THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE.1

Mr. Jeffrey, the clergyman of Lochmaben, had a daughter, a sweet blue-eyed young creature, who at one of Burns's visits, did the honors of the table. Next morning, our poet presented at breakfast a song which has given the young lady immortality.

I GAED a waefu' gate yestreen,

A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue;
I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
Twa lovely een o' bonny blue.
"Twas not her golden ringlets bright,
Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,
Her heaving bosom, lily-white

It was her een sae bonny blue.

road

She talked, she smiled, my heart she wiled; She charmed my soul-I wist na how; And aye the stound, the deadly wound, pang Cam fra her een sae bonny blue.

1 This song was printed in Johnson's Museum, with an air composed by Mr. Riddel of Glenriddel. It has been set by George Thomson to the tune of "The Blathrie o't," but, in the opinion of the present editor, it flows much more sweetly to "My only joe and dearie O."

But, spare to speak, and spare to speed;1

She'll aiblins listen to my vow;

perhaps

Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead death To her twa een sae bonny blue.

SONG.

AIR-Maggy Lauder.

Miss Jeffrey married a gentleman named Renwick, of New York, and was living there about 1822, when a son of Mr. George Thomson was introduced to her by her son, the professor of chemistry in Columbia College.

The following song has been put forward as another composition of Burns in honor of the "Blue-eyed Lassie." It first appeared in the New York Mirror (1846).

WHEN first I saw fair Jeanie's face,
I couldna tell what ailed me,

My heart went fluttering pit-a-pat,
My een they almost failed me.
She's aye sae neat, sae trim, sae tight,
All grace does round her hover,
Ae look deprived me o' my heart,
And I became a lover.

1 A proverbial expression.

She's aye, aye sae blithe, sae gay,
She's aye so blithe and cheerie ;
She's aye sae bonny, blithe, and gay,
O gin I were her dearie!

Had I Dundas's whole estate,

Or Hopetoun's wealth to shine in;
Did warlike laurels crown my brow,
Or humbler bays entwining;
I'd lay them a' at Jeanie's feet,

Could I but hope to move her,
And prouder than a belted knight,
I'd be my Jeanie's lover.

She's aye, aye sae blithe, sae gay,

But sair I fear some happier swain
Has gained sweet Jeanie's favour:
If so, may every bliss be hers,

Though I maun never have her,
But gang she east, or gang she west,
"Twixt Forth and Tweed all over,
While men have eyes, or ears, or taste,
She'll always find a lover.

etc.

She's aye, aye sae blithe, sae gay, etc.

SKETCH - NEW-YEAR'S DAY [1790].

TO MRS. DUNLOP.

THIS day, Time winds the exhausted chain,
To run the twelvemonth's length again :
I see the old, bald-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
Adjust the unimpaired machine,
To wheel the equal, dull routine.

The absent lover, minor heir,

In vain assail him with their prayer;
Deaf as my friend, he sees them press,
Nor makes the hour one moment less.
Will you (the Major's1 with the hounds;
The happy tenants share his rounds;
Coila's fair Rachel's care to-day,
And blooming Keith's engaged with Gray)
From housewife cares a minute borrow —
That grandchild's cap will do to-morrow —

1 Afterwards General Dunlop of Dunlop.

2 Rachel, a daughter of Mrs. Dunlop, was making a sketch of Coila.

And join with me a moralising,
This day's propitious to be wise in.
First, what did yesternight deliver?
"Another year is gone for ever.”

And what is this day's strong suggestion? "The passing moment's all we rest on!" Rest on - for what? what do we here? Or why regard the passing year?

Will Time, amused with proverbed lore,
Add to our date one minute more?

A few days may

-a few years must Repose us in the silent dust.

Then is it wise to damp our bliss?

Yes

all such reasonings are amiss! The voice of Nature loudly cries, And many a message from the skies, That something in us never dies: That on this frail, uncertain state, Hang matters of eternal weight: That future life in worlds unknown Must take its hue from this alone; Whether as heavenly glory bright, Or dark as Misery's woeful night. Since, then, my honoured, first of friends, On this poor being all depends,

Let us the important now employ,

And live as those who never die.

Though you, with days and honours crowned

Witness that filial, circle round