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Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e,
Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,
The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Rest, ġe wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Wauken ye breezes, row gently ye billows,
And waft

my

dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nanie,
Flow still between us thoù wide-roaring main !
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.

Several of the alterations seem to be of little importance in themselves, and were adopted, it may be presumed, for the sake of suiting the words better to the music. The Homeric epithet for the sea, dark-heaving, suggested by Mr. Erskine, is in itself more beautiful, as well perhaps as more sublime than wide-roaring, which he has retained; but as it is only applicable to a placid state of the sea, or at most to the swell left on its surface after the storm is over, it gives a picture of that element not so well adapted to the ideas of eternal separation, which the fair mourner is supposed to imprecate. From the original song of Here awa Willie, Burns has borrowed nothing but the second line and part of the first. The superior excellence of this beautiful poem will, it is hoped, justify the different editions of it which we have given.

E.

No.

No. XVIII.

MR. BURNS to MR. THOMSON.

When wild war's deadly blast was blawn.

Aire" THE MILL MILL 0."

When wild war's deadly blast was blawa,

And gentle peace returning, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,

And mony a widow mourning :*

I left the lines and tented field,

Where lang I'd been a lodger, My humble knapsack a' my wealth,

A poor and honest sodger.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,

My hand unstain’d wi' plunder:
And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I cheery on did wander,
E 2

I thought

* Variation, lines 3d and 4th:

And eyes again with pleasure beam'd,
That had been blear’d with mourning.

See No. XXIV,

thought upon the banks o' Coil,

I thought upon my Nancy,
I thought upon the witching smile

That caught my youthful fancy.

At length I reach'd the bonny glen,

Where early life I sported;
I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,

Where Nancy aft I courted:
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,

Down by her mother's dwelling ! And turn'd me round to hide the flood

That in my een was swelling.

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, 0! happy, happy may he be,

That's dearest to thy bosom!
My purse is light, I've far to gang,

And fain would be thy lodger ;
I've serv'd my king and country lang,

Take pity on a sodger.

Sae wistfully she gaz’d on me,

And lovelier was than ever ; Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'ed,

Forget him shall I never:

Our

1

Our humble cot, and hamely fare,

Ye freely shall partake it, i
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't.

She gaz'd—she redden'd like a rose

Syne pale like ony lily;
She sank within my arms and cried,

Art thou my ain dear Willie?
By him who made yon sun and sky“

By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man; and thus

may

still True lovers be rewarded.

The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,

And find thee still true-hearted !
Tho'
poor

in
gear,

we're rich in love, And mair we’se ne'er be parted. Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly!

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor ; But glory is the sodger's prize,

The sodger's wealth is honor;

The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,

Nor count him as a stranger, Remember he's his country's stay

In day and hour of danger.

MEG O' THE MILL.

Air"O BONNIE LASS WILL YOU LIE IN A BARRACK."

O ken

ye

what Meg o' the Mill has gotten, An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten! She has gotten a coof wi' a claute o'siller, And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.

The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy;
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady:
The laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl;
She's left the guid-fellow and ta’en the churl.

The Miller he hecht her, a heart leal and loving:
The Laird did address her wi' matter mair moving,
A fine pacing-horse wi' a clear chained bridle,
A whip by her side, and a bonnie side-saddle.

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