LINES ON A PLOUGHMAN. As I was a wand'ring ae morning in spring, There's nae life like the Ploughman in the month o sweet May.— The lav'rock in the morning she 'll rise frac her nest, And mount to the air wi' the dew on her breast,* And wi' the merry Ploughman she 'll whistle and sing, And at night she 'll return to her nest back again. I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN. I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden green, again; I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And see my bonie Jean again. There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess, And stownlin'st we sall meet again. *It is pleasing to mark those touches of sympathy which shew the sons of genius to be of one kindred. In the following passage from the poem of his countryman, the same figure is illustrated with characteristic simplicity; and never were the tender and the sublime of poetry more happily united, nor a more affectionate tribute paid to the memory of Burns. “Thou, simple bird, "Of all the vocal quire, dwell'st in a home Grahame's Birds of Scotland, vol. ii, p. iv Stownlins-By stealth. † Burns. She 'll wander by the aiken tree, O haith, she's doubly dear again! WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T. First when Maggy was my care, Meg was meek, and Meg was mild, Whistle o'er the lave o't. How we live, my Meg and me, Whistle o'er the lave o't.com. YOUNG JOCKEY. Young Jockey was the blythest lad Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud,* * Trystin-time-The time of appointment. He roos'd my e'en sae bonie blue, My Jockey toils upon the plain, Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw; And o'er the lee I leuk fu' fain When Jockey's owsen hameward ca'. MCPHERSON'S FAREWEL. Farewel ye dungeons dark and strong, McPherson's time will not be long, Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he; He play'd a spring and danc'd it round, Oh, what is death but parting breath?— I've dar'd his face, and in this place Sae rantingly, Te. Untie these bands from off my hands,* And there's no a man in all Scotland, Sae rantingly, &c. * See the 2d verse of the ballad of Hughie Graham, p. 180. I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife; It burns my heart I must depart Sae rantingly, &c. Now farewel light, thou sunshine bright, May coward shame distain his name, SONG. Here 's, a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end, What his share may be of care, man. Then catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, man:Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not ay when sought, man. SONG. Tune-Braes o' Balquhidder. I kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again, An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonie Peggy Alison! Ilk care and fear, when thou art near, I'll kiss thee, Sc. When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,. And by thy e'en sae bonie blue, I'll kiss thee, c SONG.* Tune-If he be a Butcher neat and trim. On Cessnock banks there lives a lass, And the glancin' of her sparklin' e'en. She's stately like yon youthful ash, That grows the cowslip braes between,. An' she 's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. * This song was an early production. It was recovered by the Editor from the oral communication of a lady residing at Glasgow, whom the Bard in early life affectionately admired. |