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lished in a collection (The Lark) possessed by Burns, it certainly may be ranked as one of his earliest ef forts. 1

I DREAMED I lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam;

Listening to the wild birds singing,

By a falling, crystal stream:

Straight the sky grew black and daring;
Through the woods the whirlwinds rave:
Trees with aged arms were warring,

O'er the swelling drumlie wave.

Such was my life's deceitful morning,
Such the pleasure I enjoyed;

But lang or noon, loud tempests storming,
A' my flowery bliss destroyed.
Though fickle Fortune has deceived me,

troubled

She promised fair, and performed but ill;
Of mony a joy and hope bereaved me;
I bear a heart shall support me still.

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Lang or noon loud tempests storming.- Burns.
Loud tempests storming before parting day. — Mrs. C.
Swelling drumlie wave.-. Burns.

Grow drumlie and dark.—Mrs. C.

Though fickle Fortune has deceived me.- Burns.

O fickle Fortune, why this cruel sporting? - Mrs. C.

I bear a heart shall support me still. - Burns.

егр

Thy frowns cannot fear me, thy smiles cannot cheer me.Mrs. C.

MY NANNIE, O.

TUNE- My Nannie, O.

The love affairs of the Scottish peasantry were, in those days, and in some measure are still, conducted in what appears a singular manner. The young farmer or ploughman, after his day of exhausting toil, would proceed to the home of his mistress, one, two, three, or more miles distant, there signal her to the door, and then the pair would seat themselves in the barn for an hour or two's conversation. It was a primitive fashion, owing its origin probably to the limited domestic accommodations of early times, and fathers and mothers appear to have found no occasion for visiting it with condemnation. In the parish of Torbolton, Robert Burns both launched into this mode of courtship himself, and helped in the similar courtships of others. . . . . A surviving companion of the poet in these early days, says that he composed a song on almost every tolerable-looking lass in the parish, and finally one in which they were all included.

The Nannie of this song was, according to Gilbert Burns, one Agnes Fleming, a farmer's daughter in Torbolton parish; according to Mrs. Begg, Peggy Thomson of Kirkoswald.

BEHIND yon hills where Stinsiar flows,1
'Mang moors and mosses many, O,

In subsequent copies, Burns was induced to substitute for the Stinsiar, which has local verity in its favor, the Lugar

The wintry sun the day has closed,
And I'll awa' to Nannie, O.

The westlin wind blaws loud and shill;
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O;
But I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal,
And owre the hills to Nannie, O.

My Nannie's charming, sweet, and young,
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, 0:
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O!

Her face is fair, her heart is true,

As spotless as she's bonny, O: The opening gowan, wet wi' dew, Nae purer is than Nannie, O.

A country lad is my degree,

And few there be that ken me, O; But what care I how few they be? I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O.

My riches a's my penny-fee,

shrik

daisy

wages

And I maun guide it canny, O;

carefully

But warl's gear ne'er troubles me, world's wealth

My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.

name thought to be more euphonious, but which is other wise unsuitable.

Our auld guidman delights to view

His sheep and kye thrive bonny, O; But I'm as blithe that bauds his pleugh, And has nae care but Nannie, O.

Come weel, come wo, I care nae by,
I'll tak what Heaven will send me, O;
Nae ither care in life have I,

But live and love my Nannie, O.

TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.

TUNE- Invercauld's Reel.

Other songs of the period are of a humorous cast, showing that the course of the poet's loves did not always run quite smooth. It was in the following doughty strain that he addressed a neighboring maiden, who chose to consider herself as somewhat too good for him.

O TIBBIE, I hae seen the day
Ye wad na been sae shy;

For lack o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.

Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,

But fient a hair care I.

slight

about t

Last eve

dust

mock

deuce

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er you like to try.

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Although his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,

That looks sae proud and high.

Although a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head another airt,
And answer him fu' dry.

money

wenel

direction

But if he hae the name o' gear,

Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,

wealth

Though hardly he, for sense or lear,
Be better than the kye.

learning

But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice,

Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice;
The deil a ane wad speer your price,
Were ye as poor as I.

There lives a lass in yonder park,
I would na gie her in her sark,
For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark;
Ye need na look sae high.

ask

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