JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUNBLANE THE Sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, While lanely I stray, in the calm simmer gloamin', To muse on sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dunblane. How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft fauldin' blossom, She's modest as ony, and blithe as she's bonnie; 7 Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet Flower o' Dunblane Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening! How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie!" Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain, And reckon as naething the height o' its splendor, If wanting sweet Jessie, the Flower o' Dunblane. Robert Tannahill [1774-1810] MARGARET'S beauteous-Grecian arts Hold I Dora's sweeter? "It Is Not Beauty I Demand" 547 "IT IS NOT BEAUTY I DEMAND " It is not Beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Nor the snow's daughter, a white hand, Nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair: Tell me not of your starry eyes, A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks Than summer winds a-wooing flowers, These are but gauds: nay, what are lips? And what are cheeks but ensigns oft Eyes can with baleful ardor burn; Poison can breathe, that erst perfumed; There's many a white hand holds an urn With lovers' hearts to dust consumed. For crystal brows-there's naught within; Give me, instead of Beauty's bust, Yet never linked with error find,— One in whose gentle bosom I Could pour my secret heart of woes, Like the care-burthened honey-fly That hides his murmurs in the rose,- My earthly Comforter! whose love That, when my spirit won above, Hers could not stay, for sympathy. George Darley [1795-1846] SONG SHE is not fair to outward view As many maidens be, Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me; Oh! then I saw her eye was bright, But now her looks are coy and cold, Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are. Hartley Coleridge [1796-1849] SONG A VIOLET in her lovely hair, A rose upon her bosom fair! But O, her eyes A lovelier violet disclose, And her ripe lips the sweetest rose A lute beneath her graceful hand Eileen Aroon But still her tongue Far richer music calls to birth Than all the minstrel power on earth And thus she moves in tender light, And sheds a graceful influence round, Beneath her feet! 549 Charles Swain [1801-1874] EILEEN AROON WHEN like the early rose, Eileen Aroon! Beauty in childhood blows, When, like a diadem, Buds blush around the stem, Which is the fairest gem?- Is it the laughing eye, Eileen Aroon! Is it the timid sigh, Eileen Aroon! Is it the tender tone, Soft as the stringed harp's moan? O, it is truth alone,— Eileen Aroon! When like the rising day, Eileen Aroon! Love sends his early ray, What makes his dawning glow, Changeless through joy or woe? Eileen Aroon! I know a valley fair, Eileen Aroon! I knew a cottage there, Eileen Aroon! Far in that valley's shade Eileen Aroon! Who in the song so sweet? Who in the dance so fleet? Eileen Aroon! Dear were her charms to me Dearest her constancy, Eileen Aroon! Were she no longer true, Eileen Aroon! What should her lover do? Eileen Aroon! Fly with his broken chain Far o'er the sounding main, Eileen Aroon! Youth must with time decay, Beauty must fade away, Eileen Aroon! Castles are sacked in war, Chieftains are scattered far, Eileen Aroon! Gerald Griffin [1803-1840] ANNIE LAURIE MAXWELTON braes are bonnie Where early fa's the dew, Gie'd me her promise true |