colours and fascinating forms of lyric composition. The heroine of this song was, in 1793, a young and lovely lady, Miss Macmurdo of Drumlanrig, now Mrs. Crawford. The poet was a welcome visitant at her father's house. He painted her in the dress and character of a cottager; and this has induced many people to believe that he was the hero himself, and his wife the heroine. It was from Mrs. Burns's voice that the fine air of the song was noted down.

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR?

Wha is that at my bower door?—

O wha is it but Findlay ?

Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here!
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.
What make ye here sae like a thief?
O come and see, quo' Findlay-
Before the morn ye'll work mischief!-
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Gif I rise and let you in

Let me in, quo' Findlay

Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din—

Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

In

my bower if

ye

should stay

Let me stay, quo' Findlay

I fear ye'll bide till break o' day!—
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Here this night if ye remain-
I'll remain, quo' Findlay-

I dread ye'll learn the gate again !—
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
What may pass within this bower-
Let it pass, quo' Findlay-

Ye maun conceal till your last hour !--
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Mr. Cromek was assured by Gilbert Burns, that "Wha's that at my bower door" was suggested early in life to his brother's fancy by the song of "Widow, are ye waukin," in Ramsay's collection. That clever old lyric was frequently sung to the poet in his youth by Jean Wilson, a widow of Tarbolton, remarkable for simplicity and naïveté of character, and for singing curious old-world songs. She had outlived all her children, yet when she performed domestic worship, she still imagined them all around her, and gave out each line of the psalm with an audible voice, as though she had an audience.

My auld auntie Katie
Upon me takes pity;
I'll do my endeavour

To follow her plan;

I'll cross him, and wrack him,
Until I heart-break him,

And then his auld brass

Will buy me a new pan.

The name of an old song suggested these happy verses to Burns: they were written for Johnson's Museum. The original lyric made the blooming heroine threaten her ancient wooer with a number of personal penalties if he succeeded in making her his wife; but I think the more delicate heroine of Burns took a surer way to send the gray hairs of her old lover in sorrow to the grave. Her system seems certain and effectual—a regular, organised plan of domestic annoyance. This counsel comes from the lips of an aunt-one of those calculating dames whom lyric poets employ in giving good or evil advice according as the demon of worldly interest prevails. Some sage lady, of "wrinkled eld," perhaps, made the match, which another seeks to dissolve by a process as sure as a parliamentary divorce.

GLOOMY WINTER'S NOW AWA'.

Gloomy winter's now awa',
Saft the westlin breezes blaw:
'Mang the birks o' Stanely-shaw
The mavis sings fu' cheerie-o.
Sweet the craw-flower's early bell
Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell,
Blooming like thy bonnie sel',

My young, my artless dearie-o.
Come, my lassie, let us stray,
O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae,
Blithely spend the gowden day

Midst joys that never wearie-o.

Tow'ring o'er the Newton woods,
Lavrocks fan the snaw-white clouds;
Siller saughs, wi' downie buds,

Adorn the banks sae brierie-o.

Round the sylvan fairy nooks, Feath'ry brekans fringe the rocks, 'Neath the brae the burnie jouks,

And ilka thing is cheerie-o. Trees may bud, and birds may sing, Flow'rs may bloom, and verdure spring,

Joy to me they canna bring,

Unless wi' thee, my dearie-o.