Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty, In ae constellation shine; To adore thee is my duty, Goddess o' this soul o' mine! Bonie wee thing, &c. THE TITHER MORN. THIS tune is originally from the Highlands.-I have heard a Gaelic song to it, which I was told was very clever, but not by any means a lady's song. A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON. Tune-FINLAYSTON HOUSE. THIS most beautiful tune is, I think, the happiest composition of that bard-born genius, John Riddel, of the family of Glencarnock, at Ayr.-The words were composed to commemorate the much lamented, and premature death of James Ferguson, Esq. jun. of Craigdarroch. Fate gave the word, the arrow sped, By cruel hands the sapling drops, The mother linnet in the brake Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow, Now, fond, I bare my breast, DAINTJE DAVIE. THIS song, tradition says, and the composition itself confirms it, was composed on the Rev. David Williamson's getting the daughter of Lady Cherrytrees with child, while a party of dragoons were searching her house to apprehend him for being an adherent to the solemn league and covenant.-The pious woman had put a lady's night-cap on him, and had laid him a-bed with her own daughter, and passed him to the soldiery as a lady, her daughter's bed-fellow. A mutilated stanza or two are to be found in Herd's collection, but the original song consists of five or six stanzas, and were their delicacy equal to their wit and humor, they would merit a place in any collection.-The first stanza is,— Being pursued by the dragoons, Ramsay's song, Luckie Nansie, though he calls it an * The Editor has been honoured with the following communication respecting this song from Lord Woodhouselee. "I have reason to believe that no part of the words of this song was written by Ramsay. I have been informed by good authority, that the words, as printed in Ramsay's Collection, were written by the Hon. Duncan Forbes, Lord President of the Court of Session. The words of another Scots air, which have much merit, Merry may the Maid be that marries the Miller,' were written by Sir John Clerk, of Pennicuik, Baron of Exchequer in Scotland." LUCKY NANSIE. While fops in soft Italian verse, Ilk fair ane's een and breast rehearse, While sangs abound and scene is scarce, These lines I have indited: But neither darts nor arrows here, I was ay telling you Lucky Nansy, Lucky Nansy, Nor snaw with crimson will I mix, To spread upon my lassie's cheeks; I'll fetch nae simile frae Jove, With roses eke and lilies. I was ay telling you, &c. But stay, I had amaist forgot I was ay telling you, &c. Now ken, my reverend sonsy fair, Nae skyring gowk, my dear, can see, Leez me on thy snawy pow, Troth I have sung the sang to you, |