She Rose And Let Me In
This is another of the five tunes (or songs) James Oswald set for his Sonata on Scots Tunes. You can find all the 5 on the recording posted on the Session (others are O Mother what shall I do, Ettrick Banks, Cromlit’s Lilt and Polwart on the Green) - all good tunes.
Words given here are from The Book of Scottish Song (1843) :-
[The old song of "She rose and let me in" was written by Francis Semple, Esq. of Beltrees, in Renfrewshire, but is too indelicate for admission. Semple lived about the middle of the seventeenth century. A manuscript volume of his poems is known to have been in the possession of a lady in Paisley within the last thirty years, but unfortunately all trace of it is now lost. Ritson says, "This song (the present) is an English song of great merit, and has been Scotified by the Scots themselves." But the reverse happens to be the case, for it is a Scotch song, and has been Anglified by the Scots themselves. The original Scotch words are to be found, with the music, in Playford’s "Choice Ayres and Songs," 1683, also (without the music) in Ramsay’s Tea-Table Miscellany, Herd’s Collection, &c. What may be called the Anglified version (which we here give) first appeared in Johnson’s Museum. Burns was mistaken in thinking that Ramsay was the author of this version—for Ramsay gives the original words with all their warmth and high colouring.]
The night her sable mantle wore,
And gloomy were the skies;
Of glitt’ring stars appear’d no more,
Than those in Nelly’s eyes.
When to her father’s door I came,
Where I had often been,
I begg’d my fair, my lovely dame,
To rise and let me in.
But she with accents all divin,
Did my fond suit reprove;
And while she chid my rash design,
She but inflamed my love.
Her beauty oft had pleased before,
While her bright eyes did roll;
But virtue had the very power
To charm my very soul.
Then who would cruelly deceive,
Or from such beauty part?
I loved her so, I could not leave
The charmer of my heart.
My eager fondness I obey’d,
Resolved she should be mine,
Till Hymen to my arms convey’d
My treasure so divine.
Now, happy in my Nelly’s love,
Transporting is my joy;
No greater blessing can I prove,
So blest a man am I:
For beauty may a while retain
The conquer’d flutt’ring heart;
But virtue only is the chain
Holds, never to depart.