Besides, I had frae the great laird, The maid put on her kirtle brown, The lover he stended up in haste, To win your love, maid, I'm come here, I'm young, and hae enough o' gear; And for my sell you need na fear, He took aff his bonnet, and spat in his chew, The maiden blusht and bing'd fu' law, She had na will to say him na, But to her dady she left it a' As they twa cou'd agree. The lover he gae her the tither kiss, Syne ran to her dady, and tell'd him this, With a fal, dal, &c. Your doghter wad na say me na, But to your sell she has left it a', As we cou'd gree between us twa; Say what'll ye gi' me wi' her? Now, wooer, quo' he, I ha'e na meikle, But sic's I ha'e ye's get a pickle, With a fal, dal, &c. A kilnfu of corn I'll gi'e to thee, Three soums of sheep, twa good milk ky, Ye's ha'e the wadding dinner free; Troth I dow do na mair. Content, quo' he, a bargain be't, I'm far frae hame, make haste let's do't, With a fal, dal, &c. The bridal day it came to pass, Wi' mony a blythsome lad and lass; But sicken a day there never was, Sic mirth was never seen. This winsome couple straked hands, Mess John ty'd up the marriage bands, With a fal, dal, &c. And our bride's maidens were na few, Wi' tap-knots, lug-knots, a' in blew, Frae tap to tae they were braw new, And blinkit bonnilie. Their toys and mutches were sae clean, Sic hirdum, dirdum, and sic din, * With a fal, dal, &c. THE SMILING PLAINS. THESE elegant lines were written by poor Falconer, the author of The Shipwreck. The smiling plains profusely gay, To rapture wake the vocal grove. * Of Falconer, Burns writes to Mrs. Dunlop, in the following exquisite strain of tenderness. "Falconer, the unfortunate author But ah! Miranda, without thee, I mourn thy absence, charming maid! author of the Shipwreck, that glorious Poem, is no more. After weathering that dreadful catastrophe he so feelingly describes in his Poem, and after weathering many hard gales of fortune, he went to the bottom with the Aurora frigate! I forget what part of Scotland had the honor of giving him birth; but he was the son of obscurity and misfortune. He was one of those daring adventurous spirits which old Caledonia, beyond any other nation, is remarkable for producing. Little does the fond mother think, as she hangs delighted over the sweet little leech at her bosom, where the poor fellow may hereafter wander, and what may be his fate. I remember a stanza in an old Scots ballad which, notwithstanding its rude simplicity, speaks feelingly to the heart Little did my mother think, That day she cradled me, Or what death I should die! In addition to these remarks it will be proper to add, that William Falconer was born in Edinburgh about the year 1730, where his father was a barber. William, at a very early age, went on board a Leith merchantman, in which he served an apprenticeship. In 1769 we find him purser of the Aurora frigate. This vessel sailed for India the same year, and was never more heard O soft as love! as honour fair! Can all my absence past atone. heard of. Various reports have arisen respecting the fate of the Aurora, which was last heard of at the Cape of Good Hope in December 1769; but the prevalent opinion is, that she took fire at sea in the night-time, and blew up. In his person, Falconer was of the middle size, sparely made, and with a dark weatherbeaten countenance, marked by the small-pox. No remains of the family are now known to exist in Edinburgh. A sister, who was supposed to be the last surviving, died within these few years in a workhouse there. Edinburgh Ed. of the Shipwreck, 1807. |