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For if confusion have a part,
Which virtuous souls abhor,
And never love thee more.
And I will reign alone,
A rival on my throne.
Or his deserts are small,
To gain or lose it all.
And always give the law,
And all to stand in awe :
batt’ries if I find Thou storm or vex me sore, As if thou set me as a blind,
I'll never love thee more.
Where I should solely be,
Or dare to share with me;
Or go on such a score,
And never love thee more.
Thy love and constant word,
And glorious by my sword,
I'll serve thee in such noble ways,
As ne'er was known before;
And love thee more and more.
(From Watson's Collection, 1711.]
THE BLYTHSOME BRIDAL.
FRANCIS SEMPLE OF BELTREES.
Fy let us a' to the bridal,
For there will be lilting there ;
The lass wi’ the gowden hair.
And bannocks o' barley-meal ;
To relish a cog of good ale.
And there will be Sawney the sutor,
And Will wi' the meikle mou'; And there will be Tam the blutter,
With Andrew the tinkler, I trow; And there will be bow-legged Robie,
With thumbless Katy's goodman ; And there will be blue-cheeked Dobie,
And Laurie the laird of the land.
And there will be sow-libber Patie,
And plooky-fac'd Wat o' the mill, Capper-nos'd Francie and Gibbie,
That wins in the how of the hill ; And there will be Alaster Sibbie,
Wha in with black Bessie did mool, With snivelling Lilly, and Tibby,
The lass that stands aft on the stool. And Madge that was buckled to Steenie,
And coft him grey breeks to his am, Who after was hangit for stealing,
Great mercy it happen'd na warse : And there will be gleed Geordy Janners,
And Kirsh with the lily-white leg, Wha gade to the south for manners,
* And danced the daft dance' in Mons-meg. And there will be Judan Maclaurie,
And blinkin daft Barbara Macleg, Wi' flae-lugged sharney-fac'd Laurie,
And shangy-mou'd haluket Meg. And there will be happer-a—'d Nancy,
And fairy-fac'd Flowrie by name, Muck Madie, and fat hippit Grisy,
The lass wi' the gowden wame. And there will be Girn-again-Gibbie,
With his glaikit wife Jenny Bell, And misle-shinn’d Mungo Macapie,
The lad that was skipper himsel. There lads and lasses in pearlings
Will feast in the heart of the ha', On sybows, and rifarts, and carlings,
That baith sodden and raw
And there will be fadges and brochan,
With fouth of good gabbocks of skate,
And caller nowt-feet in a plate.
And whitens and speldings enew,
And scadlips to sup till ye spew.
And there will be lapper'd milk kebbocks,
And sowens, and farls, and baps,
And brandy in stoups and in caps :
With skink to sup till ye rive,
Of Aukes that were taken alive.
Scrapt haddock, wilks, dulse and tangle,
And a mill of good snishing to prie;
We'll rise up and dance till we die.
For there will be lilting there;
The lass wi' the gowden hair.
[This very lively and graphic old song was first published in Watson's Collection of Scottish Poetry, 1706.]
SHE ROSE AND LOOT ME IN.
FRANCIS SEMPLE OF BELTREES,
The night her silent sable wore,
And gloomy were the skies,
Than those in Nelly's eyes ;
Where I had often been,
To rise and let me in.
She trembling stood ashamed-
And every touch inflamed.
She did my warmth reprove,The more she spoke, the more she looked,
The warmer waxed my love. Then, then beyond expressing,
Transporting was the joy!
So blest a man was I:
Bid me oft come again,
She'd rise and let me in.
When stars were streaming free,
And stood and gazed on me: