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My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young;
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, 0:
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O:
The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew,
Nae
purer is than Nannie, O.

A country lad is my degree,
An' few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few they be?
I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O.

My riches a's my penny-fee,

An' I maun guide it cannie, O;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.

Our auld guidman delights to view
His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O;
But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh,
An' has nae care but Nannie, O.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by,
I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, 0:
Nae ither care in life have I,

But live, an' love my Nannie, O.

But sometimes the meeting was more re strained, and consisted only of a conversation, like that between Romeo and Juliet, from the elevation of a balcony. Whether the Capulets and Montagues winked at this arrangement, or

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whether it occurred without their knowledge, the effect was the same. An acquaintance was commenced, which in due time ended in matrimony; and if unfortunately broken off by the fickleness of the lady, it furnished, at least, excellent ground for the lover's lamentation. One of Burns' earliest songs was addressed to a maid who seems to have promised an interview at the window; and we are to gather from the tenderness and pathos of the words, that she sometimes did not keep true to her engagement.

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see
That make the miser's treasure poor:
How blithely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun;
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard or saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
"Ye are na Mary Morison."

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,

Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?

If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown;
A thought ungentle canna be

The thought o' Mary Morison.

There are many other ballads, both grave and gay, which it would be a pleasure to quote, and many also of his longer and more ambitious efforts, which have taken their place in our language as poems properly so called. The best known of these is the "Cotter's Saturday Night." With the exception of very few stanzas, and an occasional expression, this poem is in English. It has therefore stood the test of comparison with the works of acknowledged English poets, and has not suffered side by side. with either Crabbe or Wordsworth.

"The short and simple annals of the poor" were never so tenderly delivered; and if in such escapades as "Holy Willie's Prayer," and the "Kirk in Danger," Burns had lashed the vices of hypocrisy and pretension, far deeper was his feeling—as shown in this patriarchal picture—of the beauty of true religion and sincere domestic piety. It ought to be accepted as an apology and atonement for the over-vehemence of his attacks on the false and cruel. And it was so accepted in many a pious household in his native land. Many a strict disciplinarian is softened as he thinks of this poem; and when the wilder

portion of the poet's works is mentioned, says"Ah! but he could na have been altogether bad; he must have had fine feelings in him, and a reverent regard for goodness, the man that wrote the 'Cotter's Saturday Night."

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He must have had more. He must have had a Wilkie-like power of producing a family scene, and endowing it with life and sentiment. It is a group forming a delightful companion to the fireside picture by Goldsmith of the Vicar of Wakefield.

My lov'd, my honour'd, much respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays;

With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end:

My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise: To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,

The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene; The native feelings strong, the guileless ways; What Aikin in a cottage would have been;

Ah! tho' his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween!

November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;

The short'ning winter-day is near a close ;
The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh:
The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose:
The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,

This night his weekly moil is at an end,
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,
And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend.

At length his lonely cot appears in view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;

Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher thro'
To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee.
His wee bit ingle, blinkin' bonnily,

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie Wifie's smile,
The lisping infant prattling on his knee,

Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile,
An' makes him quite forget his labour and his toil.

Belyve, the elder bairns cam drapping in,
At service out, amang the farmers roun':
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin
A cannie errand to a neebor town:

Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,

In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, Comes hame, perhaps to shew a braw new gown, Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee,

To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.

With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet,
An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers:
The social hours, swift-wing'd unnotic'd fleet;
Each tells the unco's that he sees or hears;
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
Anticipation forward points the view.
The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers,
Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ;-
The Father mixes a' wi' admonition due.

Their master's an' their mistress's command,
The younkers a' are warned to obey;
And mind their labours wi' an eydent hand,
An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play :
And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway!

And mind your duty, duly, morn and night!
Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray,

Implore His counsel and assisting might:

They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright!"

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