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THE DAYS O' LANGSYNE.
Whan war had broke in on the peace o' auld men,
O'ER THE MUIR AMANG THE HEATHER.
Amang the bonnie blooming heather,
There I met a bonnie lassie,
O'er the muir amang the heather,
Keeping a' her ewes thegither.
in muir, or dale, pray tell me whither?
Oer the muir, &c.
Sae warm and sunnie was the weather,
O'er the muir, &e.
Till echo ran a mile and farther,
O’er the muir, &c.
I cou'dna think on onie ither:
O'er the muir, fc.
* We are probably indebted to Burns for this Song, though he was not the author of it. He tells us “ it is the composition of a Jean GLOVER,—a girl who was not only a prostitute, but also a thief, and who, in one or other character, has visited most of the Correction Houses in the West. She was born, I believe, in Kil. marnock. I took the song down from her singing, as she was strolling through the country with a slight-of-hand blackguard."
COME UNDER MY PLAIDIE.
TUNE_" Johnnie Macgill.” Come under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa'; Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift and the snaw; Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me; There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa. Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, I'll hap ye frae ev'ry cauld blast that can blaw; Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me, There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa. Gae ’wa wi' your plaidie! auld Donald, gae 'wa, I fear na the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw; Gae 'wa wi’ your plaidie! I'll no sit beside ye; Ye might be my gutcher:-auld Donald, gae 'wa, I'm gaun to meet Johnnie, he's young and he's bonnie; He's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trig and fu' braw! O nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly, His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw!
Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa',
She crap in ayont him, beside the stane wa',
auld Nick if he'd keep them ay braw.
Till they meet wi' some Johnnie that's youthfu' and
bonnie, And they'll gie ye a horn on ilk haffet to claw.
THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.
TUNE—" Captain OʻKean.” The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet runs clear thro' the vale; The primroses blow in the dews of the morning,
And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale. But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
When the lingering moments are number'd by care? No birds sweetly singing, nor flow'rs gaily springing,
Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair.
A king and a father to place on his throne !
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none. But 'tis not my sufforings, thus wretched, forlorn,
My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mourn; Your faith prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial,
Alas! can I make it no better return? *
TUNE" Humours of Glen."
As wanʼrin' adown by the burnie sae clear,
But Nancy, sweet Nancy, my ain only dear!
An'a' things look'd dowie but Nancy's fair face, An', blushin', she looked as the new ris'n moon does
Whan first she peeps out o' the watery space!
• BURNS does not seem to have intended this for a Jacobitical song when he began to compose it. In a letter to one of his friends, inclosing only the first verse, he says“ Yesterday, my dear Sir, as I was riding through a track of melancholy, joyless moors, between Galloway and Ayrshire, it being Sunday, I turned
my thoughts to Psalms, and Hymns, and Spiritual Songs, and your favourite air, Captain O’Kean, coming at length in my head, I tried these words to it. I am tolerably pleased with the verses ; but as I have only a sketch of the tune, I leave it with you to try if they suit the measure of the music.” The Gentleman, in reply, declared himself highly delighted with the words, and the manner in which they fitted the tune; but, at the same time, he expressed a wish to have a verse or two more added in the Jacobite style, and that they should be supposed to be “ sung after the fatal field of Culloden by the unfortunate Charles." This advice the Poet implicitly followed.