The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day, But the songster's nest within the bush I winna take away; And a❜ to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near, And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear; The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' love, remove; And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. The air of this song was taken down from the voice of Mrs. Burns, who sang and danced in her earlier days with great beauty and grace. The old words which belonged to the tune have no great merit; they commence thus There was a pretty May, and a-milking she went, With her red rosie cheeks and her coal-black hair. Burns has pulled all the fairest flowers of garden and field, and showered them on his mistress. The a favourite. song is THE BRAES O' GLENIFFER. Keen blaws the wind o'er the braes o' Gleniffer, Then ilk thing around us was blithesome and cheerie, flee; And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnie ; 'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis winter wi' me. Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain, And shakes the dark firs on the steep rocky brae, While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me. It's no its loud roar, on the wintry wind swellin', The dark days o' winter were simmer to me. The second verse of the " Braes o' Gleniffer" is exceedingly beautiful and natural. The season of flowers was departed, the song of the mavis was mute, and nothing was seen but a waste of snow and the birds, as they chirped and flitted from bough to bough, shaking the snow-drift from their wings. The chief excellence, and the greatest fault, of Tannahill are exemplified in this song. His inanimate nature is far too luxuriant for his animated nature-he smothers his heroes and heroines in the very garments with which more judicious poets seek only to dress them. MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. O meikle thinks my love o' my beauty, my kin; But little thinks my love I ken brawlie My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. It's a' for the honey he'll cherish the bee: My laddie's sae meikle in love wi' the siller, VOL. IV. K Your proffer o' love's an airle-penny, Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try. And ye'll crack your credit wi' mair nor me. Burns has painted the heroine of this clever song as a shrewd and considerate damsel. Her acquaintance with the saving-knowledge of proverbs, and her natural acuteness, enable her to penetrate into the views of her lover: she is not so unwilling to become his wife, as she is exasperated at the attempt to overreach a lady of her sagacity. His craft is confronted by her cunning;-what a treat their conversation must have been! But I am forgetting that they are only imaginary personages,—in such natural and lively colours has the poet painted them. In the last verse the poet seems to have remembered some old lines : Where will our gudeman lie Till he shoot o'er the simmer? Up aboon the hen bawks Among the rotten timmer. THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. I see a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi' the fairest place : She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, The kind love that's in her ee. A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, It may escape the courtly sparks, Burns imagined that he had his propitious season for |