can ken.

Oh! scenes delighting, smiles inviting, Heartfelt pleasures len', And oh! how fain to meet alane, When nane on earth can ken.

There 's music in the lighted ha', And looks in laughing een, That seem affection forth to show, That less is felt than seen.

But silent in the faithfu' heart The charm o' love shall reign, Or words shall but its power impart To make it mair our ain.

Let worldlings doat upon their wealth, And spendthrifts hae their glee, Not a' the state o' a' the great, Shall draw a wish frae me; Away wi' thee by glen an' bower, Far frae the haunts o' men, Oh! a' the bliss o' hour like this, The world can never ken.

Oh! scenes delighting, smiles inviting, Heartfelt pleasures len', And aye how fain we 'll meet again, When nane on earth can ken.

DANIEL WEIR.

Daniel Weir was born at Greenock, on the 31st of March 1796. His father, John Weir, was a shoemaker, and at one period a small shopkeeper in that town. From his mother, Sarah Wright, he inherited a delicate const.i.tution. His education was conducted at a private school; and in 1809, he became apprentice to Mr Scott, a respectable bookseller in Greenock. In 1815, he commenced business as a bookseller on his own account.

Imbued with the love of learning, and especially of poetry, Weir devoted his hours of leisure to extensive reading and the composition of verses.

To the "Scottish Minstrel" of R. A. Smith, he contributed several respectable songs; and edited for Messrs Griffin & Co., booksellers in Glasgow, three volumes of lyric poems, which appeared under the t.i.tle of "The National Minstrel," "The Sacred Lyre," and "Lyrical Gems." These collections are adorned with many compositions of his own. In 1829, he published a "History of the Town of Greenock," in a thin octavo volume, ill.u.s.trated with engravings. He died on the 11th November 1831, in his thirty-fifth year.

Possessed of a fine genius, a brilliant fancy, and much gracefulness of expression, Weir has decided claims to remembrance. His conversational talents were of a remarkable description, and attracted to his shop many persons of taste, to whom his poetical talents were unknown. He was familiar with the whole of the British poets, and had committed their best pa.s.sages to memory. Possessing a keen relish for the ludicrous, he had at command a store of delightful anecdote, which he gave forth with a quaintness of look and utterance, so as to render the force of the humour totally irresistible. His sarcastic wit was an object of dread to his opponents in burgh politics. His appearance was striking. Rather mal-formed, he was under the middle size; his head seemed large for his person, and his shoulders were of unusual breadth. His complexion was dark, and his eyes hazel; and when his countenance was lit upon the recitation of some witty tale, he looked the impersonation of mirthfulness. Eccentric as were some of his habits and modes of action, he was seriously impressed by religious principle; some of his devotional compositions are admirable specimens of sacred poetry. He left an unpublished MS. poem, ent.i.tled "The Pleasures of Religion."

SEE THE MOON.

See the moon o'er cloudless Jura Shining in the lake below; See the distant mountain tow'ring Like a pyramid of snow.

Scenes of grandeur--scenes of childhood-- Scenes so dear to love and me!

Let us roam by bower and wildwood-- All is lovelier when with thee.

On Leman's breast the winds are sighing; All is silent in the grove; And the flow'rs, with dew-drops glist'ning, Sparkle like the eye of love.

Night so calm, so clear, so cloudless; Blessed night to love and me!

Let us roam by bower and fountain-- All is lovelier when with thee.

LOVE IS TIMID.

Love is timid, love is shy, Can you tell me, tell me why?

Ah! tell me why true love should be Afraid to meet the kindly smile Of him she loves, from him would flee, Yet thinks upon him all the while?

Can you tell me, tell me why Love is timid, love is shy?

Love is timid, love is shy, Can you tell me, tell me why?

True love, they say, delights to dwell In some sequester'd, lonely bow'r, With him she loves, where none can tell Her tender look in pa.s.sion's hour.

Can you tell me, tell me why Love is timid, love is shy?