I ne'er can so much virtue find, No new-blown beauty fires my With Cupid's raving rage; heart But thine, which can such sweets impart, "Twas this, that like the morning sun, And when its destin'd day is done, With Peggy let me die. Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, Restore my Peggy's wonted charms, Those charms so dear to me! Oh! never rob them from these arms- When Crawford wrote these words, it is not certain that he knew more of the old song which gave the name to his own than the single line which has descended to the present times, "My dearie an thou die." Burns briefly remarks," Another beautiful song of Crawford's." Cupid might have been spared from the third verse, and the flames of love from the fourth: but he was no regular dealer in darts and flames, like the poets of his time-his failings were more in the pastoral way, and we have few lyrics of a purer or more natural or more graceful character, than those which he composed. FOR EVER, FORTUNE, WILT THOU PROVE. For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove And when we meet a mutual heart But busy busy still art thou To bind the loveless, joyless vow- All other blessings I resign Make but the dear Amanda mine. This beautiful complaint against the caprice of fortune was written by James Thomson; and the name by which it is commonly known is "Logan Water," though neither by allusion nor circumstance can such locality be claimed for it. The last four lines of the first verse, and the first four lines of the second, contain all that can be urged concerning the disappointment of youthful affection ; and many a heart will respond to their pathetic complaint. This song first appeared united to the air of "Logan Water," in the Orpheus Caledonius in 1725. MY LOVE ANNIE'S VERY BONNIE. What numbers shall the Muse repeat? What verse be found to praise my Annie? Each swain admires, and owns she's bonnie. She sets each youthful heart on fire; This lovely darling, dearest care, This new delight, this charming Annie, All day the amorous youths convene, In blissful dreams they still adore her. Among the crowd Amyntor came, He look'd, he lov'd, he bow'd to Annie; His words were few, his wishes many. This destin'd breast can ne'er relieve ye. Young Damon came with Cupid's art, Cease, poor Amyntor, cease bewailing. On yonder plain the nymphs are many: And leave to Damon his own Annie. I have a strong belief that the name of this song should be "Annan Water;" a fine ballad of that name will be found in this work, with many marks of antiquity about it, and possessing the line, "O, my love Annie's very bonnie." Burns was informed that the honour belonged to Allan Water, in Strathallan; but what I have said seems nearly decisive of the question. Annan Water is no vulgar stream: it is noticed by Collins in his admirable Ode on the Superstitions of Scotland, in the lays of Sir Walter Scott, and it runs smooth in many a lesser song. The banks, which in many places are very romantic, were in ancient times so thickly clothed with wood, that it was the vaunt of a Halliday, a warlike laird of Corehead, that he could let his deer-dog into the wood at his own door, and it would never run off the land of a Halliday, nor be seen for wood till it came out at the firth of Solway— a fair inheritance. This is one of Crawford's songs. It offers violence to propriety in seeking to unite Amyntor in wedlock with Annie-but after she could fall in love with Damon, she was capable of any foolish thing. I HAD A HORSE. I had a horse, and I had nae mair, My purse was light, and my heart was sair. But my wit it was fu' ready. To fee mysel' to a lowland laird, |