MY BONNIE MARY. Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, A service to my bonnie lassie ! The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith; And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; In the notes on Johnson's Museum, Burns claims all this song as his composition except the first four lines. It is written to the old air, called "The silver tassie," and has more of the chivalrous ballad style about it than what was customary with the poet. He seldom went back into old times and old feelings: he stamped off the passing spirit of the moment with unequalled vigour ; the vision of ancient war which the hero saw at Berwick-law came not frequently upon his fancy. WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD. lad; gae mad, O whistle, and I'll come to you, my O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad; O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad: O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad; Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me, "Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad," owes its poetry to Burns, and its tune to John Bruce, a musician of Dumfries, an admirable fiddler, a vehement Jacobite, and a fiery highlander. An old song of the same name once existed the title was more peculiarly Scottish, Whistle, and I'll come till ye, my lad;" and it seems to have lent the chorus and the character to the present song. Burns amended the fourth line thus: Thy Jeanie will venture wi' ye, my lad; and he vindicates the alteration. "A dame whom the graces have attired in witchcraft, and whom the loves have armed with lightning,-a fair one-herself the heroine of the song, insists on the amendment-and dispute her commands if you dare!" I have restored the original line. Jeanie's taste was sometimes as incorrect as the poet's love. THE RANTIN DOG THE DADDIE O'T. O wha my babie-clouts will buy? The rantin dog the daddie o't.— Wha will own he did the faut? Wha will tell me how to ca't? The rantin dog the daddie o't. When I mount the creepie-chair, The rantin dog the daddie o't.— Wha will crack to me my lane? The rantin dog the daddie o't. To illustrate this song I ought to make a drawing of the "stool of repentance," and place Burns upon it, appearing to listen with a grave if not with a repentant spirit, while inwardly resolving to resent this moral discipline in satiric verse. The poet wrote and sent the song to a young lady whom he had furnished with a very good reason for singing When I mount the creepie-chair, Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair, The rantin dog the daddie o't.— NANCY. Thine am I, my faithful fair, To thy bosom lay my heart, There to throb and languish : Though despair had wrung its core, Take away these rosy lips, Rich with balmy treasure: Night without a morning: Nature gay adorning. In autumn, his propitious season for song, Burns wrote this lyric: the first verse is in his own impassioned and vigorous way; the second is more delicate and feeble. Like many writers of love he sometimes went to a sacred source for his sentiments; but songs, the simple beauty of " Take away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me," has not been improved either by Burns or Thomson. |