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LOVELY JEAN.
TUNE_" Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey."
OF a' the airts the wind can blaw,

I dearly like the west,
For there the bonnie lassie lives,

The lass that I loo best:
Tho' wild woods grow, and rivers row,

Wi' monie a hill between,
Baith day and night, my fancy's flight

Is ever wi' my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flow'r,

Sae lovely, sweet, and fair;
I hear her voice in ilka bird,

Wi' music charm the air : There's not a bonnie flow'r that springs,

By fountain, shaw, or green, Nor yet a bonnie bird that sings,

But minds me o' my Jean.
Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde

The lasses busk them braw;
But when their best they hae put on,

My Jeanie dings them a';
In hamely weeds she far exceeds

The fairest o' the town;
Baith
sage

and gay confess it sae, Tho' drest in russet gown. The gamesome lamb, that sucks its dam,

Mair harmless canna be;
She has nae faut, (if sic ye ca't,)

Except her love for me:
The sparkling dew, o'clearest hue,

Is like her shining een;
In shape and air, wha can compare

Wi' my sweet lovely Jean?

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O blaw, ye westlin winds, blaw saft

Amang the leafy trees;
Wi' gentle gale, frae muir and dale,

Bring hame the laden bees,
And bring the lassie back to me

That's ay sae neat and clean;
Ae blink o her wad banish care,

Sae lovely is my Jean.
What sighs and vows, amang the knowes,

Hae past atween us twa !
How fain to meet, how wae to part

That day she gade awa!
The powers aboon can only ken,

To whom the heart is seen,
That nane can be sae dear to me,

As my sweet lovely Jean ! *

I LOO'D NEAR A LADDIE BUT ANE.
TUNE_" My Lodging is on the cold ground.
I loo'd ne'er a laddie but ane,

He loo'd ne'er a lassie but me;
He's willing to mak me his ain,

And his ain I'm willing to be:
He has coft me a rokelay o' blue,

And a pair o' mittens o' green;
The price was a kiss o' my mou',

And I paid him the debt yestreen.

* Burns says he “composed this song out of compliment to Mrs. BURNS;” but he adds the following—“ N. B. It was during the Honey Moon.” It appears, however, that the first two verses only are the production of BURNS. By whom the rest were comnosed is unknown to the Editor of this work.

Let ithers brag weel o' their gear,

Their land, and their lordlie degree; I carena for ought but my dear,

For he's ilka thing lordlie to me: His words are sae sugar'd, sae sweet!

His sense drives ilk fear far awa! I listen +poor fool! and I greet,

Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa'!

Dear lassie, he cries wi' a jeer,

Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say; Though we've little to brag o’-ne'er fear;

What's gowd to a heart that is wae ? Our laird has baith honours and wealth,

Yet see how he's dwining wi' care; Now we, tho' we've naithing but health,

Are cantie and leel evermair,

O Marion ! the heart that is true

Has something mair costly than gear;
Ilk e'en it has naething to rue;

Ilk morn it has naething to fear,
Ye warldlings! gae, hoard up your store,

And tremble for fear ought ye tyne; Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door,

While here in my arms I lock mine!

He ends wi' a kiss and a smile

Waes me! can I tak it amiss! My laddie's unpractis'd in guile,

He's free ay to daut and to kiss ! Ye lassies wha loo to torment

Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife, Play your pranks I hae gien my consent,

And this night I am Jamie's for life.

THE BANKS OF THE DEVON. How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,

With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair ! But the bonniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon,

Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,

In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew; And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,

That steals on the ev’ning each leaf to renew. 0 spare

the dear blossom, ye orient breezes, With chill, hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn! And far be thou distant, thou reptile, that seizes

The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn! Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,

And England, triumphant, display her proud rose; A fairer than either adorns the green vallies,

Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows. *

TULLOCHGORUM.
Come gie's a sang, the lady cried,
And lay your disputes all aside;
What nonsense is't for folks to chide

For what's been done before them.
Let whig and tory all agree,
Whig and tory, whig and tory,
Let whig and tory all agree

To drop their whigmegmorum.

* This is undoubtedly one of Burns's best songs. He has himself given the following account of it. “ These verses were composed on a charming girl, a Miss CHARLOTTE HAMILTON, who is now married to James M.KITRICK ADAIR, Esq. Physi. cian. She is sister to my worthy friend GAVIN HAMILTON, of Mauchline ; and was born on the banks of Ayr, but was, at the time I wrote these lines, residing at Herveyston, in ClackmanAanshire, on the romantic banks of the little river Devon.

Let whig and tory all agree
To spend the night wi' mirth and glee,
And cheerfu' sing alang wi' me

The Reel of Tullochgorum.
Tullochgorum's my delight,
It gars us a' in ane unite,
And onie sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him:
Blithe and merry we's be a',
Blithe and merry, blithe and merry,
Blithe and merry we's be a',

To mak a cheerfu' quorum;
Blithe and merry we's be a',
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance, till we be like to fa',

The Reel of Tullochgorum.
There needs na be sae great a phrase
Wi' bringing dull Italian lays;
I wadna gie our ain strathspeys

For hauf a hunder score o'm. They're dowff and dowie at the best, Dowff and dowie, dowff and dowie, They're dowff and dowie at the best,

Wi' a' their variorum : They're dowff and dowie at the best, Their allegro's, and a' the rest, They canna please a Highland taste,

Compar'd wi’ Tullochgorum. Let warldly minds themselves oppress, Wi' fear o' want, and double cess, And silly sauls themselves distress,

Wi' keeping up decorum. Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Sour and sulky, sour and sulky, Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Like auld Philosophorum ?

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