Bonnie Peggy Alison. Tune-Braes o' Balquhidder. CHORUS. I'LL kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonnie Peggy Alison ! I. Ilk care and fear, when thou art near, II. When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, 111. And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, My bonnie Peggy Alison! The ["Bonnie Peggy Alison was Montgomery's Peggy, the subject of other songs, and the object of eight months' fruitless wooing. Poet, it is said, exhausted all his knowledge in the art of courting to win the affections of this coy dame; he was to be seen sauntering about, watching her windows during the evening, musing in her favourite walks during the day, and, when in some propitious moment she conIsented to meet him after night-fall, he might be observed lingering nigh the "trysting tree" an hour before the appointed time. He sought the acquaintance of all whom he imagined could influence her, and urged and wooed with all his impassioned eloquence. Peggie was pleased with all this - she loved praise, and loved the Poet's company. The cause of her coldness has already been related. It was an early communication, though unacknowledged, to the Museum. Clark the composer was fond of it; Cromek, who had all Johnson's correspondence through his hands, saw it in the hand-writing of Burns, and inserted it in the Reliques." - CUNNINGHAM.] Green grow the Rashes, ! A FRAGMENT. Tune-Green grow the Rushes. CHORUS. GREEN grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! [The "Green grow the rashes" of our ances tors had both spirit and freedom :-- "Green grow the Rashes, O, "We're a' dry wi' drinking o't, The down bed, the feather bed, ["Burns calls this inimitable song a fragment, and says it speaks the genuine language of his heart. The incense in the concluding verse is the richest any poet ever offered at the shrine of beauty. The following passage of "Cupid's Whirlygig," published in 1607, contains the express sentiments of the poet of Scotland : "How have I wronged thee? Oh! who would abuse your sex who truly knows ye? O women, were we not born of you? Should we not, then, honour you? Nursed by you, and not regard you? Made for you, and not seek you? And since we were made before you, should we not love and admire you as the last, and, therefore, perfect work of nature? Man was made when nature was but an apprentice; but woman, when she was a skilful mistress of her art; therefore, cursed is he that doth not admire those paragons, those models of heaven, angels on earth, goddesses in shape !"] My Jean! Tune-The Northern Lass. THO' cruel fate should bid us part, Tho' mountains rise, and deserts howl, And oceans roar between; [The heroine of this sweet snatch was "Bonnie Jean." It was composed when the Poet contemplated the West India voyage, and an eternal separation from the land and all that was dear to him. It is written to the air of an English song of the same name: some of the verses of which are pleasing : "Come, take your glass, the Northern Lass I drank her health, and really was Her shape so neat, her voice so sweet, Her air and mien so free; The syren charm'd me from my meat, - "If from the North such beauty came, Within my breast that glowing flame, No tongue can e'er reveal? Though cold and raw the north winds blow, Robin. Tune-Daintie Davie. I. THERE was a lad was born in Kyle,* Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin'; * A district of Ayr-shire. II. Our monarch's hindmost year but ane III. The gossip keekit in his loof, Quo' she, wha lives will see the proof, IV. He'll hae misfortunes great and sma', But aye a heart aboon them a'; He'll be a credit 'till us a', We'll a' be proud o' Robin. v. But, sure as three times three mak nine, VI. Guid faith, quo' she, I doubt ye gar, Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin'; [This mirthful song was an early composition. All who are acquainted with humble life in the north will see at once the truth and the force of the Poet's picture. A male child has been born -the gossips are gathered about the bed-and a cummer, skilful in palmistry, reads his for tune from his fist. She sees much of the dark, but more of the bright; and, as the gossip-cup has probably run to her head, she dilates with much freedom on his future exploits. Stothard painted a small picture from this clever ditty. The cannie wife stood with little Robin laid backwards in her left arm; with her right hand she had opened his palm, and it was quite evident that she saw something which curious intelligence sparkled the faces of her gossips, and they said, or seemed to say tickled her: a "Blessin's on thee, Robin!" CUNNINGHAM.] Her Flowing Locks. Tune-(Unknown.) HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, The Belles of Mauchline. Tune-Bonnie Dundee. I. [The Poet one day had his foot in the stirrup ready to mount his horse, and return from Ayr to Mauchline, when a young lady of great beauty rode up to the inn, and caused some refreshments to be given to her servants. The Poet composed these beautiful lines at the moment, merely, he said, to keep so much loveliness on his memory, and on the same principle that a painter contents himself with a sketch, when he has not leisure for a finished picture. The fragment was found among his papers, and was first printed by Cromek.] Mauchline Belles. Tune-Mauchline Belles. I. O LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles! Ye're safer at your spinning-wheel; Such witching books are baited hooks For rakish rooks-like Rob Mossgiel. II. Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, They make your youthful fancies reel; They heat your veins, and fire your brains, And then ye're prey for Rob Mossgiel. III. Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, IV. The frank address, the soft caress, Are worse than poison'd darts of steel; The frank address, and politesse, Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. [The advice which the Poet tendered was certainly a very honest one; but, like other unsought-for counsel, it was, perhaps, not much regarded. These verses were written before his marriage.] In the following song "Rob of Mossgiel" tells us who were the belles, concerning whose moral and intellectual culture he was so much interested: ["In these flattering stanzas Burns bade farewell to one whom he had wooed for eight months, and solicited much by speech and song. Montgomery's Peggy seems to have been little moved by the sweet things of verse and prose; she, perhaps, preferred a swain who, like the miller, in another ditty, could bring in money and meal to one who seemed I. No churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving a snareFor a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. II. The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; here, And a bottle like this, are my glory and care. III. Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse; There centum per centum, the cit with his purse: But see you the Crown, how it waves in the air! There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care. IV. The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die; v. I once was persuaded a venture to make; stairs, With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. VI. "Life's cares they are comforts," a maxim laid down [black gown: By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the And faith, I agree with th' old prig to a hair; For a big-belly'd bottle's a heav'n of a care. VII. A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE. Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow, And honours masonic prepare for to throw; May ev'ry true brother of the compass and [care! Have a big-belly'd bottle when harass'd with square [Masonic lyrics are generally about the pleasures of the table, or other friendly socialities, and deal in dark allusions to the * Young's Night Thoughts. 1 "Mason's mystic word and grup." "Down flow'd her robe, a tartan sheen, "Till half a leg was scrimply seen; Some of them perceive freemasonry in all things; and one, in particular, hesitates not to claim Eve as a comrade of the mystic order, My friend John Galt informed me that this lady for "A fig-leaf apron she put on, To show her masonrie." Tarbolton Lodge, of which the Poet was a member, had considerable fame in the west for its socialities, and also for its deep knowledge in the mysteries of masonry. The reputation of the Lodge of Kilmarnock is of old standing; indeed, the west of Scotland has long been famous for its associations, social, political, and religious."]-CUNNINGHAM. Eliza. Tune-Gilderoy. I. FROM thee, Eliza, I must go, But boundless oceans, roaring wide, II. Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, ["To the heroine of this song the Poet's thoughts turned when, rejected of Jean Armour, he wrote his pathetic "Lament." She is the Miss Betty of one of his epigrams, where he praises her taste in dress; and she figures in the first edition of the "Vision." He is speaking of Coila : * [Eliza long survived the Poet, and, if we may judge from the following obituary notice of her, she must have been a person somewhat above the common standard: was his relative: he said her name was Elizabeth Barbour; she was handsome rather than beautiful, very lively and of ready wit. The Poet seems to have realized in his loves the fortune of the "wight of Homer's craft," in the "Jolly Beggars." When change of mind, marriage, or other casualties, carried away one of his heroines, he could sing, with justice, "I've lost but ane, I've twa behin." Or, if not content with what remained, his youth and eloquence soon supplied the vacancy with a lass from Lugar, or from Cessnock-bank. When he made his appearance among the polished dames of Edinburgh, he found that the language which caused the maids to listen on the Ayr and Doon wrought the same enchantment elsewhere." - CUNNINGHAM.] "At Alva, on the 28th ult. [1827], in the 74th year of her age, Mrs. Elizabeth Black, relict of the late Mr. James Stewart, Vintner, there. Though early deprived of her part ner, Mrs. Stewart, in her guarded walk and conversation, during the many years she spent in Alva, threw such a moral halo around her character as secured for her the unceasing esteem and good wishes of her fellow-villagers. was Burns's "ELIZA." She was born and brought up in Ayr-shire, and in the bloom of youth was possessed of no ordinary share of personal charms. She carly became acquainted with Burns, and made no small impression on his heart. She possessed several love-epistles he had addressed to her. It was when Scotia's bard intended emigrating from his own to a foreign shore, that he wrote the stanzas beginning "From thee, Eliza, I must go," * * She the subject being, of course, Elizabeth Black."] |