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My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer.'

My Heart's in the Highlands
She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonny wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.

My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing.
The golden hours on angel wings

Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Highland Mary.
But, oh! fell death's untimely frost
That nipt my flower sae early.

Ibid.
It's guid to be merry and wise,
It's guid to be honest and true,
It 's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.

Here's a Health to Them that's Awa'.
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victory!
Now's the day and now's the hour;
See the front o’ battle lour.

Bannockburn.

Liberty's in every blow!

Let us do or die.8

Ibid,

1

In durance vile 4 here must I wake and weep,
And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.

Epistle from Esopus to Maria.

1 These lines from an old song, entitled “The Strong Walls of Derry,"
Burns made a basis for his own beautiful ditty.

2 See Heywood, page 9.
8 See Fletcher, page 183.

4 Durance vile. -- W. Kenrick (1766): Falstaf's Wedding, act i. sc. 2.
BURKE : The Present Discontents.

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Ibid.

Ibia.

Oh, my luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June;
Oh, my luve 's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.

A Red, Red Rose
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.

Contented wi' Little.
Where sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. Tam o' Shanter.
Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet
To think how monie counsels sweet,
How monie lengthened sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises.
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither,
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The landlady and Tam grew gracious
Wi’ favours secret, sweet, and precious.

Ibid.
The landlord's laugh was ready chorus.

Ibid.
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 flower, its bloom is shed;
Or, like the snow-fall in the river,
A moment white, then melts forever.
Nae man can tether time or tide.?

Ibid.
That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane.
Inspiring, bold John Barleycorn,
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
As Tammie glow'red, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid

1 See Heywood, page 10.

But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love forever.

Ae Fond Kiss
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted !

Ibid. To see her is to love her,

And love but her forever,
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

Bonny Lesley. Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon,

How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care ?

The Banks of Doon.
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

Sweet Sensibility, The rank is but the guinea's stamp,

The man 's the gowd for a' that.”
A prince can make a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man 's aboon his might,

Ibid.
Guid faith, he maunna fa' that.8
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing
Than aught in the world beside, – Jessy !

Jessy. Some hae meat and canna eat,

And some would eat that want it; But we hae meat, and we can eat,

Sae let the Lord be thankit. It was a' for our rightfu’ King

We left fair Scotland's strand. 1 To know her was to love her. – Rogers : Jacqueline, stanza 1. 2 I weigh the man, not his title; 't is not the king's stamp can make the metal better. – WYCHERLY: The Plaindealer, act i. sc. 1.

* This ballad first appeared in Johnson's · Museum,” 1796. Sir Walter Scott was never tired of hearing it sung.

For a' that and a' that.

Grace before Heat

A' for our Rightfu' King.4

Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain.

Afor our Rightfu King.

He turn'd him right and round about

Upon the Irish shore,
And gae his bridle reins a shake,

With, " Adieu for evermore, my dear,
And adieu for evermore.'

Ibid.

WILLIAM PITT. 1759-1806.

Necessity is the argument of tyrants ; it is the creed of slaves.

Speech on the India Bill, Norember, 1783.

Prostrate the beauteous ruin lies; and all
That shared its shelter perish in its fall.

The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin. No. xxxvi.

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Loud roared the dreadful thunder,
The rain a deluge showers.

The Bay of Biscay.
As she lay, on that day,
In the bay of Biscay, 0!

Ibid.

? Under the impression that this stanza is ancient, Scott has made very free use of it, first in "Rokeby” (1813), and then in the “Monastery (1816). In “Rokeby" he thus introduces the verse : –

He turn'd his charger as he spake,

Upon the river shore,
He

gave his bridle reins a shake,
Said, “ Adieu for evermore, my love,
And adieu for evermore.

? See Milton, page 232.

GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER.

1762-1836.

On their own merits modest men are dumb.

Epilogue to the Heir at Lab.
And what's impossible can't be,
And never, never comes to pass. The Maid of the Voor.
Three stories high, long, dull, and old,
As great lords' stories often are.

Ibid. .
Like two single gentlemen rolled into one.

Lodgings for Single Gentlemen.

But when ill indeed,
E’en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed. Ibid.

When taken,
To be well shaken.

The Newcastle Apothecary.
Thank you, good sir, I owe you one.

The Poor Gentleman. Act i. Sc.2.

O Miss Bailey!
Unfortunate Miss Bailey !

Love laughs at Locksmiths. Act ü. Song.
'Tis a very fine thing to be father-in-law
To a very magnificent three-tailed Bashaw!

Blue Beard. Act ii. Sc. 5. I had a soul above buttons.

Sylvester Daggerwood, or New Hay at the Old Market. Sc. 1. Mynheer Vandunck, though he never was drunk, Sipped brandy and water gayly.

Mynheer Vandunck

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JAMES HURDIS. 1763-1801.

Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed.

The Village Curate. 1 To rise with the lark, and go to bed with the lamb. — BRETON : Court and Country (1618 ; reprint, p. 183).

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