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May foes be strang, and friends be slack,
Ilk action, may he rue it,

May woman on him turn her back

That wrangs thee, Willie Stewart!

You're welcome, Willie Stewart, &c.

[The original of this little song was inscribed by the poet himself on a crystal tumbler. The relic was acquired by Sir Walter Scott, and is still preserved at Abbotsford. The subject of the verses was the factor at Closeburn, mentioned in the preceding note. He died in 1812. He had an interesting daughter, Mary Stewart, whom Burns celebrated in a somewhat similar strain, and forwarded the verses to Johnson for publication, united to the Jacobite air, "You're welcome, Charlie Stewart." It has not been explained why the name Mary was converted into "Polly."]

LOVELY POLLY STEWART.

(JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1796.)

Chorus.-O lovely Polly Stewart,

O charming Polly Stewart,

There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
That's half so fair as thou art!

The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's,
And art can ne'er renew it;
But worth and truth, eternal youth
Will gie to Polly Stewart.

O lovely Polly Stewart, &c.

May he whase arms shall fauld thy charms
Possess a leal and true heart!

To him be given to ken the heaven
He grasps in Polly Stewart !

O lovely Polly Stewart, &c.

[The charming Polly," having been born in 1775 could be only about sixteen years old when she became a theme for the Muse of Burns. Her after-career in life was not an enviable one. She married her cousin, by whom she had three sons: he fell into some scrape which compelled him to abscond, and "Polly" afterwards contracted a quasi-matrimonial alliance with a man named Welsh, but as she did not live happily with him, a separation soon took place. In 1806, she resided in Maxwelton with her father, who was no longer factor at Closeburn. Polly there picked up acquaintance with a Swiss soldier named Fleitz, with whom she went abroad. After many wanderings she at length died at Florence in 1847.

The chorus words of this song are still to be seen inscribed with the poet's diamond-pen, on a window-pane of the upper parlor of the Globe Inn, Dumfries.]

FRAGMENT DAMON AND SYLVIA.

Tune-"The Tither Morn."

(ALDINE ED., 1839.)

YON wandering rill that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, Sir,
Slides by a bower, where mony a flower
Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir;
There Damon lay with Sylvia gay,

To love they thought no crime, Sir,
The wild birds sang, the echoes rang,

While Damon's pulse beat time, Sir.

hill

[The foregoing sketch is introduced in Pickering's third volume, and also in Cunningham's Edition (one volume octavo). The author's manuscript of it is now in possession of Lord Dalhousie, and is identical with the version given above with the exception of one word in the closing line, which it is judged better not to restore.

These eight lines form the central portion of a completed production of Burns, entitled an "Ode to Spring," which appears in a letter addressed to George Thomson, dated early in January 1795. It appears in the same letter in which he transcribed his worldfamous "A man's a man for a' that." He begins by lamenting

that though a few of his songs may please, yet originality is such a coy feature in composition, that in a multiplicity of efforts in the same style, that characteristic must entirely disappear. "We poetic folks," he writes, "have, for instance, been describing the Spring for these three thousand years; and as the Spring continues the same, there must soon be a sameness in the imagery, &c., of these said rhyming folks. To wander a little from my first design, which was to give you a new song, just hot from the mint, give me leave to squeeze in a clever anecdote of my Spring originality :—

"Some years ago when I was young, and by no means the saint I am now, I was looking over, in company with a belle-lettre friend, a Magazine 'Ode to Spring,' when my friend fell foul of the recurrence of the same thoughts, and offered me a bet that it was impossible to produce an Ode to Spring on an original plan. I accepted it, and pledged myself to bring in the verdant fields, the budding flowers, the crystal streams, the melody of the groves, and a love-story into the bargain; and yet be original. Here follows the piece-and wrote to music too!"

ODE TO SPRING.

Tune-'The Tither Morn.'

46 When maukin bucks at early

(Mr. Douglas, to whom we are indebted for the main portion of the foregoing note, judged it better to withhold the ode, and, in doing so, we think he acted judiciously, and, therefore, follow his example.

"The tither morn when I forlorn," to the tune of which the ode was set, is given in Johnson's fourth volume, and has hitherto been generally regarded as a production of Burns, appearing as such in several standard editions of his works. It was really written, Mr. Douglas tells us, before Burns was born, being given, with the music, in an old English collection under the title of "The Surprise, a favorite Scots song," verbatim as it appears in the Museum, to which Burns seems to have contributed it without saying where he got it. The merit of the piece, and the fact that he did not expressly disclaim it, no doubt led to the belief that he was the author; but the way in which it is referred to in his letter to Johnson of January 1795, sufficiently indicates that an old song bearing this title was known to him at least. -J. H.)

JOHNIE LAD, COCK UP YOUR BEAVER.

(JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1792.)

WHEN first my brave Johnie lad came to the town,
He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown;
But now he has gotten a hat and a feather,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver !

full smart

give

Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu' sprush,
We'll over the border, and gie them a brush;
There's somebody there we'll teach better behaviour,
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver !

[The second stanza only of this little fragment can be considered as the work of Burns. The original was a London production framed in ridicule of the Scotch settlers who made their way into England after James VI. of Scotland succeeded to the throne of Queen Elizabeth. The tune it is set to in the Museum, is taken from Playford's "Dancing Master" 1657, and a rude fragment of the words is preserved in Herd's Collection which Burns dressed up for Johnson.]

MY EPPIE MACNAB.

(JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1792.)

O SAW ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?

She's down in the yard, she's kissin the laird,
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab. will not

own

O come thy ways to me, my Eppie Macnab
O come thy ways to me, my Eppie Macnab ;
Whate'er thou hast dune, be it late, be it sune,
Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.

What says she, my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?

She let's thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.

O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie Macnab!
O had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie Macnab!

As light as the air, and as fause as thou's fair, false Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab.

[This was composed as a substitute for old words which, the poet tells us, "had more wit than decency." The melody is preserved in Book VI. of Oswald's "Pocket Companion," and is very plaintive and expressive in character. Burns afterwards reconstructed, without improving, this song for Thomson's collection, suited to the air "When she cam ben she bobbit."]

ALTHO' HE HAS LEFT ME.

(JOHNSON'S MUSEUM, 1792.)

ALTHO' he has left me for greed o' the siller, cash
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;

I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow,
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.

load

[These four lines by Burns were added in the process of retouching an old song for Johnson which first appeared in Herd's Collection, entitled, "I'll never lay a' my love upon ane," in which occurs the following pretty verse :—

"I couldna get sleepin' yestreen for weepin,
The tears trickled down like spates o' rain;
Had I no got grutten,* my heart wad hae broken;
It's sair to feel fond whare ane's no lo'ed again.
But, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him!
It's never be he that shall gar me complain :
I'll cheer up my heart that I'se yet get another,
That's worth a' the luve I can lay upon ane."]

Had I not been able to weep.-J. H.

floods

go make I shall

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