The Lass O Ballochmyle — текст песни (Burns Robert)

The Lass O` Ballochmyle
(Robert Burns)
`Twas even: the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang,
The zeghyr wanton`d round the bean,
An bore its fragrant sweets alang,
In ev`ry glen the mavis sang,
AII Nature list`ning seem`d the while,
Except where greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o Ballochmyle.
With careless step I onward stray`d,
My heart rejoic`d in Nature`s joy,
When, musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanc`d to spy.
Her look was like the morning`s eye,
Her air like Nature`s vernal smile.
Perfection whisper`d, passing by:-
`Behold the lass o Ballochmyle!`
Fair is the morn in flowery May
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro the garden gay,
Or wand`ring in the lonely wild;
But woman, Nature`s darling child -
There all her charms she does compile -
Even there her other works are foil`d
By the bonie lass o Ballochmyle.
0, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Tho shelter`d in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotia`s plain!
Thro weary winter`s wind and rain
With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonie lass o Ballochmyle!
Then Pride might climb the slipp`ry steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine;
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward seek the Indian mine!
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil;
And ev`ry day have joys divine
With the bonie lass o Ballochmyle.
Tune: Ettrick Banks (89)
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