The Scots musical museum : humbly dedicated to the Catch Club instituted at Edinr June 1771 by James Johnson . ^ That fucrcd -hour can I forget,Can I forget the halloWd grove Where, by the winding Ayr, we metTo live one day of parting love! Eternity cannot efface, Cpd^ Thofe records dear of tranfports- Thy image at our laft embrace, The flowers fprang wanton to be preft,The birds fang love on every fpray, Till too,too fbon the glowing weftProclaimed the fpeed of winged day. Still oer thefe fcenes my memry wakesAnd fondly broods with mifer-care;Ah, little thought we twas our lafti Time but th i
The Scots musical museum : humbly dedicated to the Catch Club instituted at Edinr June 1771 by James Johnson . ^ That fucrcd -hour can I forget,Can I forget the halloWd grove Where, by the winding Ayr, we metTo live one day of parting love! Eternity cannot efface, Cpd^ Thofe records dear of tranfports- Thy image at our laft embrace, The flowers fprang wanton to be preft,The birds fang love on every fpray, Till too,too fbon the glowing weftProclaimed the fpeed of winged day. Still oer thefe fcenes my memry wakesAnd fondly broods with mifer-care;Ah, little thought we twas our lafti Time but th imprefsion ftrongtr makes, As ftreams their channels deeper wearAyr gurgling kifsd his pebbled Chore, My Mary, dear departed Shade! O erhung with wild-wwjds thickening Where is thy place of blifsful reft?The fragrant birch & haw thorn hoar/green; Seeft thou thy Lover lowly laid?Twind amorous round the rapturd fcene; Hear ft thou the groans that rend . (bmft. urn Hardvknate: Or, The Battle of Largs. He livit quhen Britons breach of faith The King of Norfe in rummer tyde,Wroucht Scotland meikle wae; Puft up with powir and micht, And ay his fword tauld to their fkaith, Landed in fair Scotland the yle,He was their deidly fae. With mony a hardy knicht. Hie on a hill his caftle ftude,With halls and towirs a hicht, And guidly chambers fair to he Jodgit mony a knicht, His dame fae peirlefs anes and fair,For chaft and bewtie deimt, Nae marrow had in all the land,Saif Elenor the queen. Full thirtein fons to him fcho bare, All men of valour ftout;In bludy ficht with fword in hand Nvne loft their lives bot doubt; The tydings to our gude Scots king Came, as he fat at dyne,With noble chiefs in braif aray, Drinking the blude-reid wyne. To horfe, to horfe, my royal Liege,Zours faes ftand on the ftrand,Full twenty thoufand gHttering {pearsThe King of Norfe commands Bring me my fteed Mage dapple gray, Our gude King raife and cryd,A truftier beaft in all the landA Scots king nevir
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