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This song was found among the manuscripts of Burns -the air of " Morag," to which it is sung, the poet was passionately fond of. The chorus is an encumbrance, as all choruses are; but here I cannot dispense with it, for the continuation of the sense requires its presence. The chorus, in lyric composition, is capable of great diversity. The story and the sentiment of the song might be infused into it.

THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.

Loud blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover;

Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young Highland Rover
Far wanders nations over.
Where'er he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden;
Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon!

The trees now naked groaning,

Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,

The birdies dowie moaning,

Shall a' be blithly singing,

And every flower be springing.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,
When by his mighty warden
My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey,
And bonnie Castle-Gordon.

"The Young Highland Rover" is imagined to have been Prince Charles Stuart. Burns was inoculated with Jacobitism during his northern tour, and his Muse in one of her retrospective fits conceived the present song. The Stuarts have all gone down in sorrow to the grave; and over their unhappy dust the delicate benevolence of George the Fourth has placed a noble monu

ment.

LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE?

Louis, what reck I by thee,

Or Geordie on his ocean?
Dyvor, beggar louns to me,
I reign in Jeanie's bosom.

Let her crown my love her law,
And in her breast enthrone me:
Kings and nations, swith awa!
Reif randies I disown ye!

"Louis, what reck I by thee?" is one of the shortest and happiest of all the lyrics of Burns. It is an early composition: the King of France was on his tottering throne, Geordie was reigning on his ocean, and Jean was in the bloom of youth, when the poet owned her love for his law, took her bosom for his throne, and did homage. Geordie still reigns on his ocean, and none of the four winds of heaven can waft an enemy against him who can brave him for a moment.

LAST MAY, A BRAW WOOER.

Last May, a braw wooer came down the lang glen,

And sair wi' his love he did deave me :

I said there was naething I hated like men,
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me,
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me.

He spake o' the darts in my

bonnie black een,

And vow'd for my love he was dying;

I said he might die when he liked for Jean :
But Gude forgie me for lying, for lying,
But Gude forgie me for lying!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers;

I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less,
The deil tak his taste to gae near her!

He

up the Gateslack to my black cousin Bess,

Guess ye how, the jaud! I could bear her, could bear

her,

Guess ye how, the jaud! I could bear her.

But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care,

I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there!
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebors might say I was saucy;
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I speer'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin,

And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchled feet-
Gude save us! how he fell a swearin, a swearin,
Gude save us! how he fell a swearin.

He begged, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

to-morrow,

The old song of "The Queen of the Lothians came cruising to Fife" had some share in the composition of this admirable lyric. It furnished the measure, the subject, and the general outline of the story; but it is bald, meagre, and unembellished; there are no sallies of

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