Who the Jamie of this song was no one has told us, nor whether the strain is partly old or wholly new. No doubt it must be numbered among those hasty and quickly considered things, which it was the pleasure of Burns to write and leave unclaimed, with the intention, perhaps, of giving the subject and air his more serious thoughts on some day of leisure, which never arrived. The air is plaintive, but the name has no affinity with the song.

The story is, however, an old one: a gay lover, who ranged at will among the beauties of the land, and seemed, like quicksilver, coy as well as bright, is at last ensnared by the charms of one who not only scorns him, but forbids him ever to think of her more. Jamie belike, when reflection arrives, may enact the knowing part of Duncan Gray, and gain her hand by seeming to disregard it. At all events, he seems one who will try no tragic conclusions, nor even speak of "lowpin owre a linn." He resembles more the honest lad of Annandale, who declared he was sae vexed when Jenny Johnston of Howbottom refused his hand, that he supped mair parridge than wad have served three mowers, and kicked the muckle pot till it gade owre ringing.

OUT OVER THE FORTH.

Tune-" Charlie Gordon's welcome hame."

I.

OUT over the Forth I look to the north,

But what is the north and its Highlands to me? The south nor the east gie ease to my breast, The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea.

II.

But I look to the west, when I

gae to rest,

That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;

For far in the west lives he I lo'e best,

The lad that is dear to my babie and me.

"of this simple

"The finest examples," says Jeffrey, and unpretending tenderness, is to be found in those songs which are likely to transmit the name of Burns to all future generations. He found this delightful trait in the old Scottish ballads which he took for his model, and upon which he improved with a felicity and delicacy of imitation altogether unrivalled in the history of 'iterature. Sometimes it is the brief and simple pathos of the genuine old ballad." In one of his letters to Cunningham, dated 11th March, 1791, Burns quotes the last four lines, and inquires how his friend likes it. The air was altered by Clarke; and the words suffered a change-a change that did not at all affect the sense.

THE LASS OF ECCLEFECHAN.

Tune-" Jacky Latin."

I.

GAT ye me, O gat ye me,
O gat ye me wi' naething?
Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
A mickle quarter basin.
Bye attour, my gutcher has

A hich house and a laigh ane,

A' for bye, my bonnie sel',

The toss of Ecclefechan.

II.

O haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
O haud your tongue and jauner;
I held the gate till you I met,
Syne I began to wander :

I tint my whistle and my sang,

I tint my peace and pleasure;

But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing, Wad airt me to my treasure.

During the Poet's first visit to Annandale, an old song, called "The Lass of Ecclefechan," was sung to him, with which he was so amused that he noted it down, and, at a leisure moment, rendered the language more delicate, and the sentiments less warm, and sent it to the Musical Museum. The name of this pleasant little town was said to be unsuitable for rhyme. One day, as Burns and his brother gauger, Lewars, were riding along Bonshawbraes, the latter said, "Come, give us a song in which one of the lines will rhyme to Ecclefechan." The Poet mused a little, and, with a humorous story running in his head, composed, and chanted as he composed, a song hitherto confined to manuscript, called "The Trogger." The heroine of the ditty speaks

"As I came down by Annan side,

Intending for the border,

Amang the scroggie banks and braes,

Wha met me but a trogger."

The description which she gives of her experiences is very graphic, but too much in the free manner of the old rustic minstrels. In the last verse the Poet remembered the object of the song :—

"Then up we gat, and took the road,

And in by Ecclefechan,

Whar the brandy-stoup we gart it clink,

And strong ale ream the quech in."

No incident which throws light on the character of the great national Poet of Scotland should be left untold in a work of this nature.

THE COOPER O' CUDDIE.

Tune-" Bab at the bowster."

I.

THE Cooper O' Cuddie cam' here awa,
And ca'd the girrs out owre us a’—
And our gude-wife has gotten a ca'
That anger'd the silly gude-man, O.
We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
Behind the door, behind the door;
We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
And cover him under a mawn, O.

II.

He sought them out, he sought them in,
Wi', deil hae her! and, deil hae him!
But the body was sae doited and blin',
He wist na where he was gaun, O.

III.

They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn, 'Till our gude-man has gotten the scorn; On ilka brow she's planted a horn,

And swears that they shall stanʼ, O. We'll hide the cooper behind the door, Behind the door, behind the door; We'll hide the cooper behind the door,

And cover him under a mawn, O.