Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o' Janwar' win
Blew hansel in on Robin.

The gossip keekit' in his loof,'

Quo' scho, "Wha lives will see the proof,
This waly boy will be nae coof,*
I think we'll ca' him Robin.

"He'll hae misfortunes great and sma',
But ay a heart aboon them a';
He'll be a credit till' us a',

We'll a' be proud o' Robin.

"But sure as three times three mak nine,
I see by ilkaR score and line,

This chap will dearly like our kin","

So leeze me on thee, Robin.

"Guid faith," quo' scho, "I doubt you, Sir,
Ye gar the lasses ****

But twenty fauts ye may hae waur-
So blessin's on thee, Robin!"

Robin was a rovin' boy, &c.

WHEN FIRST I CAME TO STEWART KYLE.

A FRAGMENT.

TUNE-I had a horse and I had nae mair.

WHEN first I came to Stewart Kyle,
My mind it was na steady,
Where'er I gaed," where'er I rade,

A mistress still I had ay:

But when I came roun' by Mauchline town,
Not dreadin' ony body,

My heart was caught before I thought,
And by a Mauchline lady."

*

*

*

*

*

*

1 Peeped.- Palm of the hand.-3 Jolly.-4 Blockhead.-5 To.-6 Every. -7 Kind, sex.-8 A phrase of congratulatory endearment.- Worse.0 Went.-11 Jean Armour, afterwards Mrs. Burns.

MONTGOMERIE'S PEGGY.

A FRAGMENT.

TUNE-Galla Water.

ALTHO' my bed were in yon muir,
Amang the heather, in my pladdie,
Yet happy, happy would I be

Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy.-
When o'er the hill beat surly storms,
And winter nights were dark and rainy;
I'd seek some dell, and in my arms
I'd shelter dear Montgomerie's Peggy.—

Were I a baron proud and high,

And horse and servants waiting ready,
Then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me,

The sharin' 't with Montgomerie's Peggy

*

*

**

*

OH, RAGING FORTUNE'S WITHERING BLAST

A FRAGMENT.

Оn, raging fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
Oh, raging fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
My stem was fair, my bud was green,
My blossom sweet did blow, O;
The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,
And made my branches grow, O.
But luckless fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O;

But luckless fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O.
43

HERE'S A HEALTH TO TO THEM THAT'S AWA.

The first three verses of this excellent patriotic song were first published in the Edinburgh Magazine for 1818, from a manuscript in the handwriting of Burns. The remaining two verses appeared some time after in the same periodical, with a note by the editor, proving their authenticity. The first complete copy of the song was printed in a little volume entitled, "The Lyric Muse of Robert Burns," published in 1819, by the late John Smith, bookseller, Montrose.

HERE's a health to them that's awa,
And here's to them that's awa;

And wha winna1 wish guid luck to our cause,
May never guid luck be their fa'!2
It's guid to be merry and wise,

It's guid to be honest and true,
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.

Here's a health to them that's awa,
And here's to them that's awa;
Here's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan,
Altho' that his band be sma'.

May liberty meet wi' success!

May prudence protect her frae evil!

May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist,

And wander their way to the devil!

Here's a health to them that's awa,

And here's to them that's awa;

Here's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie,
That lives at the lug o' the law!

Here's freedom to him that wad read,

Here's freedom to him that wad write!

There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should be heard,

But they wham the truth wad indite.

Here's a health to them that's awa;
And here's to them that's awa;

Here's Maitland and Wycombe, and wha does na

like 'em

We'll build in a hole o' the wa'.

1 Will not.-2 Fate, lot.-3 Be lost. The ear; i. e. close to.

Here's timmer' that's red at the heart,
Here's fruit that's sound at the core!

May he that would turn the buff and blue coat,
Be turn'd to the back o' the door.

Here's a health to them that's awa,
And here's to them that's awa;

Here's Chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd,
Though bred amang mountains o' snaw!
Here's friends on baith sides o' the Forth,
And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed,
And wha would betray old Albion's rights,
May they never eat of her bread.

THE PLOUGHMAN.

This and the two following Fragments are excellent; the second, "The Winter It is past," &c., is particularly so. It is conceived in the spirit, and expressed in the manner, of the old ballad.

As I was wandering ae morning in spring,

I heard a young Ploughman sae sweetly to sing,
And as he was singing thir' words he did say-
"There's nae life like the Ploughman in the month o'
sweet May.-

"The lav'rock in the morning she 'll rise frae her nest,
And mount to the air wi' the dew on her breast,
And wi' the merry Ploughman she 'll whistle and sing,
And at night she 'll return to her nest back again."

THE WINTER IT IS PAST, ETC.

A FRAGMENT.

THE winter it is past, and the summer comes at last,
And the small birds sing on every tree;

Now every thing is glad, while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.

1 Timber, wood.-2 These.

The rose upon the brier by the waters running clear, May have charms for the linnet or the bee;

Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest, But my true love is parted from me.

DAMON AND SYLVIA.

A FRAGMENT.

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 nae crime, Sir;
The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's heart beat time, Sir.

This happy little song was written for the Museum. It is an early

production.

TUNE-Ye're welcome, Charlie Stewart

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.

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, &c.