Poem by Isabel Pagan

Aughlen Spring

Tune—Bush Aboon Traquair

Give ear to me of each degree,
Pity my lamentation,
The youth I lov'd is gone from me,
Which causes great vexation.
He is design'd to share his fate,
Out o'er the trackless ocean,
He's cross'd the sea, and gone from me,
When love was in the blossom.

Near Aughlen spring where birds do sing,
While he was here beside me,
I had no fear while he was near,
Whatever might betide me.
I'll visit aft the hawthorn tree,
Where calmly first he told me,
Fine tales of love so comely,
Whiles round he did enfold me.

His handsome shape and manly wit,
His love refin'd and tender,
Superior far, I vow and swear,
To the wealth of Alexander.
And I myself, for want of wealth,
Was frown'd on by his mother,
But for his sake I'll single live,
And ne'er wed any other.

O! may the powers preserve him still,
And keep him safe from danger,
His eyes from viewing youthful toys,
His heart from every stranger.
But if that Fate do favour him,
That he advance in treasure,
And soon return, I'll cease to mourn,
Renewing former pleasure.

1. Now Once a Young Man Courted Me
2. There Came a Bold Hero of Late from the West
3. The Duke of Gordon's Fencibles
4. A New Song on the Times
5. Account of the Author’s Lifetime

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