"Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;

'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland.

A BOTTLE AND A FRIEND.
First published in the "Reliques."

HERE's a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Wha kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be of care, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly,
And use them as ye ought, man:
Believe me, happiness is shy,

And comes not ay when sought, man.

WILLIE BREWED A PECK O' MAUT.

These verses were composed to celebrate a visit which the Poet and Allan Masterton made to William Nichol, of the High-school, Edinburgh, who hap pened to be at Moffat during the autumn vacation. The air is by Masterton,

1

O WILLIE brew'd a peck o' maut,1

And Rob and Allan cam to see;

Three blyther hearts that lee-lang night,
Ye wad na find in Christendie.3

We are na fou, we're nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
But ay we'll taste the barley-bree.®

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And monie a night we've merry been,
And monie mae we hope to be!
We are na fou, &c.

Malt.-2 Live-long.-3 Christendom.-4 Drunk.-5 Dawn.-6 Juice.

It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkin' in the lift' sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle2 us hame;
But by my sooth she 'll wait a wee!
We are na fou, &c.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha last beside his chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three!
We are na fou, &c.

GUDEWIFE, COUNT THE LAWIN.

The following is one of the verses of the old Bacchanalian ditty which suggested this song to Burns:

"O, ilka day my wife tells me, that yill and brandy will ruin me,

But tho' gude drink should be my dead, I' se hae this written on my head-

'O gudewife, count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin,

O gudewife, count the lawin, an' bring a coggie mair.'"

GANE is the day, and mirk 's' the night,
But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light,
For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
And blude-red wine's the rising sun.

Then, gudewife, count the lawin,
The lawin, the lawin,

Then, gudewife, count the lawin,
And bring a coggie® mair.

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And semple folk maun fecht' and fen';
But here we 're a' in ae accord,
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.
Then, gudewife, &c.

My coggie is a haly pool,

10

That heals the wounds of care and dool;1o

And pleasure is a wanton trout,

An' ye drink it a' ye'll find him out.
Then, gudewife, &c.

1 The sky.-2 Beguile.-3 Dark.-4 The landlady, or mistress of the house. The bill, or reckoning.- A cup.-7 Fight and struggle.-8 Every.Holy.-10 Sorrow.

I'M OWRE YOUNG TO MARRY YET.
Of this song the chorus and second stanza are old.

I AM my mammie's ae bairn,1
Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir;
And lying in a man's bed,

I'm fley'd' wad mak me eerie, Sir.
I'm owre young, I'm owre young,
I'm owre young to marry yet;
I'm owre young, 'twad be a sin

To tak me frae my mammie yet.
My mammie coft3 me a new gown,
The kirk maun hae the gracing o't;
Were I to lie wi' you, kind Sir,
I'm fear'd ye'd spoil the lacing o't.
I'm owre young, &c.

Hallowmas is come and gane,

The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
And you an' I in ae bed,

In troth I dare na venture, Sir.
I'm owre young, &c.

Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind
Blaws thro' the leafless timmer,* Sir;

But if ye come this gate again,

6

I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.
I'm owre young, &c.

THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.

The scenery of this song was taken from real life. Burns had roved out as chance directed, in the favorite haunts of his Muse, on the banks of the Ayr, to view nature in all the gayety of the vernal year. In a corner of his prospect he spied one of the loveliest creatures that ever crowned a poetical landscape, or met a poet's eye. On his return home he composed the following verses in honor of her charms.

TUNE-Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff.

'Twas even-the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang;
The zephyr wanton'd round the bean
And bore its fragrant sweets alang:

1 Only child.-2 Afraid.-3 Bought.-4 Timber, trees.-5 Way.-6 I'll be older against summer.

In every glen the mavis sang,

All nature listening seem'd the while, Except where green-wood echoes rang, Amang the the braes o' Ballochmyle. With careless step I onward stray'd, My heart rejoiced in nature's joy, When musing in a lonely glade,

A maiden fair I chanced to spy;
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like nature's vernal smile;
Perfection whisper'd, passing by,
Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!
Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wandering in a lonely wild:
But woman, nature's darling child!
There all her charms she does compile;
Even there her other works are foil'd
By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

Oh, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed

That ever rose in Scotland's plain! ..
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain
With joy, with rapture, I would toil;
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honors lofty shine;
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward seek the Indian mine:
Give me the cot below the pine,

To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And every day have joys divine,
With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE.

This song was written on the occasion of Sir John Whitefoord leaving Ballochmyle. The Maria mentioned in the first stanza was the eldest daughter of that gentleman.

TUNE-Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banf.

THE Catrine woods were yellow seen,
The flowers decay'd on Catrine lee,
Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,
But nature sicken'd on the ee.
Thro' faded groves Maria sang,

Hersel in beauty's bloom the while,
And ay the wild-wood echoes rang,
Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle!
Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
Again ye 'll flourish fresh and fair:
Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers.
Again ye 'll charm the vocal air:
But here, alas! for me nae mair

Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;
Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,

Fareweel, fareweel, sweet Ballochmyle!

BONNIE LESLIE.

This song was composed on a charming Ayrshire girl, as she passed through Dumfries to England.

TUNE-The collier's bonnie dochter.'

OH saw ye bonnie Leslie

As she gaed o'er the border?
She's gane, like Alexander,

To spread her conquests farther.

To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And ne'er made sic anither.

Thou art a queen, fair Leslie,
Thy subjects we, before thee:
Thou art divine, fair Leslie,

The hearts o' men adore thee.