I REIGN IN JEANIE'S BOSOM

⚫ bankrupt.

It is na, Jean, thy bonie face.2

IT is na, Jean, thy bonie face,
Nor shape that I admire ;
Altho' thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awauk desire.

Something, in ilka part o' thee,
To praise, to love, I find,
But dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than, if I canna make thee sae,
At least to see thee blest.

Content am I, if heaven shall give
But happiness to thee;

And as wi' thee I'd wish to live,
For thee I'd bear to die.

b fellows.

1 A welcome to Ellisland.

Auld lang syne.1

SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne ! 2

Chorus.-For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.*
For auld, &c.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

MY BONIE MARY

And there's a hand, my trusty fere *!
And gie's a hand o' thine!

And we'll tak a right gude-willie waught,b
For auld lang syne.
For auld, &c.

My Bonie Mary.1

Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go,

A service to my bonie lassie.
The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith;

Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry;
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bonie Mary.

The trumpets sound, the banners fly,

The glittering spears are ranked ready:
The shouts o' war are heard afar,

The battle closes deep and bloody;
It's not the roar o' sea or shore,

Wad mak me langer wish to tarry!
Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar-
It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary!

The Parting Kiss.2

HUMID seal of soft affections,
Tenderest pledge of future bliss,
Dearest tie of young connections,
Love's first snowdrop, virgin kiss!
companion.

1 The first four lines, according to Burns, are traditional.

2 The "humid seal" suggests Mr Matthew Arnold's "Ere the parting

b hearty draught.

kiss be dry," a line which he altered in later editions. The authorship is prac tically unknown.

Speaking silence, dumb confession,
Passion's birth, and infant's play,
Dove-like fondness, chaste concession,
Glowing dawn of future day!

Sorrowing joy, Adieu's last action,
(Lingering lips must now disjoin),
What words can ever speak affection
So thrilling and sincere as thine!

Written in Friars Carse Hermitage
on Nithside.1

THOU whom chance may hither lead,

Be thou clad in russet weed,

Be thou deckt in silken stole,

Grave these counsels on thy soul.

Life is but a day at most,

Sprung from night,-in darkness lost;2
Hope not sunshine ev'ry hour,

Fear not clouds will always lour.

As Youth and Love with sprightly dance,
Beneath thy morning star advance,
Pleasure with her siren air

May delude the thoughtless pair;
Let Prudence bless Enjoyment's cup,
Then raptur'd sip, and sip it up.

As thy day grows warm and high,
Life's meridian flaming nigh,

1 An amended copy. Some of his critical friends were urging Burns to write in English. Cowper was anxious that he should thus deprive himself of his natural vehicle of expression.

This is the version printed in the

edition of 1793. Some variations are found in manuscript copies.

2 Two lines are inserted here :'Day, how rapid in its flight,

Day, how few may see the night!'

FRIARS CARSE HERMITAGE

Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
Life's proud summits would'st thou scale?
Check thy climbing step, elate,
Evils lurk in felon wait:
Dangers, eagle-pinioned, bold,
Soar around each cliffy hold!
While cheerful Peace, with linnet song,
Chants the lowly dells among.

As the shades of ev'ning close,
Beck'ning thee to long repose;
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-nook of ease;
There ruminate with sober thought,

On all thou'st seen, and heard, and wrought,

?

8

1

And teach the sportive younkers round,
Saws of experience, sage and sound: 1
Say, man's true, genuine estimate,
The grand criterion of his fate,2
Is not, art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
Did many talents gild thy span?
Or frugal Nature grudge thee one
Tell them, and press it on their mind,
As thou thyself must shortly find,
The smile or frown of awful Heav'n,
To Virtue or to Vice is giv'n,
Say, to be just, and kind, and wise-
There solid self-enjoyment lies;
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways
Lead to be wretched, vile, and base.

Thus resign'd and quiet, creep
To the bed of lasting sleep,-
Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake,
Night, where dawn shall never break,

1 "And teach the sportive younker's
brain

Experience lore, oft taught with pain. "

2 "Say the criterion of their fate,

The important query of their state.' 8 "Wert thou cottager or king,

Peer or peasant? No such thing."