How mony lengthen 'd', sage advices, The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale:-Ae market night, Tam had got planted unco right, Fast by an ingle, bleezin finely, Wi' reamin swats1 that drank divinely; And at his elbow, Souter2 Johnie, His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony: Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither; They had been fou for weeks thegither. The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter; And ay the ale was growing better: The landlady and Tam grew gracious, Wi' secret favours, sweet and precious: The souter tauld his queerest stories; The landlord's laugh was ready chorus; The storm without might rair and rustle, Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E'en drown'd himsel amang the nappy:
As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,
The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure;
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow 'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white-then melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,

That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.-

Nae man can tether time or tide:
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;

35 Lest bogles catch him unawares. Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, Where ghaists and houlets1 nightly cry.

By this time he was cross the ford, Whare in the snaw the chapman smoor 'd;2 40 And past the birks3 and meikle stane, Whare drucken Charlie brak's neck-bane; And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn; And near the thorn, aboon the well, 45 Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. Before him Doon pours all his floods; The doubling storm roars thro' the woods, The lightnings flash from pole to pole, Near and more near the thunders roll;

50 When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze,7

Thro' ilka bores the beams were glancing,
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

90

95

100

A winnock-bunker15 in the east,

110

115

70

There sat Auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 120 A towzie tyke,16 black, grim, and large,

To gie them music was his charge;

A murderer's banes in gibbet-airns;

Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns; A thief, new-cutted frae the rape,20

1 owls

2 smothered

3 birches

4 great

5 furze

85

6 heap of stones

7 blaze

8 chink

9 two-penny ale

10 whiskey

11 a small coin

12 strange

13 bright (new)

14 All Scottish dances.

15 window-seat

16 shaggy cur

17 made them shriek

18 rattle

19 magic

20 rope

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick 'ning green; The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar

'Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene:
The flow'rs sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
Till too, too soon the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of wingèd day.

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but th' impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear 'st thou the groans
breast?

24

that rend his

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS

32

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the

North,

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;

My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;

A-chasing the wild deer, and following the

roe,

My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

Farewell to the mountains, high-cover'd with snow;

Farewell to the straths1 and green valleys below;

Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods, Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;

My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;

A-chasing the wild deer, and following the

roe,

My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

THE BANKS O' DOON

Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care?

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings upon the bough;

Thou minds me o' the happy days,

When my fause luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird,
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o' my fate.

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon
To see the woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw2 my rose
But left the thorn wi' me.

AFTON WATER

16

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Mary Campbell, who died in 1786; Burns's "Highland Mary."

braes,3

Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But O, fell death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!

And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mould 'ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

24

32

8

24

Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or Freeman fa',

16

HIGHLAND MARY

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

Let him follow me!

By oppression's woes and pains!