Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes,
He swept the stakes awa', man,
Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race,
Led him a sair faux pas, man:
The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads,'
On Chatham's boy did ca', man:
An' Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew,
“Up, Willie, waur2 them a', man!"
Behind the throne then Grenville's gone,
A secret word or twa, man;
While slee Dundas aroused the class
Be-north the Roman wa', man:

An' Chatham's wraith, in heavenly graith,"
(Inspired bardies saw, man,)

Wi' kindling eyes cried, "Willie, rise!
Would I hae fear'd them a', man?"

But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co.
Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man,

Till Suthron raise, and coost their claise®
Behind him in a raw, man;

An' Caledon threw by the drone,

And did her whittle' draw, man;
And swoors fu' rude, thro' dirt an' blood,
To mak it guid in law, man.

NOW WESTLIN' WINDS, ETC.

This is an early production. It was published in the Kilmarnock edition.
TUNE-I had a horse, I had nae mair.

Now westlin' winds, and slaughtering guns
Bring Autumn's pleasant weather;

The moorcock springs, on whirring wings,

Amang the blooming heather:

Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
Delights the weary farmer;

And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night,
To muse upon my charmer.

1 Proclamation.-2 To worst; to defeat.-3 Dress, accoutrements. Struck.-5 An old name for the English nation.-6 Cast their clothes.→ Knife, or sword.-8 Swore.

The partridge loves the fruitful fells;'
The plover loves the mountains;
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
The soaring hern the fountains:
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves,
The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
The spreading thorn the linnet.

Thus every kind their pleasure find,
The savage and the tender;
Some social join, and leagues combine;
Some solitary wander:

Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,

Tyrannic man's dominion;

The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry,
The fluttering, gory pinion!

But Peggy dear, the evening's clear,
Thick flies the skimming swallow:
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
All fading green and yellow:
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms of nature!
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And every happy creature.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
Till the silent moon shine clearly;
I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
Swear how I love thee dearly:
Not vernal showers to budding flowers,
Not autumn to the farmer,
So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely charmer!

TO MARY.

"In my carly years, when I was thinking of going to the West Indies, I took this fareweel of a dear girl."-Burns to Thomson.

TUNE-Ewe-bughts, Marion.

WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auld Scotia's shore?

1 A field pretty level on the side or top of a hill.-2 The dove, or wood-pigeon.

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across th' Atlantic's roar?

Oh sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;
But a' the charms o' the Indies,
Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn by the heavens to be true;
And sae may the heavens forget me,
When I forget my vow!

Oh plight me your faith, my Mary,
And plight me your lily-white hand;
Oh plight me your faith, my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia's strand.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join,

And curst be the cause that shall part us!
The hour and the moment o' time!

66

"These lines," says Burns, are extempore. I might have tried something more profound, yet it might not have suited the light-horse gallop of the air so well as this random clink."

SHE is a winsome1 wee2 thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

I never saw a fairer,

I never lo'ed a dearer,

And neist my heart I'll wear her,

For fear my jewel tine.*

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife of mine.

1 Gay.-2 Little.-3 Nearest.-4 Be lost.

The warld's wrack,' we share o't,
The warstle and the care o't,
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,
And think my lot divine.

GALLA WATER.

Written for Thomson's collection. The air, and several of the lines,
are from an old song of the same name.

THERE's braw, braw lads on Yarrow Braes,
That wander thro' the blooming heather;
But Yarrow Braes, nor Ettrick shaws,
Can match the lads o' Galla Water.

But there is ane, a secret ane,

Aboon them a' I lo'e him better;
And I'll be his, and he 'll be mine,
The bonnie lad o' Galla Water.

Although his daddie was nae laird,

And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher;3
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,

We'll tent' our flocks by Galla Water.

It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,

Oh that's the chiefest warld's treasure!

YOUNG JESSIE.

The following song, though excellent, and set to one of the best and sweetest Scottish melodies, has never become popular. The good old ditty, "Oh whar gat ye that bonnie blue bonnet," is still sung, and still a favorite.

TUNE-Bonnie Dundee.

TRUE-HEARTED Was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair:

1 Vexation.-2 Wrestling.-3 Not much wealth.-4 Tend.-5 Bought

To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;
To equal young Jessie, you seek it in vain;
Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.
Oh fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;
Enthroned in her een he delivers his law;
And still to her charms she alone is a stranger!
Her modest demeanor's the jewel of a'.

PHILLIS THE FAIR.

Speaking of this song to Thomson, Burns says, "I have tried my hand on Robin Adair,' and you will probably think with little success; but it is such a cursed, cramp, out-of-the-way measure, that I despair of doing any thing better to it."

TUNE-Robin Adair.

WHILE larks with little wing
Fann'd the pure air,

Tasting the breathing spring,

Forth I did fare:

Gay the sun's golden eye

Peep'd o'er the mountains high!

Such thy morn! did I cry,

Phillis the fair.

In each bird's careless song,
Glad did I share;

While yon wild-flowers among,
Chance led me there:
Sweet to the opening day,

Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;.
Such thy bloom! did I say,
Phillis the fair.

Down in a shady walk,

Doves cooing were,

I mark'd the cruel hawk

Caught in a snare: