Maria Whitefoord, eldest daughter of Sir John Whitefoord, and now Mrs. Cranston, was the heroine of this song; it was written as a farewell to the family inheritance. The scenery is varied and beautiful; the banks of the river are broken into fine dens and glades, and clothed with rich wood-part natural, part planted. The ancestor of the Whitefoords supplied, it is said, the ground work of the character of Sir Arthur Wardour in the Antiquary: one of the family, Caleb Whitefoord, was a small poet and critic, and lived and died in London. Ballochmyle passed into the hands of Mr. Alexander, a gentleman who had enriched himself by trade it is now the property of his son, who resides almost constantly on the estate, and, by his attention to the condition of his peasantry, supplies worthily the place of the ancient family.

The song was first published in the Musical Museum, to a tune by Allan Masterton.

TO MARY IN HEAVEN.

Tune-" Death of Captain Cook."

I.

THOU ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.

O Mary dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

II.

That sacred hour can I forget,

Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past;

Thy image at our last embrace ;

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

III.

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thick’ning green;
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene;
The flow'rs sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray—
Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.

IV.

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but th' impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

The story of Mary Campbell, and the history of this exquisite song, have been related in the Life of the Poet. She was from Campbell-Town, in Argyllshire, and lived at Coilsfield, in the humble situation of dairy-maid to Colonel Montgomery; she was handsome rather than lovely, and had the neat foot, and the low melodious voice which the Poet loved. Burns was delighted with her good sense, and on Sundays loved to show her his

favourite walks on the banks of the Ayr, in the woods of Coilsfield, and by the stream of Faile, where a thorn is pointed out as connected with their story. Her death, which was sudden, he mourned with much sincerity, and the anniversary of the day on which she died he was observed to be dull and low spirited.

This affecting and sublime ode was the fruit of one of those annual fits of melancholy musing. Mrs. Burns relates that her husband spent the day in the harvestfield, and seemed in his usual spirits; but, as the twilight darkened, he grew sad about something, and at length went out into the barn-yard, and, though the evening was chilly, refused to come in. He strode slowly up and down among his ricks, looking at the sky, which was bright with stars. His wife knew that he was busy musing, and having left him for some time, found him, on her return, stretched among some corn-sheaves, with his eyes fixed on a star, which shone, she said, like another moon. It was now twelve o'clock or more; the Poet walked into his house, and wrote down the song "To Mary in Heaven," as it now stands. It seems to have been composed at the time intimated in the first verse. The Poet requested Johnson to set it to the plaintive air of "Captain Cook."