. O meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty 448 Had I the wyte she bade me There'll never be peace till Jamie comes The bonnie lad that's far awa. It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face. . 548 550 550 . 551 552 My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't. Amang the trees where humming bees 509 561 562 537 Thou hast left me ever, Jamie. morning" THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BURNS. WINTER. A DIEGE. [This is one of the earliest of the poet's recorded compositions: it was written before the death of his father, and is called by Gilbert Burns, ‘a juvenile production. To walk by a river while flooded, or through a wood on a rough winter day, and hear the storm howling among the leafless trees, exalted the poet's thoughts. "In such a season," he said, "just after a train of misfortunes, I composed Winter, a Dirge."] THE wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw; While tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, 1 Dr. Young. The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want (O, do thou grant This one request of mine!) THE DEATH AND DYING WORDS OF POOR MAILIE, THE AUTHOR'S ONLY PET YOWE. AN UNCO MOURNFU' TALE. [This tale is partly true; the poet's pet ewe got entangled in her tether, and tumbled into a ditch; the face of ludicrous and awkward sorrow with which this was related by Hughoc, the herd-boy, amused Burns so much, who was on his way to the plough, that he immediately composed the poem, and repeated it to his brother Gilbert when they met in the evening; the field where the poet held the plough, and the ditch into which poor Mailie fell, are still pointed out.] As Mailie, an' her lambs thegither, He saw her days were near-hand ended, But, waes my heart! he could na mend it! He gaped wide but naething spak- "O thou, whose lamentable face 1 A neibor herd-callan. |