But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be, OH WERE MY LOVE YON LILAC FAIR. The two last stanzas of this song are old. Burns prefixed the two first. Он were my love yon lilac fair, When wearied on my little wing: When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd. Oh gin' my love were yon red rose, Into her bonnie breast to fa'; THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. The chorus of the old song, to the air of which this beautiful lyric is written is curious: "This is nae my ain house, I ken by the biggin o't Bread an' cheese are the door cheeks, TUNE-This is no my ain house. Oh this is no my ain1 lassie, 1 Beguile.-2 If.-3 Scared-4 Own. I SEE a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi' the fairest place: She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, The kind love that's in her ee. A thief sae pawkie' is my Jean, It may escape the courtly sparks, THE DUMFRIES VOLUNTEERS. Burns was a member of this corps. He composed the following verses to stimulate their patriotism. For though he deplored the corruptions in the administration of government at home, he was unwilling to exchange even them for foreign domination. TUNE-Push about the jorum. DOES haughty Gaul invasion threat? 1 Cunning.-2 Quick.-3 Fellows, ragamuffins.—4 A high hill at the source of the Nith.-5 A high mountain at the mouth of the same river. Oh, let us not, like snarling tykes,' For never but by British hands The kettle o' the kirk and state, The wretch that wad a tyrant own, Who will not sing "God save the king,” THE UNION. At a meeting of a select party of gentlemen to celebrate the birth-day of the lineal descendant of the Scottish race of kings, the late unfortunate Prince Charles Stuart, Burns produced and sung the following song. TUNE-Such a parcel of rogues in a nation. FAREWEEL to a' our Scottish fame, Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands, To mark where England's province stands; 1 1 Dogs.-2 Strange fellow, a foreigner.-3 Cudgel. What force or guile could not subdue, But English gold has been our bane: Oh would or I had seen the day That treason thus could sell us, We're bought and sold for English gold: THE WINDING NITH. The Gaelic air to which this song is adapted is said to have been composed by Roderic Dall, an itinerant musician, formerly well known in the Highlands of Perthshire. He died about 1780, at a very advanced age. TUNE-Robie Donna Gorach. THE Thames flows proudly to the sea, Where Cummins ance had high command; When shall I see that honor'd land, That winding stream I love so dear? How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales, Where spreading hawthorns gayly bloom! How sweetly wind thy sloping dales, Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom! MY HEART IS SAIR. Two additional verses were written for this song by the late Mr. R. A. Smith, which are now printed along with it in most collections. The new verses are not unworthy to accompany the old. TUNE-The Highland Watch's farewell. My heart is sair, I dare na tell, I could range the world around, Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love, Oh-hey! for somebody! I wad do-what wad I not? DELIA.-AN ODE. This ode was sent to the publisher of the London Star-in which paper it first appeared, with the following letter: "MR. PRINTER,-If the productions of a simple ploughman can merit a place in the same paper with Sylvester Otway,1 and the other favorites of the Muses, who illuminate the Star with the lustre of genius, your insertion of the inclosed trifle will be succeeded by future communications from R. BURNS. "Yours, &c., "ELLISLAND, near Dumfries, May 18, 1789." FAIR the face of orient day, More lovely far her beauty blows. The assumed name of a Mr. Oswald, an officer in the army, who fre quently contributed verses to the Star newspaper. |