Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain
And yet in secret languish ;

To feel a fire in every vein,
Nor dare disclose my anguish.

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown,
I fain my griefs would cover;
The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan,
Betray the hapless lover.

I know thou doom'st me to despair,
Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me;
But, O Eliza, hear one prayer-
For pity's sake forgive me!

The music of thy voice I heard,
Nor wist while it enslav'd me;
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,
Till fears no more had sav'd me:
Th' unwary sailor thus, aghast
The wheeling torrent viewing,
'Mid circling horrors sinks at last,
In overwhelming ruin.

Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie.1

Tune-"Roy's Wife."

Chorus-Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie ?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie ?
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus, for pity?

Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katie ?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward-
An aching, broken heart, my Katie !
Canst thou leave me, &c.

1 This appears to be an overture to the offended Mrs Riddell, or so Chambers supposes. A kind of lyric reply,

in the lady's hand, was found among Burns's papers,

THE TEAR-DROP

Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear

That fickle heart of thine, my Katie !
Thou mayst find those will love thee dear,
But not a love like mine, my Katie,
Canst thou leave me, &c.

My Nanie's Awa.1

Tune-"There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame."

Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er her braes;
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
But to me it's delightless-my Nanie's awa.

The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
They mind me o' Nanie-and Nanie's awa.

Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa',
Give over for pity-my Nanie's awa.

Come Autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay:
The dark, dreary Winter, and wild-driving snaw
Alane can delight me-now Nanie's awa.

The Tear-drop.2

WAE is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
Lang, lang has Joy been a stranger to me :
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,

And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my ear.

1 Mrs MacLehose was one of Burns's Nanies or Nancies, the lines may or may not refer to her.

2 The lines might shew a presenti. ment of early death, dramatically put.

Love thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I luv'd;
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I pruv'd;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings, will soon be at rest.

Oh, if I were—where happy I hae been-
Down by yon stream, and yon bonie castle-green;
For there he is wand'ring and musing on me,

Wha wad soon dry the tear-drop that clings to my e'e.1

For the sake o' Somebody.2

My heart is sair-I dare na tell,

My heart is sair for Somebody;

I could wake a winter night
For the sake o' Somebody.
O-hon! for Somebody!
O-hey! for Somebody!

I could range the world around,
For the sake o' Somebody.

Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love,
O, sweetly smile on Somebody!
Frae ilka danger keep him free,
And send me safe my Somebody!
O-hon! for Somebody!

O-hey! for Somebody!

I wad do what wad I not?
For the sake o' Somebody.

A Man's a Man for a' that.

Tune-"For a' that.

Is there for honest Poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!

Johnson's reading.

2 "Somebody" remains anonymous.

1 "The tear frae his Philis's e'e," is

8 Sent to Thomson on Jan. 15, 1795, having then been composed for a fortnight.

T

A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT

For a' that, an' a' that.

Our toils obscure an' a' that,

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A Man's a Man for a' that:

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,

His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa'd that!
For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities an' a' that;

The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)

That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,

Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

It's coming yet for a' that,

That Man to Man, the world o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that.

b fellow.

c blockhead.

d try.

⚫ pre-eminence.

Craigieburn Wood.1

SWEET fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakes the morrow;
But a' the pride o' Spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And Care his bosom wringing!

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet dare na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,

If thou shalt love another,

When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.

Versicles of 1795.

The solemn League and Covenant.1

THE Solemn League and Covenant

8

Now brings a smile, now brings a tear;
But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs:
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneer.

1 A recast of an earlier picce by Burns. 2 Written in vol. xiii. of The Statistical Account of Scotland, s.v. Balmaghie. The writer of the pages on Balmaghie had remarked on the rude rhymes of a Covenanting epitaph. As a rule, Burns preferred Dundee to the Covenanters, who, if they wished to be "free" them

selves, were equally anxious to deny freedom to everyone who disagreed with them.

3 Cunningham gives these two lines

8.8:

"Cost Scotland blood, cost Scotland tears;

But it sealed Freedom's sacred cause."