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The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) - Gredos ...

The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) - Gredos ...

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<strong>The</strong> Salamanca Corpus: <strong>The</strong> <strong>Poetical</strong> <strong>Works</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Miss</strong> <strong>Susanna</strong> <strong>Blamire</strong> (<strong>1842</strong>)<br />

larity it has all along enjoyed. <strong>The</strong> edition given, the best<br />

that has yet been in types, is printed from a copy <strong>of</strong> several<br />

<strong>of</strong> her poems and songs, fairly and carefully written out, a<br />

pparently either for publication or for the perusal <strong>of</strong> a friend,<br />

all <strong>of</strong> which appear to have got her final corrections. See the air<br />

in Neil Gow’s First Collection <strong>of</strong> Reels, &c. 3d.edit.p.8. It forms<br />

the 541st song in “<strong>The</strong> Scots Musical Museum,” vol. vi., first<br />

published in June 1803. <strong>The</strong> original title <strong>of</strong> the air seems to<br />

have been “My Dearie, an’ thou dee.” It is the second song<br />

to the music, the first being Gall’s beautiful “O, Mary, turn<br />

awa.” “Both <strong>of</strong> these songs,” says Mr Stenhouse, “are excellent.”<br />

[192]<br />

Sae fine she goes, sae far aglee,<br />

That folks she kenn’d she canna see;<br />

An’ fleeching chiels around her thrang,<br />

Till she miskens her a’ day lang.<br />

<strong>The</strong>re’s Jock, when the bit lass was poor,<br />

Ne’er trudg’d o’er the lang mossy moor,<br />

Though now to the knees he wades, I trow,<br />

Through winter’s weet an’ winter’s snow:<br />

An’ Pate declar’d the ither mom,<br />

She was like a lily amang the corn;<br />

Though anee he swore her dazzling een<br />

Were bits o’ glass that black’d had been.<br />

Now, lassies, I hae found it out,<br />

What men make a’ this phrase about;<br />

For when they praise your blinking ee,<br />

’Tis certain that your gowd they see:<br />

An when they talk o’ roses bland,<br />

<strong>The</strong>y think o’ the roses o’ your land;<br />

But should dame Fortune turn her wheel,<br />

<strong>The</strong>y’d aff in a dance <strong>of</strong> a threesome reel.<br />

[193] .<br />

WHEN HOME WE RETURN.<br />

AIR—O say, bonny Lass, will you lie in a barrack?

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