But ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!
Yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
To hope may be forgiv'n;
For sure 'twere impious to despair,
So much in sight of Heav'n.

CASSILLIS' BANKS.

Tune-[unknown.]

[It is supposed that "Highland Mary," who lived sometimes on Cassillis's banks, is the heroine of these verses.]

Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green,

An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring;

By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream,

The birdies flit on wanton wing.
To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's,.
There wi' my Mary let me flee,
There catch her ilka glance of love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!

The chield wha boasts o' warld's walth
Is aften laird o' meikle care;

But Mary she is a' my ain

Ah! fortune canna gie me mair.
Then let me range by Cassillis' banks,
Wi' her, the lassie dear to me,
And catch her ilka glance o' love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!

TO THEE, LOVED NITH.

Tune-[unknown.]

[There are several variations extant of these verses, and among others one which trans fers the praise from the Nith to the Dee: but to the Dee, if the poet spoke in his own person, no such influences could belong.]

To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains,

Where late wi' careless thought I rang'd,

Though prest wi' care and sunk in woe,
To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.

I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,
Tho' mem'ry there my bosom tear;
For there he rov'd that brake my heart,
Yet to that heart, ah! still how dear!

BANNOCKS O' BARLEY.

Tune-"The Killogie."

["This song is in the Museum" says Sir Harris Nicolas, " but without Burns's name. Burns took up an old song, and letting some of the old words stand, infused a Jacobite spirit into it, wrote it out, and sent it to the Museum.]

BANNOCKS o' bear meal,

Bannocks o' barley;
Here's to the Highlandman's

Bannocks o' barley.

Wha in a brulzie

Will first cry a parley?

Never the lads wi'

The bannocks o' barley.

Bannocks o' bear meal,

Bannocks o' barley;
Here's to the lads wi'

The bannocks o' barley.

Wha in his wae-days

Were loyal to Charlie?

Wha but the lads wi'

The bannocks o' barley?

82

HEE BALOU

Tune-"The Highland Balou

["Published in the Musical Museum," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "but without the name of the author." It is an old strain, eked out and amended by Burns, and sent to the Museum in his own handwriting.]

HEE balou! my sweet wee Donald,
Picture o' the great Clanrouald;
Brawlie kens our wanton chief
Wha got my young Highland thief.

Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie,
An' thou live, thou'll steal a naigie:
Travel the country thro' and thro'
And bring hame a Carlisle cow.

Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the border,
Weel, my babie, may thou furder:
Herry the louns o' the laigh countree,
Syne to the Highlands hame to me.

WAE IS MY HEART.

Tune-"Wae is my heart."

[Composed, it is said, at the request of Clarke, the musician, who felt, or imagined he felt, some pangs of heart for one of the loveliest young ladies in Nithsdale, Phillis M'Murdo.]

WAE is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;

Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me;

Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,

And the sweet voice of pity ne'er sounds in my ear.

Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved;
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings will soon be at rest.

O, if I were where happy I hae been,

yon

Down by yon stream, and bonnie castle green;
For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis's e'e.

HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER.

Tune-"The Job of Journey-work."

[Burus took the hint of this song from an older and less decorous strain, and wrote these words, it has been said in humorous allusion to the condition in which Jean Armour found herself before marriage; as if Burns could be capable of anything so insulting. The words are in the Museum.]

[Composed in honour of Miss Margaret Chalmers, afterwards Mrs. Lewis Hay, one of the wisest, and, it is said, the wittiest of all the poet's lady correspondents. Burns, in the note in which he communicated it to Johnson, said he had a strong private reason for wishing it to appear in the second volume of the Museum.]

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form,
The frost of hermit age might warm;
My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind,
Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy's angel air,
Her face so truly, heav'nly fair,
Her native grace so void of art,
But I adore my Peggy's heart.

The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye;

Who but owns their magic sway!
Who but knows they all decay!
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The gen'rous purpose, nobly dear,
The gentle look, that rage disarms-
These are all immortal charms.

GLOOMY DECEMBER.

Tune-"Wandering Willie."

[These verses were, it is said, inspired by Clarinda, and must be taken as a record of his feelings at parting with one dear to him to the latest moments of existence-the Mrs. Mac of many a toast, both in serious and festive hours.]

ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care:
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.
Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!

Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure.

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,

"Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Since my last hope and last comfort is gone'
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

MY LADY'S GOWN, THERE'S GAIRS UPON'T.

Tune-" Gregg's Pipes."

[Most of this song is from the pen of Burns: he corrected the improprieties, and infused some of his own lyric genius into the old strain, and printed the result in the Museum.]

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,

And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;