On these Nysæan shores divine The clusters ripen in a day. At dawn the blossom shreds away; The berried grapes are green and f… And full by noon; in day’s decline

Friend, when you bear a care-dulle… And brow perplexed with things of… And fain would bid some charm unti… The bonds that hold you all too st… Behold a solace to your fate,

The modish Airs, The Tansey Brew, The SWAINS and FAIRS In curtained Pew; Nymphs KNELLER drew,

Nay, be you pardoner or cheat, Or cogger keen, or mumper shy, You’ll burn your fingers at the fe… And howl like other folks that fry… All evil folks that love a lie!

I went to the mill, but the miller… I sat me down, and cried ochone! To think on the days that are past… Of Dickie Macphalion that’s slain… Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a’ day on a hill; Whan night was cum, and sun was se… They had not talkt their fill. Lord Thomas said a word in jest,

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow lo… An’ a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang will my young son greet… Or his mither bid him come ben. I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow lo…

Mysterious Benedetta! who That Reynolds or that Romney drew Was ever half so fair as you, Or is so well forgot? These eyes of melancholy brown,

DEAD, with their eyes to the foe… Dead, with the foe at their feet; Under the sky laid low Truly their slumber is sweet, Though the wind from the Camp of…

Whan he cam to his ain luve’s boui… He tirled at the pin, And sae ready was his fair fause l… To rise and let him in. ‘O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland,’…

Oh, where are the endless Romance… Our grandmothers used to adore? The Knights with their helms and… Their shields and the favours they… And the Monks with their magical…

I have scribbled in verse and in p… I have painted “arrangements in gr… And my name is familiar to those Who take in the high class magazin… I compose; I’ve invented machines…

Rome does right well to censure al… Talk of Jansenius, and of them wh… That earthly joys are damnable! ’… We need not charge at Heaven as a… No, amble on! We’ll gain it, one…

Late at e’en, drinking the wine, And ere they paid the lawing, They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawing. ‘Oh, stay at hame, my noble lord,

Some speak of lords, some speak of… And sic like men of high degree; Of a gentleman I sing a sang, Some time call’d Laird of Gilnock… The king he writes a loving letter…