Ah! now soft blushes tinge her cheeks, She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Thy thoughts belong to heaven and thee, And may the secrets of thy soul LXXIX. O POORTITH CAULD AND RESTLESS LOVE. AIR-I had a horse, &c. O poortith cauld, and restless love, And 'twere na for my Jeanie, O why should fate such pleasure have, This warld's wealth when I think on, That he should be the slave o't. Her een sae bonnie blue betray, O why should fate, &c. O wha can prudence think upon, O why should fate, &c. How blest the humble cottar's fate! Can never make him eerie. O why should fate, &c. LXXX. WHERE IS MY OWEN. Where is my Owen, where is my true love! O saw ye the shepherd that's dearest to me? Long, long does he tarry, ah! surely some new love Fain would I think so sad when we parted Heavens, who comes yonder? ah! 'tis my Owen, Now, foolish tears, wherefore, why thus are ye flowing, No, he'll never leave me, no never deceive me, O! heaven, those kind glances! my joy is complete. LXXXI. A TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY*. Merrily every bosom boundeth, Merrily oh! merrily oh! Where the song of Freedom soundeth, Merrily oh! merrily oh! There the warrior's arms Shed more splendour, There the maiden's charms Shine more tender, Every joy the land surroundeth, Merrily oh! merrily oh! *This song is adapted to the Tyrolese national air, the words by Thomas Moore, Esq. Wearily every bosom pineth, Wearily oh! wearily oh! Where the bond of slavery twineth, Wearily oh! wearily oh! There the warrior's dart Hath no fleetness, There the maiden's heart Hath no sweetness, Every flower of life declineth, Cheerily then from hill and valley, Like your native fountains sally, If a glorious death Won by bravery, Sweeter be than breath Sigh'd in slavery, Round the flag of freedom rally, Cheerily oh! cheerily oh! |