THE WOUNDED HARE INHUMAN man! curse on thy barb’rous art, Go live, poor wand'rer of the wood and field! No more the thickening brakes and verdant plains Seek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest, Perhaps a mother's anguish adds its woe; Oft as by winding Nith I, musing, wait The sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn, I'll miss thee sporting o'er the dewy lawn, And curse the ruffian's arm, and mourn thy hapless fate. DELIA, AN ODE "To the Editor of The Star.-Mr. Printer-If the productions of a simple ploughman can merit a place in the same paper with Sylvester Otway, and the other favourites of the Muses who illuminate the Star with the lustre of genius, your insertion of the enclosed trifle will be succeeded by future communications from —Yours, &c., R. BURNS. Ellisland, near Dumfries, 18th May, 1789.” FAIR the face of orient day, Sweet the lark's wild warbled lay, The flower-enamour'd busy bee But, Delia, on thy balmy lips Let me, no vagrant insect, rove; O let me steal one liquid kiss, For, Oh! my soul is parch'd with love. THE GARD'NER WI' HIS PAIDLE WHEN rosy May comes in wi' flowers, The Gard'ner wi' his paidle. The crystal waters gently fa', The merry bards are lovers a', The scented breezes round him blawThe Gard'ner wi' his paidle. When purple morning starts the hare To steal upon her early fare; Then thro' the dews he maun repair The Gard'ner wi' his paidle. When day, expiring in the west, ON A BANK OF FLOWERS. On a bank of flowers on a summer day, The youthful, blooming Nelly lay, When Willie, wand'ring thro' the wood, He gaz'd, he wish'd He fear'd, he blush'd, And trembled where he stood. Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd, Her lip, still as she fragrant breath'd, The springing lilies, sweetly prest, He fear'd, he blush'd, Her robes light-waving in the breeze, He fear'd, he blush'd, And sigh'd his very soul. As flies the partridge from the brake, On fear-inspired wings, So Nelly starting, half-awake, But Willie follow'd-as he should, He vow'd, he pray'd, He found the maid Forgiving all and good. YOUNG JOCKIE WAS THE BLYTHEST LAD. YOUNG Jockie was the blythest lad, He roos'd my een sae bonie blue, My Jockie toils upon the plain, Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw: And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain, When Jockie's owsen hameward ca'. An' aye the night comes round again, An' aye he vows he'll be my ain, THE BANKS OF NITH THE Thames flows proudly to the sea, But sweeter flows the Nith to me, Where Comyns ance had high command. When shall I see that honour'd land, How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales, Where lambkins wanton through the broom. JAMIE, COME TRY ME Chorus.-Jamie, come try me, If thou should ask my love, Jamie, come try me, &c. If thou should kiss me, love, Jamie, come try me! Jamie, come try me, &c. I LOVE MY LOVE IN SECRET My Sandy gied to me a ring, Was a' beset wi' diamonds fine; |