Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Goldfinch, or, new modern songster

n^ A C O L L E C T I O N
How oft (he has heard my fond tale.
And fmil'd on the fuit of my love..
But, oh cruel change that I find,
The gentle is now grown fevere.
More cold than the north's, chilling wind,
That blafts the young bud of the ^eart
Range wildly, my flock': and my herd- j
Begone from your iiiafter. pour Tray j
My pipe (hail oo more wike the birds,
I'll break it and fling u away. •
Some defart ail barren and b!ake,
Shall (hield me from every eye ;
There, Peggy, I'll weep for thy f ke,
I'll weep, cruel maid, and I'li die.
S O N G CLIV.
_ Highland March.
N the garb of old Gaul, wi' the fire of old Rome,
From the heath cover'd mountains of Scotia we
come,
Where the Romans endeavoui'd our -country to gain.
But our antedors fought, and they fought not in vain.
Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws,
That^ like our old ancertors, we (land by Freedom's
caufe ;
We'll bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and
applaufe.
And defy the .French; with all their art, to alter our
laws.
Ko effeminate cuOoms om* finews unbrace,
ISo luxurious tables enervate our race j
Our loud founding pipe bears the" true martial ftrain^_
So do we the old Scc/tdlh valour reta'n.
Such our kve. f^c.