Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty, In ae constellation shine ; Goddess o' this soul o' mine! I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel I should tine. "Composed on my little idol, the charming, lovely Davies:" such are the words of Burns which accompany this song in the Reliques. The song corresponds with the character which he draws, it is very brief and very beautiful. To the same lady the poet addresses one of his most laboured letters-he is apologizing for his indolence. "In vain remorse rears her horrent crest, and rouses all her snakes: beneath the deadly-fixed eye and leaden hand of indolence, their wildest ire is charmed into the torpor of the bat, slumbering out the rigours of winter in the chink of a ruined wall." The ease and nature of his verse seldom found the way into the poet's prose; and though many passages of his letters are written with great ease and animation, and sparkling with poetic imagery, yet, on the whole, they are laboured and cumbrous, compared with his inimitable verse. EVAN BANKS. Slow spreads the gloom my soul desires, O stream whose murmurs still I hear! And she, in simple beauty drest, Ye lofty banks that Evan bound; Blest stream! she views thee haste to Clyde. Can all the wealth of India's coast Atone for years in absence lost? Nor more may aught my steps divide From that dear stream which flows to Clyde. I found this song, when I was a boy, in an old Magazine, in a shepherd's shiel among the moorlands of Nithsdale, and I was so charmed with its descriptive beauty, that it was impressed on my memory at a couple of readings. It was printed in Burns's Reliques, by mistake, for one of his productions; this was corrected by one of the Reviews, which took the song from Burns and gave it to Miss Williams. And she, in simple beauty drest, These are sweet and delicate lines, and worthy of the great poet to whom the song was erroneously imputed. THE CRADLE SONG. Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing, O saftly close thy blinkin' e'e! A sailor laddie o'er the sea; Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing, O saftly close thy blinkin' e'e! Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing, For thou art doubly dear to me. Thy face is simple, sweet an' mild, Like ony summer e’ening fa'; Thy sparkling e'e is bonnie black; Thy neck is like the mountain snaw. Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing, O saftly close thy blinkin' e'e! Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing, For thou art doubly dear to me. O but thy daddie's absence lang Would break my dowie heart in twa, Wert thou na left a dautit pledge, To steal the eerie hours awa! The highland Baloo, or nursing song, is of a martial character, and very unlike this sweet little effusion from pen of Richard Gall. the Hey balou, my sweet wee Donald, Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie ! Through the lowlands, o'er the border, Syne to the highlands hame to me. The highland virago sees in imagination her son returning victorious from a foray, and rejoices in the resemblance which he bears to the head of the clan who had honoured her with his caresses. The more gentle lowland dame seeks to hush her own feelings and her child at the same time with the hope of her husband's return, the fair looks of her offspring, and the continuance of her love. |