GANE is the day, and mirk's the night; There's wealth and ease for gentlemen, My coggie is a haly pool, That heals the wounds o' care and dool; 'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 'Tis this enchants my soul; For absolutely in my breast She reigns without control. Tal lal de ral, &c. It must be confessed that these lines give no indication of the future genius of Burns; bu he himself seems to have been fond of them, probably from the recollections they excited. HAD I A CAVE HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore, HIGHLAND MARY. Tune-" Katherine Ogie." Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar, YE banks, and braes, and streams around There would I weep my woes, Oh, were some villains hangit hie, Oh, for him back again ! &c. Sad was the day, and sad the hour, Strong was my Harry's arm in war, Unmatch'd in a' Culloden's plain; But vengeance marks him for her ainI'll never see him back again.⚫ Oh, for him back again! &c. The first three verses of this song, excepting the chorus, are by Burns. The air to which it is sung, is the Highlander's Farewell to Ireland, with some alter. ations, sung slowly. The Castle o' Montgomery!" Green be your woods, and fair your flow'rs, Your waters never drumlie! How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birki Wi' monie a vow and lock'd embrace, O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, And closed for aye the sparkling glance, HER FLOWING LOCKS: A FRAGMENT. HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, O, what a feast, her bonnie mou! Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, A crimson still diviner. Coilsfield House, near Mauchline; but poetically titled as above, on account of the name of the pro prietor. HERE'S, A BOTTLE AND AN HONEST, Thou art sweet as the smile when kind lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear, Jessie! Although thou maun never be mine- Than aught in the world beside, Jessie! I mourn through the gay gaudy day, I guess by the love-rolling ee; 'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree, Jessie!" HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS ALTERED FROM AN OLD ENGLISH SONG. How cruel are the parents Has but a choice of strife; The ravening hawk pursuing, The trembling dove thus flies, To shun impelling ruin A while her pinions tries; 'Till of escape despairing, No shelter or retreat, She trusts the ruthless falconer, And drops beneath his feet. HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT. Tune-" Cauld Kail in Aberdeen How lang and dreary is the night, When I am frae my dearie: I restless lie frae e'en to morn, For, oh, her lanely nights are lang, And, oh, her dreams are eerie, And, oh, her widow'd heart is sair, That's absent frae her dearie. Written upon Miss Lewars, now Mrs. Thomson, of Dumfries; a true friend and a great favourite of the poet, and, at his death, one of the most ɛympathizing friends of his afflicted widow. |