Her bonny face it was as meek The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet The Highland hills I've wander❜d wide, But Phemie was the blithest lass Burns says, "I composed these verses while I stayed at Ochtertyre with Sir William Murray. The lady, who was also at Ochtertyre at the same time, was the well known toast, Miss Euphemia Murray of Lentrose, who was called, and very justly, the Flower of Strathmore." To this notice by the poet, I have only to add, that his Muse called to the aid of the lady's charms an old song, of the same measure, from which the first lines of the present beautiful lyric are borrowed. CONTENTED WI' LITTLE. Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought; touch. A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way, Burns wrote this little gay and happy song to an air of which he confesses himself very fond-" Lumps o' Pudding." He has written nothing of a joyous nature more felicitously. The old proverbial lore lends wisdom to the verse, the love of freedom is delicately expressed and vindicated, the sorrows of life are softened by song, and drink seems only to flow to set the tongue of the Muse a-moving. The poet accounts for his inspiration, on another occasion: Just ae half mutchkin does me prime, Aught less is little; Then back I rattle on the rhyme, As gleg's a whittle. AULD ROB MORRIS. There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; But oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard; A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed, The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead. The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane ; O, had she but been of a lower degree, I then might hae hop'd she wad smil❜d upon me! "Auld Rob Morris" has made mirth in Scotland for many generations. The first "Robert" was coarse, free, and graphic; the second "Robert" came with an increase of humour from the hand of Ramsay, and with some abatement of the grossness; and "Robert" the third came forth a discreet, and delicate, and thoughtful personage from the hand of Robert Burns. The dramatic form of Ramsay's song adds greatly to its life and buoyancy; much of it was borrowed from the ancient lyric, and from the same place Burns took the two commencing lines of the present song. MY JEANIE. Come, let me take thee to my breast, And I shall spurn as vilest dust The warld's wealth and grandeur ! I ask for dearest life alone That I may live to love her. Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms, Than sic a moment's pleasure: And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, And on thy lips I seal my vow, Burns, in a letter to George Thomson, imputes the composition of this song to the benevolence of Coila, the muse of his native district: he imagines she followed him to the banks of the Nith, and poured the song on his glowing fancy. AULD LANG SYNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll take a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot VOL. IV. Since auld lang syne. H |