When I mount the creepie-chair, Wha will crack to me my lane? The rantin dog the daddie o't.— To illustrate this song I ought to make a drawing of the "stool of repentance," and place Burns upon it, appearing to listen with a grave if not with a repentant spirit, while inwardly resolving to resent this moral discipline in satiric verse. The poet wrote and sent the song to a young lady whom he had furnished with a very good reason for singing When I mount the creepie-chair, Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair, The rantin dog the daddie o't.— NANCY. Thine am I, my faithful fair, To thy bosom lay my heart, There to throb and languish : Take away these rosy lips, Rich with balmy treasure: Turn away thine eyes of love, Night without a morning: Nature gay adorning. In autumn, his propitious season for song, Burns wrote this lyric: the first verse is in his own impassioned and vigorous way; the second is more delicate and feeble. Like many writers of love songs, he sometimes went to a sacred source for his sentiments; but the simple beauty of "Take away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me," has not been improved either by Burns or Thomson. THE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA'. O how can I be blithe and glad, Or how can I gang brisk and braw, When the bonnie lad that I lo❜e best Is o'er the hills and far awa'? It's no the frosty winter wind, But ay the tear comes in my e'e, To think on him that's far awa'. My father pat me frae his door, My friends they hae disown'd me a', But I hae ane will take my part, The bonnie lad that's far awa'. A pair o' gloves he gae to me, And silken snoods he gae me twa; And I will wear them for his sake, The bonnie lad that's far awa'. The weary winter soon will pass, And spring will cleed the birken-shaw ; And my sweet babie will be born, And he'll come hame that's far awa'. Nothing can well surpass the artless, the simple, and pathetic complaint of this deserted lady. The starting verse alone is old: all the rest came fresh from Burns's heart and imagination; and it must sink into every heart that sings or reads it. GOOD NIGHT, AND JOY BE WI' YOU A'. Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'; Your harmless mirth has cheer'd my heart: When on yon muir our gallant clan Or fiercer wav'd the red claymore? I gave him here a welcome hame. The auld will speak, the young maun hear; This "Good night" was written by Sir Alexander Boswell, and it catches the spirit and seizes a stray line from an old song which began and ended with the same words. Burns wrote masonic verses to the air; but masonic songs are of too dark and mystic a nature to be felt by an unenlightened multitude; and I must consign all such compositions to the exclusive use of the "Children of light," the "Brethren of the mystic level." SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE. She's fair and fause that causes my smart, She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart, |