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FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

Is there, for honest poverty

That hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Our toils obscure, and a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden-gray, and a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,

A man's a man for a' that;

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that:

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that:

For a' that, and a' that,

His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he mauna fa' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, and a' that,

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray

that come it may,

As come it will for a' that,

That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,

May bear the gree, and a' that.

For a' that, and a' that,

It's coming yet, for a' that,

That man to man, the warld o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that.

"A great critic (Aikin) on song says, that love and wine are the exclusive themes for song writing. The following is on neither subject, and consequently is no song; but will be allowed to be, I think, two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme."- In this manner Burns speaks of this pithy, sarcastic, and manly song. That it re-echoes the sentiments of his own heart there can be little doubt: he believed in the supremacy of genius, and was something of a leveller; and who can blame him? During one year he enjoyed the friendship of the northern nobility, and for seven years he felt their neglect. During his visit to Edin

burgh, he was caressed as no poet was ever caressed: he expected this sunshine to last, and looked for fortune to follow; but he was not prepared for disappointment, and his fortitude was not equal to his other powers. Το go at once from the rich man's wine and a table covered with plate, to water from the well and the homely fare and rustic work of a farmer-to leave my lady's hand for the rough stilts of the plough--were descents beyond his expectation, and far too strong for his spirit:-he sank, and died of a broken heart. This song was preceded by many a "For a' that and a' that," both jacobitical and domestic; but none are worthy of remembrance.

MARY MORISON.

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see,

That make the miser's treasure poor :
How blithely wad I bide the stoure,
weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure

Α

Of lovely Mary Morison.

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Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed through the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Though this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
Ye are na Mary Morison.

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only fault is loving thee?
If love for love thou wiltna gie,
At least be pity to me shown!
A thought ungentle canna be

The thought o' Mary Morison.

Mary Morison" is one of the best and the earliest of Burns's songs. It is written much in the antique style, and the name of the heroine has a national look and sound which excite an interest worth ten thousand Chlorises and Phyllises, and all the fabulous tribe of Arcadian damsels.. That the poet did not think well of it himself, we have his own authority: "I do not think very remarkable either for its merits or demerits;-it is impossible to be always original, entertaining, and witty."

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O MAY, THY MORN.

O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
As the mirk night o' December;
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber:
And dear was she I darena name,
But I will aye remember ;
And dear was she I darena name,
But I will aye remember.

And here's to them, that, like oursel,
Can push about the jorum ;

And here's to them that wish us weel,
May a' that's gude watch o'er them;
And here's to them we darena tell,

The dearest o' the quorum;
And here's to them we darena tell,

The dearest o' the quorum.

This happy and original little lyric was one of many which flowed from the pen of Burns into the Musical Museum. The contrast of the first and last verses is very great, yet very natural. The poet imagines himself warmed with wine, and seated among his companions, to whom he announces, as the glass goes round,

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