But gleg as light are lovers' e'en,
When kind love is in the e'e.

It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learned clerks;
But weel the watching lover marks
The kind love that's in her e'e.

August, 1795.

quick

NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE GROVE IN GREEN.

Now spring has clad the grove in green,

And strewed the lea wi' flowers;

The furrowed, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers;
While ilka thing in nature join

Their sorrows to forego,

O why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps of wo!

And safe beneath the shady thorn
Defies the angler's art.

My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I;

But love, wi' unrelenting beam,
Has scorched my fountains dry.

The little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,

Was mine; till love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom,
And now beneath the withering blast
My youth and joy consume.

The wakened laverock warbling springs, And climbs the early sky, Winnowing blithe her dewy wings

In morning's rosy eye.

As little recked I sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare

O' witching love, in luckless hour,
Made me the thrall o' care.

O had my fate been Greenland snows, Or Afric's burning zone,

Wi' man and nature leagued my foes, So Peggy ne'er I'd known!

The wretch whase doom is, "hope nae mair,"
What tongue his woes can tell!
Within whase bosom, save despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell!

August, 1795.

O BONNY WAS YON ROSY BRIER.

"Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my Poems, presented to the lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of Chloris."- Burns to Mr. Thomson, August, 1795.

O BONNY was yon rosy brier

That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man; And bonny she, and ah! how dear! It shaded frae the e'enin' sun.

Yon rose-buds in the morning dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!
But purer was the lover's vow

They witnessed in their shade yestreen.

All in its rude and prickly bower,

That crimson rose, how sweet and fair!

But love is far a sweeter flower

Amid life's thorny path o' care.

The pathless wild and wimpling burn, winding brook
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine;

And I the world, nor wish, nor scorn,
Its joys and griefs alike resign.

INSCRIPTION

FOR AN ALTAR TO INDEPENDENCE, AT KERROUGHTREE THE SEAT OF MR. HERON.

Assigned by Dr. Currie to the summer of 1795.

THOU of an independent mind,

With soul resolved, with soul resigned;

Prepared Power's proudest frown to brave, Who wilt not be, nor have a slave; Virtue alone who dost revere,

Thy own reproach alone dost fear,
Approach this shrine, and worship here:

THE DUKE OF QUEENSBERRY.

Allusion has several times been made to the Duke of Queensberry, as a personage held in hatred by the poet. The two following stanzas were probably a part of the election-ballad of 1790, but omitted from the copy sent by the author to Mr. Graham.

How shall I sing Drumlanrig's Grace-
Discarded remnant of a race

Once great in martial story
His forbears' virtues all contrasted
The very name of Douglas blasted
His that inverted glory.

Hate, envy, oft the Douglas bore;
But he has superadded more,

?

ancestors

And sunk them in contempt; Follies and crimes have stained the name, But, Queensberry, thine the virgin claim, From aught that's good exempt.