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NANCY.

Thine am I, my faithful fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy.

To thy bosom lay my heart,

There to throb and languish :
Though despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.

Take away these rosy lips,

Rich with balmy treasure:

Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure.
What is life when wanting love?.
Night without a morning:

Love's the cloudless summer sun,

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,
It's no the driving drift and snaw;
the tear comes in my e'e,

But

ay

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:
May life's fell blasts out o'er ye blaw;
In sorrow may ye never part!
My spirit lives, but strength is gone;

The mountain-fires now blaze in vain :
Remember, sons, the deeds I've done,
And in your deeds I'll live again!

When on yon muir our gallant clan
Frae boasting foes their banners tore,
Wha show'd himself a better man,

Or fiercer wav'd the red claymore?
But when in peace-then mark me there—
When through the glen the wand'rer came,

I gave him of our lordly fare,

I gave him here a welcome hame.

The auld will speak, the young maun hear;
Be cantie, but be good and leal;
Your ain ills ay hae heart to bear,
Anither's ay hae heart to feel.
So, ere I set, I'll see you shine,
I'll see you triumph ere I fa';
My parting breath shall boast you mine-
Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'.

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,
I lo'ed her meikle and lang:

She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart,
And I may e'en gae hang.

A coof cam' in wi' rowth o' gear,
And I hae tint my dearest dear;
But woman is but warld's gear,
Sae let the bonnie lass gang.

Whae'er ye

be that woman love,

To this be never blind,

Nae ferlie 'tis though fickle she prove,

A woman has❜t by kind:

O woman lovely, woman fair!

An angel form's faun to thy share,

'Twad been o'er meikle to've gien thee mair,
I mean an angel mind.

The natural mixture of sorrow and satire in this little song makes it one of the happiest of the many lyric compositions of Burns. His studied and elaborate efforts were directed to the embellishment of the truly splendid work of George Thomson, while his more hasty, and, it must not be disguised, less discreet sallies were dedicated to the service of an humbler production-the Mu

seum.

But some of those hasty things are conceived in the poet's happiest manner; and they who look into Johnson will see many gems of antique verse, many native pearls of price, and many pieces of virgin gold glittering before them. The fickleness of a lady of the name of Stuart occasioned this song. She had deserted the poet's friend.

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