HE.

The bee that thro' the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the opening flower,
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,
Upon the lips o' Philly.

SHE.

The woodbine in the dewy weet

When evening shades in silence meet,

Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
As is a kiss o' Willy.

HE.

Let Fortune's wheel at random rin,

And fools may tyne, and knaves may win;
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,

And that's my ain dear Philly.

SHE.

What's a' joys that gowd can gie?
I care nae wealth a single flie;
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's my own dear Willy.

CONTENTED WI' LITTLE.

Tune-" Lumps o' Pudding.”

[Burns was an admirer of many songs which the more critical and fastidious regarded as rude and homely. "Todlin Hame" he called an unequalled composition for wit and humour, and "Andro wi' his cutty Gun," the work of a master. In the same letter, where he records these sentiments, he writes his own inimitable song, "Contented wi Little."]

CONTENTED wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care,

I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,

Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang.

I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought;

But man is a sodger, and life is a faught:

My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And
my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch.

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blithe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?

Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way;
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae:
Come ease, or come travail; come pleasure or pain;
My warst word is-" Welcome, and welcome again!"

CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS.

Tune-" Roy's Wife."

[When Burns transcribed the following song for Thomson, on the 20th of November. 1794, he added, "Well! I think this, to be done in two or three turns across my room, and with two or three pinches of Irish blackguard, is not so far amiss. You see I am resolved to have my quantum of applause from somebody." The poet in this song complains of the coldness of Mrs. Riddel: the lady replied in a strain equally tender and forgiving.]

CANST thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Well thou know'st my aching heart-
And canst thou leave me thus for pity?
Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katy?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward—
An aching, broken heart, my Katy!

Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear

That fickle heart of thine, my Katy!
Thou may'st find those will love thee dear-
But not a love like mine, my Katy!

Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Well thou know'st my aching heart—
And canst thou leave me thus for pity?

MY NANNIE'S AWA.

Tune-" There'll never be peace."

[Clarinda, tradition avers, was the inspirer of this song, which the poet composed in December, 1794, for the work of Thomson. His thoughts were often in Edinburgh: on festive occasions, when, as Campbell beautifully says, "The wine-cup shines in light," he seldom forgot to toast Mrs. Mac.]

Now in her green mantle blythe nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
But to me it's delightless-my Nannie's awa!

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
They mind me o' Nannie-and Nanny's awa!

Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn o' the gray-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night fa',
Give over for pity-my Nannie's awa!

Come autumn sae pensive, in yellow and gray,
And soothe me with tidings o' nature's decay;
The dark dreary winter, and wild driving snaw,
Alane can delight me-now Nannie's awa!

O WHA IS SHE THAT LOVES ME.

Tune-"Morag."

["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is said, in Thomson's collection, to have been writ ten for that work by Burns: but it is not included in Mr. Cunningham's edition." If Sir Harris would be so good as to look at page 245, vol. V., of Cunningham's edition of Burns, he will find the song: and if he will look at page 28, and page 193 of vol. III. of his own edition, he will find that he has not committed the error of which he accuses his felloweditor, for he has inserted the same song twice. The same may be said of the song to Chloris, which Sir Harris has printed at page 312, vol. II., and at page 189, vol. III., and of Ae day a braw woer came down the lang glen," which appears both at page 224 of nd at page 183 of vol. III.]

O WHA is she that lo'es me,

And has my heart a-keeping?