And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

Let others love the city,

And gaudy show at sunny noon;
Gie me the lonely valley,

The dewy eve, and rising moon;

Fair beaming, and streaming,

Her silver light the boughs amang;

While falling, recalling,

The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'es me best of a'?

SAW YE MY PHELY.

[QUASI DICAT PHILLIS.]

Tune-"When she cam ben she bobbit."

[The despairing swain in this song was Stephen Clarke, musician, and the young lady whom he persuaded Burns to accuse of inconstancy and coldness was Phillis M'Murdo.]

O SAW ye my dear, my Phely?

O saw ye my dear, my Phely?

She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new love!

She winna come hame to her Willy.

What says she, my dearest, my Phely?

What says she, my dearest, my Phely?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her Willy.

O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Phely!
As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy Willy.

HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT.

Tune-" Cauld Kail in Aberdeen."

[On comparing this lyric, corrected for Thomson, with that in the Museum, it will be seen that the former has more of elegance and order: the latter quite as much nature and truth but there is less of the new than of the old in both.]

How lang and dreary is the night,

When I am frae my dearie;

I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Though I were ne'er sae weary.
For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
And oh her dreams are eerie;
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie.

When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi' thee, my dearie;
And now what seas between us roar-
How can I be but eerie?

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;

The joyless day how dreary!

It was na sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi' my dearie.

For oh! her lanely nights are lang;
And oh, her dreams are eerie;
And oh, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie.

LET NOT WOMAN E'ER COMPLAIN.

Tune-" Duncan Gray.”

"These English songs," thus complains the poet, in the letter which conveyed this lyris to Thomson, "gravel me to death: I have not that command of the language that I have of my native tongue. I have been at Duncan Gray,' to dress it in English, but all 1 can do is deplorably stupid. For instance:"]

LET not woman e'er complain

Of inconstancy in love;

Let not woman e'er complain

Fickle man is apt to rove:

!

Look abroad through nature's range,
Nature's mighty law is change;
Ladies, would it not be strange,

Man should then a monster prove?

Mark the winds, and mark the skies;
Ocean's ebb, and ocean's flow:
Sun and moon but set to rise,

Round and round the seasons go:

Why then ask of silly man

To oppose great nature's plan?
We'll be constant while we can-

You can be no more, you know.

THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS

Tune-"Deil tak the wars."

[Burns has, in one of his letters, partly intimated that this morning salutation to Chloris was occasioned by sitting till the dawn at the punch-bowl, and walking past her window on his way home.]

SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature?

Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,

Numbering ilka bud which nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy:

Now through the leafy woods,

And by the reeking floods,

Wild nature's tenants freely, gladly stray;

The lintwhite in his bower

Chants o'er the breathing flower;

The lav'rock to the sky

Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,

While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.

Phoebus gilding the brow o' morning,

Banishes ilk darksome shade,

Nature gladdening and adorning;

Such to me my lovely maid.
When absent frae my fair,
The murky shades o' care

With starless gloom o'ercast my sullen sky;
But when, in beauty's light,

She meets my ravish'd sight,
When thro' my very heart

Her beaming glories dart-
'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.

CHLORIS.

Air-"My lodging is on the cold ground."

[The origin of this song is thus told by Burns to Thomson. "On my visit the other day to my fair Chloris, that is the poetic name of the lovely goddess of my inspiration, she suggested an idea which I, on my return from the visit, wrought into the following song." The poetic elevation of Chloris is great: she lived, when her charms faded, in want, and died all but destitute."]

My Chloris, mark how green the groves,

The primrose banks how fair:

The balmy gales awake the flowers,

And wave thy flaxen hair.

The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings;
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.

Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string

In lordly lighted ha':

The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe, in the birken shaw.

The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn?

The shepherd, in the flow'ry glen,
In shepherd's phrase will woo:

The courtier tells a finer tale-
But is his heart as true?

These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:

The courtier's gems may witness love—
But 'tis na love like mine.

CHLOE.

Air-"Daintie Davie."

[Burns, despairing to fit some of the airs with such verses of original manufacture as Thomson required, for the English part of his collection, took the liberty of bestowing a Southron dress on some genuine Caledonian lyrics. The origin of this song may be found in Ramsay's miscellany: the bombast is abated, and the whole much improved.]

It was the charming month of May,

When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay,

One morning, by the break of day,

The youthful charming Chloe
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flowery mead she goes,
The youthful charming Chloe.
Lovely was she by the dawn,

Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
The youthful charming Chloe.

The feather'd people you might see,
Perch'd all around, on every tree,
In notes of sweetest melody

They hail the charming Chloe;
Till painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Out-rivall'd by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.

Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,

The youthful, charming Chloe.